Jess Arneson, LPCC

“Your soul is both of you and of the world. The world cannot be full until you become fully yourself.” ~ Bill Plotkin

Maybe you’ve tried traditional talk therapy and something was missing. Maybe you’ve always found more relief in the woods than on a couch. Maybe you’re moving through grief, anxiety, trauma, or a major life transition—and the usual approaches feel too small for what you’re carrying.

If any of that resonates, you’re in the right place.

Working with Jess means therapy doesn’t have to look like sitting in a fluorescent-lit office, parsing the same story week after week. It can happen outside, with your feet on the ground and the wind in the trees. It can include your body—not just your words. It can make room for the parts of you that feel too raw, too wild, or too spiritual to bring into a conventional therapeutic space.

Whether you’re seeking somatic therapy for trauma, EMDR for anxiety or PTSD, or nature-based counseling to reconnect with yourself after a period of loss or disconnection, Jess offers a therapeutic relationship that meets the fullness of who you are. She works with adults navigating grief and loss, depression, life transitions, and the kind of existential restlessness that comes from knowing there’s something deeper available—but not quite finding the door.

For those drawn to ancestral wisdom and earth-based practices, Jess also integrates traditional skills—fire-making, hide tanning, hunting, storytelling—as living metaphors for intuition and self-remembering. These aren’t add-ons. They are portals back to a part of yourself that modern life tends to bury. Ceremony, ritual, and rites of passage are also available for those who feel called.

Sessions are available remotely, or outside in nature in the Boulder, CO area. Wherever you are on your path, there is a way in.

Beyond the therapy room, I am deeply inspired by the possibility of bringing people back into relationship with the wild—not as a weekend escape, but as a genuine homecoming. I lead and co-facilitate wilderness retreats where participants have the opportunity to learn ancient sacred practices: hide tanning, fire tending, storytelling, and other skills that have held human communities together across generations.

These gatherings are close to my heart because they offer something therapy alone cannot always reach—the felt sense of belonging to something older than your own story. When hands are busy scraping hide or coaxing a spark from a bow drill, something in the nervous system softens. Old grief surfaces. Laughter comes easily. People remember skills their bodies somehow already know.

I believe these practices are not relics. They are medicine. And bringing them into the wilderness—away from screens, schedules, and the noise of modern life—creates the conditions for a particular kind of healing: slow, rooted, and real.