YOUR BODY KNOWS THE WAY
We are all part of a living web, interconnected, interdependent, and never truly alone.
Hello dear one,
I’m so glad you came here. I want you to know that…
You are more than your thoughts. You are made of stories, traditions, sensations, emotions, breath, imagination, energy, patterns, relationships, nature, and ancestry. We are all made of these things. Our heart beats and speaks to us in whispers—waiting for our ear to softly listen.
When we find ourselves trying to rise above our pain but nothing is working, it doesn’t mean something is wrong with us. It means something is ready to be acknowledged, heard, and felt. Not everything must be transcended—some things ask to be held.
Depression, anxiety, and grief are not illnesses to fix, but symptoms alerting us to what needs tending. There’s a secret garden in our heart that has been waiting for us to return—home to ourselves, to our truth, to our body’s wisdom.
We will always belong here. And the body knows the way.
I grew up in a lineage of women shaped by heartbreak. My great-grandmother lost her life to it. My grandmother and mother lost their ability to love through it. This kind of grief wasn’t often spoken about, but it was everywhere—woven into our silences, our disconnection, our shame, and the blatant disapproval of any liberation from it.
I didn’t lose my mother to death, but to the weight of her own pain. Her love was distant, unreachable, and outsourced to society’s approval. That absence left a deep imprint—a quiet, aching disconnection from my own heart, and from the feminine ground I longed to belong to. For a long time, I didn’t know how to name what I was feeling. But the ache led me inward. I began to listen to the parts of me that had been waiting to be seen—the grief, the longing, the quiet knowing that there was more.
Through years of embodiment work, somatic healing, and deep inner inquiry, I began to reconnect with what was lost—not only with myself, but through the generations before me. I found a sense of belonging that didn’t come from anyone else, but from within. Over time, I came to understand: this grief isn’t just mine. Many of us carry a passed-down disconnection—from soul, from softness, from nature, and from the truth that we were never separate to begin with.
Now, I hold space for others on that same journey—to feel what’s been buried: a treasure in the shadows, waiting for us to trust the wisdom of the body and gently come home to ourselves. You don’t have to do it alone. Together, we walk slowly, with care, toward what has always been yours.
