Four days on a private ranch.
Eight women, and nothing you have to be.
The work's going well. People count on you. From the outside it all looks right.
Then you wake up already behind, before your feet hit the floor.
You're not unhappy. You're tired in a way sleep doesn't touch.
I know that tired. I ran on it for years and called it discipline.
Here's what I watch happen out here. A woman gets to the ranch still talking in her work voice. By the second morning she's quiet. By the third she says something out loud she has never said to anybody.
Not because I fixed her. Because for three days nothing was asking anything of her, and she got quiet enough to hear herself.
Some of that happens with the horses. Some of it happens on a trail, or at the dinner table, or sitting by the fire not talking.
That's most of it, honestly.
You don't have to arrive with anything figured out. Nobody out here does.
When was the last time you had four days where nobody needed anything from you?
It gets quiet out here.
Quiet enough to hear yourself again.
You get here Thursday by two and head home Sunday around the same time. The days have a shape to them, but nothing is packed. The pace out here is slower than the one you came from, and it takes about a day to stop fighting it.
No signal out here.
Just the mountains, the fire, and the women beside you.
Coffee on the porch. No alarm. Nowhere you have to be. Some women write, some walk, some just sit there. You forget mornings can feel like this.
One of the ways we get underneath the noise. A horse responds to what's actually going on in you, not the version you practiced in the car on the way here. No experience needed. I'm right there with you.
Hours out in real backcountry. No signal, nothing to manage but the trail in front of you. Southern Oregon in October is worth the trip on its own.
Somebody else cooks every meal. Dinner runs long and so do the conversations. A lot of what shifts out here happens right there, at the table or by the fire, in your own words.
Eight years of small groups, long conversations, and getting out of the way. I've watched a lot of women show up worn down and leave sounding like themselves again.
I live on a ranch in Eagle Point with four kids and a barn full of horses.
I built my life on grit. It worked. It also came close to costing me the thing I built it for.
What changed it wasn't a plan. It was slowing down enough to hear myself, and then actually trusting what I heard. The horses helped with that. So did being outside, and a few people who told me the truth.
I'm not the one with the answers here. My job is to set up four days where you can hear your own.
I'm not writing to you from the other side of this. I still catch myself doing the old thing. I just notice sooner now, and I know what pulls me back.
Come as you are. Tired counts.
Sausha Davis
I went in considering everyone an internet friend. I left with real friendships. I talk to the women from my room every single day now. If you're on the fence, just go.
Everything but your flight. You show up.
All Inclusive · Eight Spots
You send an inquiry.
We get on a call and talk. You ask me anything. We both get a feel for whether it's right.
If it's a yes on both sides, you register and your spot is held.
It's eight women, so the room matters. That call is as much for you as it is for me. If it isn't right for you right now, either one of us can say so, and you'll owe nothing.
Send Inquiry$2,700 paid in full. That covers your room for three nights, every meal, all the programming, the horses, the trail ride, the photography, the welcome box, and the group call before October. Your flight is the only thing on you. Payment plans are available, and a $500 non-refundable deposit holds your spot.
A private ranch in Southern Oregon. The exact location goes to confirmed attendees only. Closest airport is Rogue Valley International–Medford, code MFR. Plan to be at the ranch by 2:00 PM Thursday, October 22, and to leave around 2:00 PM Sunday, October 25. Once you're in you'll get travel details and ground transport options.
No. Horses are one of the ways we work, not the whole thing. Plenty of what happens out here happens on a walk, at the table, or sitting around doing nothing. When we are with the horses you don't need any experience, most of it happens on the ground, and I match every woman to the right horse. We meet you where you are.
Closed-toe boots or sturdy shoes for the time outside. Layers, because Southern Oregon in October runs 40s at sunrise and 70s by midday. A jacket. Clothes you can move in. You'll get a full packing list once you're in. On food, the chef handles gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan, and most major allergies. You'll fill out a dietary form so the kitchen has time. Anything severe, tell me on the call.
You owe nothing until we've talked and we both say yes. After that, the $500 deposit is non-refundable, because we hold your place with the ranch and the photographer the moment you're in. If something extreme happens, a medical or family emergency, we'll move your seat to the next one.
Four days where nobody needs anything from you.
Seven other women doing the same.
There is room for you.
October 22–25, 2026 · Southern Oregon · Eight Spots · $2,700 All Inclusive
You don't need fixing. You need room.
A few times a week I'll send you what's going on out here.
The horses, the ranch, whatever I'm chewing on that morning.
No spam. Life’s overwhelming enough already.