Here’s the Truth.

*a newsletter worth sharing again. authenticity is the frequency

I’m a walking contradiction.

I have been a bodyworker for 10 years this year. Operating in the wellness space as a wellness girlie, consuming wellness content and light worker jargon for equally as much time.

But the first four years of my career were spent in active alcoholism-which I have stumbled in and out of the last year.

And the truth is, I like that I have a little dirt under my fingernails.

I like that there’s a little bit of grunge, a little nasty bass line in my step.

The truth is, I have broken my own heart, broken my own trust, and questioned everything so many times, I wondered how I could possibly qualify to teach anything.

And then I remembered, I don’t have to be perfect to teach.

I don’t need to sugarcoat my medicine, because sometimes the bitterness is actually what our bodies need.

I didn’t have any sign-ups for TANGIBLE and I want to thank each and every one of you for asking questions about the offering. It’s clear to me that I need to be clear in my marketing, and I can’t wait to revisit a new launch more inspired and focused on the vision I hold.

Because I know I want you to have what I can teach you in your homes. So stay tuned! And in the meantime, come see me in Manchester VT for bodywork.

Here’s a poem I wrote yesterday after giving into vices and avoiding feelings for a day:

How do I stay calm and present?

When I know your mind…

how it seems fickle.

But actually, it rambles.

Like a drunken poet

unaware of how his words whittle the world.

Rambles—

as does the trickle of snow melt

that drips from the tip of your mind—

sculpting rocks

carving streams

in whispers of your dreams.

As the world thaws,

your thoughts loosen their icy grip at the mountaintop

and drips down the rock face

collecting more water, ideas, and plans as it swirls.

Babbles become brooks, brooks become rivers.

Bursting at the banks, yearning for the big wide ocean.

White tipped rapids run down your arms and gush from your finger tips.

How do I find my peace?

My part in your sea?

I'll start by dipping my hands in your cool waters

in hopes that the peaks in your finger prints will press into the valleys of mine

in a moment of fleeting matrimony—

For better, or for worse.

For here, or for there.

For now, or for never.

strawberry wreathe + trout dream watercolor

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in serendipity and joy

-Soule