ALUMNI ONLY · BY INVITATION

The Baja Wisdom Council

Conversations I Dare to Have

Baja Sage, Baja California Sur, Mexico · November 2–7, 2026

Reserve my spot!

Spaces are moving — reserve yours now

You know that feeling.

You're at a café with someone you barely know. You order a second coffee without noticing. You look up and three hours have passed, and something — you can't quite name it yet — has shifted. You feel it that night before you fall asleep. A new awareness.

A different angle on something you'd been carrying. Nothing was solved. Nothing was prescribed. But something moved.

That is what happens when women stop performing their answers and start sharing their actual lives.

I'm building five days of that in Baja — for a small circle of women I already know are willing to go there. Women who show up with their real question, not the polished one. Women who have already chosen, at least once, to be changed.

This is your invitation.

What I dare to wish, if anything were possible

This year's council gathers around one question I keep returning to — the one that lives underneath all the others:

What would I dare to wish for myself, if anything were possible?

Not what is realistic. Not what is responsible. Not what makes sense given everything. What would you wish — if you actually let yourself?

I'm still answering this question myself. I suspect I will be for a while. Which is exactly why I want to sit in it with you.

We will not answer this question. We will live inside it for five days, turn it over, laugh at it, cry into it, and let it do what only a great question can do: rearrange something quietly, permanently, at the level below thought.

A word about wise women

Wisdom is not a destination. It is a living practice — the courage to stay in the question. To hold what is not yet resolved and trust that the not-knowing is not failure — it's the actual territory. It's where the life is.

The answers are temporary. The questions are where the life is.

A Wise Woman doesn't stand apart from her journey and report on it from a safe distance. She is in it. She shares the pearl she has lived — not the one she wishes she were holding. She is transparent about the ache, the freeze, the not-yet-knowing — and in doing so, she gives others permission to be unfinished too.

She includes herself in her own constellation. She understands that the sacrifice of self is not a virtue. She leads from inside her own experience. And she knows — in her body, not just her mind — that a story told honestly in a circle of trusted women is one of the oldest medicines there is.

This is not something you have to earn. You don't have to deserve time for yourself.

Showing up as you actually are — that is the most regenerative thing you can do.

The messy, magnificent middle

Our grandmothers at sixty were considered old. We are not.

The years between 55 and 85 have been so transformed — in terms of health, capacity, and hunger for life — that they barely resemble the same passage our grandmothers walked. There are no maps for this territory because no generation has lived it quite like this.

Which means the women navigating it together, honestly, in circle — are making the map.

This is not a crisis. This is the opportunity of a whole new becoming. The years between who you were and who you're growing into are not a problem to be solved. They are the most interesting passage of your life. And the conversations that belong to this passage deserve more than a rushed glass of wine with a friend who loves you too much to say the hard thing.

What do I actually want, now that I'm allowed to want it?

What do I do with desire at this age?

Am I too old for this — or just old enough?

What am I afraid my friends would think if they really knew?

What is the life I haven't let myself imagine yet?

What have I never said out loud — because I didn't know if I was allowed to want it?

Your friends love you as you are. Your Wise Woman Council is here for who you can't yet imagine yourself to be.

What happens in the circle

Okay — can I just tell you what this actually is? Because every time I try to describe it properly, I end up sounding like a brochure, and that is exactly what it isn’t.

It's what happens when a group of women stops trying to have the right answer and starts trusting the question. When someone says the thing she's been carrying alone for two years, and the woman across the circle says — quietly, without drama — me too. When the laughter comes out of nowhere because it turns out the thing you were most ashamed of is also the funniest thing anyone has ever heard. When you realize that your story — the specific, particular, unrepeatable story of your life — is somehow a mirror for everyone in the room.

That's the council. That's what it does.

There's no curriculum. No one is teaching. I'm not at the front of the room with answers — I'm in the circle with you, in process, same as everyone else. What I do is hold the container, tend the fire, ask the question that opens the door. What you do is walk through it.

We will not stay in the shallows. I won't let us.

The council meets each afternoon at 2pm — formally. Though honestly, once you've been in it for a day, you'll notice you're in council all the time. At the breakfast table. On the beach. In the silence between sentences.

The formal session begins with your question — the one you arrived with, the one that's been living in you. Then I drop in the day's provocation: a nudge, a reframe, a small piece of friction — something to snag on, think about, carry.

We sit under the pergola in the warm ocean breeze, take a breath, and begin.

Some of it is the full circle. Some of it is one-on-one. Some of it is silence that turns out to be the most useful thing.

