This is not about me.

This is an ongoing journey. This is a work in progress. This is evolving. So am I.


Everyone, it seems, is an expert today.

I’m not buying that, and I’m not claiming that.

I am not looking to promote myself or spread my word and impose my personal beliefs. I’m not interested in converting or convincing. This isn’t about me telling you what to do, what’s right, what to think or how to dress. I’m not trying to encourage you to follow my advice, or take anyone’s word with blind faith for that matter.

Rather, I will encourage you to think for yourself. To be open to new wisdom, and to change your mind when need be. To learn to listen from your heart. Feel the truth from deep down inside. And make your own choices accordingly. That is true empowerment. That’s what I work on. That’s what I do. That’s my trip.


This is about you.


And so, about me too.

Because maybe what I’m going through is what you went through, or you’re going to go through. Maybe my words and my stories, my rants and my crazy ideas – maybe some of these things make sense, maybe they feel right, maybe they resonate.

Take what works for you, if it does. Leave the rest behind, and move on in peace.


That said, you’re probably curious who I am.

Everyone has a story. And every story matters. This is mine.

I have not lived a charmed nor a sheltered life.  My story takes me from the rag trade in New York City, the bars of the Greek Islands, a VW van in the art school parking lot where I lived in Santa Fe, and a bunch of places in between and far beyond. I was born in New Jersey, grew up in and around The Big City, and slowly moved away to the wildest places I could find. My younger years found me running far too wild than I care to confess. Stories that don’t need to be shared here and now. I’m not proud of all that, but it was a part of the journey that made me who I am. There were other parts too. Parts I’m more proud of, or at least, more compassionate with. There was that part of being a single mom, and no matter how hard that was, and it was at times to the point of being homeless and on welfare, but still finding such strength and joy and awe and grace and gratitude in caring for and sharing my life with such a beautiful being. There was that part about being far more alone – or rather, lonely – than I would wish on anyone. That part about fierce independence, which I held onto as my impenetrable coat of armor until I finally married at 36. That part about being a rebel both with and without a cause, a free spirit, a pioneer, a wild woman willing to dream and then make my dreams real.   My story includes experiencing the greatest joys in becoming a mother, a wife, as sister, a daughter, a friend. And learning to evolve as each of those relationships has grown in kind. Theses are the grounding stones that create the foundation from which my soul flies.

Professionally, I’m a nature writer, a poet. Not some self-help guru. I’m not a good speaker, nor a public persona, and  I’m quite content to be shy. I live life boldly in the quietest way I can.

Some strange tangent in life took me on an impassioned journey. As with many healers, midwives and ministers, it was because of a calling. Yes, I was actually called. (It’s a long story…) One of those “don’t ask” stories of awakening. Maybe I’ll share that story someday.

And so, I became a trained midwife, a licensed doula, a certified yoga instructor, a mentor and a personal coach. I don’t know if those parts of me will ever amount to more than arrows in my quiver and perhaps a way in which I can do some good in this world. But that matters to me.

And then… Menopause shook things up even more. It was the Sacred Transformation our Blood Rites are meant to be. And though I didn’t say it then, I can say it now: I am grateful. I have grown. I have awakened from this intense inner challenge.

Now in my Matriarch years, having lived and continue to live an untamed and unconventional life, my family (husband, grown son and daughter in law), my animals and the wilds mean the world to me. I live as far away from town, telephones, and traffic as I can. Home now is a remote ranch, snowed in for half the year.

Who am I? Career names? Status symbols? Titles? Ah, let’s not go there. I couldn’t if I wanted to. I strongly believe our titles, formal education, certification and plaques we can hang on the wall do not make us who we are.  

What would I say if you asked me, “So what do you do?”  Uh…. I write in the early morning hours before there is light, I talk to my horses when I’m out there tossing out hay twice a day, I hike with a very vivacious German Shepherd, I practice yoga, I meditate, I pray, I’m passionate about the wilds within and around, I cook dinner every night and sit around and talk deeply with my family, I’m impassioned with the study and practice of herbal wisdom and natural health care and self care, I find peace in silence and solitude and love to watch the birds, the clouds, the seasons, the light coming and going on my wild mountain.

So what am I? Who am I? I am. Me.

What would you say if I asked you?

Please don’t answer with titles, achievements and accomplishments from the past, something you’re working on for the future, or words others have called you.

Who are you, right now?



Thank you for joining me here. For being with me on this Journey. For being. For caring. For trying.

With grace and gratitude,


gin getz