As the October sun set over the high desert landscape of Shash Dine’ Eco Retreat, women from across the Navajo Nation gathered around a crackling fire, almost strangers, but bound by a shared responsibility. Sacred Land, Sacred Work was more than a retreat, it was a homecoming, a reminder of the strength that runs through our veins and the wisdom held in our DNA as Navajo women. From the steady presence of those who came to share their wisdom and prayers to the vision and determination of those inspired to shape the future, every moment of the retreat reminded us why we are here: to support each other, share our journeys, and care for the land that cares for us.

The stories shared and support offered cultivated a collective that can hardly be captured in words. One attendee expressed it best:

“WIR helped me know I’m not alone or the only one experiencing different situations, and that we are all working towards a goal.”

This intentional space allowed for an exchange that was not only supportive but also deeply grounding. Over good food (thanks Bidii Chidii), heartfelt conversations and lots of laughter, we bonded over the challenges women doing land-centered work face and strategized about how to overcome them—together.

To those who joined us, thank you for bringing your energy, knowledge, and warmth. Your stories, leadership and willingness to share are what make this community so powerful. Often, I find myself advocating for the representation and inclusion of our people in agriculture and ranching. For us, ‘ranching’ probably evokes an image of our Navajo grandmothers who spent their lives caring for sheep and the land. It’s a way of being that we trace back not by generations, but through traditions reaching back to our creation stories. This experience, this shared history, is one we hold together and one I am honored to share with you.

We left Shash Dine’ on what was likely one of the last warm days of the year, the desert still holding onto that last, tiny bit of summer heat. Since then, snow has fallen and the cold air carries the anticipation of a long winter ahead. I can feel the land settling into its slower rhythms and animals into their fluffier coats. We’ve returned to our own homes and daily work and I find comfort in knowing that our paths will cross again soon, with new work to tackle and more stories to share. Until then, I hope you hold onto the strength and warmth we felt together, knowing this community is just as steady as the land beneath us.