I don't bring a script — I follow what emerges, go where the energy goes, hold the container while you do the real work.

We build it together, every time, and it is never the same twice.

Reserve my space

Ready? The space is here.

*"I came in with a question I'd been avoiding for three years. I left with something better than an answer — I left knowing I was allowed to keep asking it, and that I wasn't alone in the asking."*
— [Kim B., Santa Fe] · Re-Imagined Self retreat

A day in the good life

Every day is different. This is one version of it.

**7:00 AM** You wake to birds. Real ones, loud ones, the kind that make you smile before you're fully conscious. Warm water. No rush. The farm is already awake.

**8:00 AM** Slow breakfast at the community table — something extraordinary has been made by someone who loves to cook for small groups. The coffee is excellent. Conversation starts before you mean it to.

**9:00 AM** Morning ceremony and the day's seed question — one provocation to carry with you, turn over, let work on you quietly from the inside.

**10:00 AM** The good life unfolds. Maybe a sound healer arrives. Maybe you walk the beach barefoot and feel — unexpectedly — the bubbling-up of a childhood joy you'd forgotten was still in there. Maybe you do nothing at all and discover that nothing at all is exactly enough. It’s all your choice.

**1:00 PM** Optional lunch. Poolside, probably. Someone makes you laugh so hard you nearly fall in.

**2:00 PM** The Wise Woman Council — the gravitational centre of the week. Every activity around it is optional. The council never is. This is what you came for.

**5:00 PM** An afternoon offering from the remarkable humans who live in this community — a cooking class, a tarot reading, a poet, a philosopher, reiki, whale watching on the beach. Follow what your body says yes to. And at some point this week — the best massage of your life. I am not exaggerating. I’m full of recomendations.

**5:30 PM** Sunset at the exact point where the sun dips into the sea. You will be in circle. In ceremony. Stretching through time into a different sense of who you came here to discover.

**7:00 PM** Dinner, candles, easy conversation. The day has already done its work. Someone says something that makes the whole table go quiet for a moment. Then someone laughs. Then everyone does.

**LATER** The night is warm. The stars are extraordinary. The conversation continues on someone's porch — or doesn't, because you've finally, blissfully, chosen sleep.

Where else will you have these conversations?

Where else will you make these friends?

Where else will you laugh like this?

This is not self-improvement. This is self-recognition.

The place I'm sharing with you

I want to tell you something about Baja Sage before I describe it.

This is the place that held me gently through the most transformational moments of my own life — when I pushed against what the world wanted from me and finally exhaled into the bravery of just being me. I winter here, inside a regenerative, heart-centred community inspired by the Modern Elder Academy, among artists, healers, chefs, and seekers who came looking for something they couldn't name and found it anyway.

When I invite you here, I am not offering a venue. I am opening a door into my actual life.

You will stay in individual rooms inside two or three-bedroom homes that open onto a shared pool, a library, a community kitchen, and a working farm. This is not a resort.

This is a neighbourhood — one where the conversations start at the breakfast table and don't really end.

We are on the Tropic of Cancer, a ley line that has drawn artists and thinkers for decades. (The Eagles knew. The original Hotel California is here.) The roads are still sand. There are no stoplights. The tropical birds are the best alarm clock you've ever had. And the light — the light does something to you that is genuinely difficult to explain and impossible to forget.

This is where time holds differently. Where you put your ordinary life on hold long enough to hear what's underneath it.

Is this for you?

This isn't for everyone — and that's exactly the point.

When it's full, it's full.

Dates November 2–7, 2026 (5 nights)

Location Baja Sage, Baja California Sur, Mexico

Investment USD $3,330 per person, private room

Group size Maximum 25 women — intimate by design

Includes All accommodation, 2 meals a day, and Advivum Journeys led experiences. Experiences by external providers will be at your choice and your cost.

Excludes Flights and transport to venue, special activities, lunch.

Spaces are limited — not only by the group size, but by the residential houses we reserve from within Baja Sage.

When it's full, it's full.

QUESTIONS

Los Cabos International (SJD) — approximately 45 minutes from Baja Sage. Transfer details go out with every confirmation.
Not at all. Beach walks are gentle, the pool is there to lounge in as much as swim in, and every activity is optional. Come as you are.
Yes. A private room in a two or three-bedroom home, all opening onto the shared pool, library, community kitchen, and farm. Private space when you need it. Community when you want it.
Any Advivum Journeys retreat or coaching with me qualifies. Not sure? Write to me — I'll tell you honestly.
Life happens. Write to me directly and we'll work it out. Full terms in your booking confirmation.