Episode 55 | The Edge of the Forest 

What happens when we step beyond what feels safe?

There are moments in life when nothing is actually wrong… and yet every part of us wants to retreat.

A doorway we almost don't walk through.
A conversation we almost don't have.
A road we almost don't take.

In this episode, Shannon and Megan explore the invisible boundaries that shape our lives and the quiet ways our worlds can shrink when comfort becomes our default setting.

Drawing on experiences from the recent If These Trees Could Heal retreat, where women stepped into an unknown space, a new experience, a group of strangers, cold water, breathwork, vulnerability and the unknown, alongside Shannon's weekend navigating unfamiliar places in the city alone, this conversation explores what happens when we choose curiosity over certainty.

Together they unpack:

• why discomfort and danger are not always the same thing

• how anxiety and avoidance can quietly make our worlds smaller

• the science of neuroplasticity and the brain's ability to adapt

• what cold water immersion can teach us about resilience

• why confidence is often built after we take the step, not before

Part reflection, part conversation, and part gentle challenge, this episode asks an important question:

What might become possible if we took one small step beyond the familiar?

To the women who joined us at If These Trees Could Heal,

Thank you.

Not just for showing up, but for all the ways you chose to show up.

Over the course of the weekend, I watched women step into cold water while every instinct told them to stay on the shore.

I watched women arrive alone and walk into a circle of strangers with open hearts.

I watched women trust a process they didn't fully understand, surrender to breathwork, share their stories, sit with uncomfortable emotions, and allow themselves to be seen.

I watched women choose curiosity over certainty.

I watched women sit quietly with a journal and venture into parts of themselves that are so often drowned out by the noise of everyday life. To ask difficult questions. To listen for honest answers. To meet themselves with compassion, curiosity, and courage.

Because sometimes the greatest adventure isn't stepping into cold water or travelling somewhere unfamiliar.

Sometimes it's being willing to sit still long enough to hear your own voice.

To explore the depths of who you are beneath the roles you carry, the responsibilities you hold, and the expectations you place upon yourself.

And perhaps most importantly, I watched women discover that they were capable of more than they believed.

What struck me most wasn't the cold water, the workshops, the breathwork, or even the conversations.

It was witnessing the moment when someone met the edge of their comfort zone and decided not to turn away.

Again and again, throughout the weekend, I saw women gather evidence that they could trust themselves.

That they could move through discomfort.

That they could be vulnerable.

That they could take up space.

That they could do hard things.

As I reflected on the weekend and the conversations that followed, I realised that every one of us was standing at a different edge. The edge looked different for each woman, but the courage required to take the next step was remarkably similar.

You reminded me that growth is rarely loud.

Most of the time it looks like a quiet decision.

A deep breath.

A trembling yes.

A page filled with honest words.

A willingness to stay present when every part of you wants to retreat.

You also reminded me that courage is contagious.

Every woman who stepped forward gave another woman permission to do the same.

Every act of vulnerability made the space safer.

Every story shared became an invitation for someone else to lower their armour.

I learnt far more from all of you than I could ever hope to teach.

You reminded me that we are not meant to navigate life alone.

That healing often happens in community.

That there is extraordinary strength in softness.

And that sometimes the most important journeys we take are not across landscapes, but into parts of ourselves we have not yet explored.

Thank you for trusting us.

Thank you for trusting yourselves.

And thank you for showing me, once again, that when women gather with open hearts, remarkable things happen.

With love and gratitude,

Shannon