Cindie White

Author  ·  Elder  ·  Death Midwife

Some women arrive at a certain age and quietly disappear.
 
I went the other direction.
 
After sixty-four years in California — as a nature child, a corporate climber, a CEO’s wife, a mother, a grandmother, a woman who collected bones in secret and built a barn full of animal spirits — I divorced, packed up, and started over in Colorado.
 
I didn’t do it because it was easy. I did it because I had spent a lifetime compelled to follow what is true over what is comfortable. And I wasn’t finished yet.
 
I am Cindie White. I am an author, an elder, and a death midwife. I have been doing deep inner work for over forty years — long before there was a name for it or an app for it or an influencer selling it. I have lived through depression, reinvention, loss, grief, divorce, and the particular loneliness of a life that looks perfect from the outside. I know the cost of performing a self that isn’t yours. And I know what it feels like to finally stop.
 
People find me. In California they found me for decades. Now they find me in Colorado, in a city where I knew no one, because something in them recognizes something in me — a fully present quality, a willingness to see clearly without flinching, a lap that is safe.
 
If you are here, perhaps something in you recognizes it too.

Some women arrive at a certain age and quietly disappear.
 
I went the other direction.
 
After sixty-four years in California — as a nature child, a corporate climber, a CEO’s wife, a mother, a grandmother, a woman who collected bones in secret and built a barn full of animal spirits — I divorced, packed up, and started over in Colorado.
 
I didn’t do it because it was easy. I did it because I had spent a lifetime compelled to follow what is true over what is comfortable. And I wasn’t finished yet.
 
I am Cindie White. I am an author, an elder, and a death midwife. I have been doing deep inner work for over forty years — long before there was a name for it or an app for it or an influencer selling it. I have lived through depression, reinvention, loss, grief, divorce, and the particular loneliness of a life that looks perfect from the outside. I know the cost of performing a self that isn’t yours. And I know what it feels like to finally stop.
 
People find me. In California they found me for decades. Now they find me in Colorado, in a city where I knew no one, because something in them recognizes something in me — a fully present quality, a willingness to see clearly without flinching, a lap that is safe.
 
If you are here, perhaps something in you recognizes it too.

Some women arrive at a certain age and quietly disappear.
 
I went the other direction.
 
After sixty-four years in California — as a nature child, a corporate climber, a CEO’s wife, a mother, a grandmother, a woman who collected bones in secret and built a barn full of animal spirits — I divorced, packed up, and started over in Colorado.
 
I didn’t do it because it was easy. I did it because I had spent a lifetime compelled to follow what is true over what is comfortable. And I wasn’t finished yet.
 
I am Cindie White. I am an author, an elder, and a death midwife. I have been doing deep inner work for over forty years — long before there was a name for it or an app for it or an influencer selling it. I have lived through depression, reinvention, loss, grief, divorce, and the particular loneliness of a life that looks perfect from the outside. I know the cost of performing a self that isn’t yours. And I know what it feels like to finally stop.
 
People find me. In California they found me for decades. Now they find me in Colorado, in a city where I knew no one, because something in them recognizes something in me — a fully present quality, a willingness to see clearly without flinching, a lap that is safe.
 
If you are here, perhaps something in you recognizes it too.