The Quiet Way Forward

Why the soft, subtle shifts are often the ones that truly last

I've been thinking a lot about healing lately—what it really means, and how it's showing up in my life now versus when I first began this journey.

One of the biggest things I’ve come to realize is this: there’s no quick fix. There’s no shortcut, no single modality or magic bullet that heals everything overnight. Healing is a process. It takes time, integration, and most importantly—compassion.

My journey, like most, has felt like riding a wave. There are the high moments full of breakthroughs and joy, and then the lows—where the old stories and emotions resurface. But what I’m learning now is that healing isn’t something that has to be forced or intense to be effective. It can be soft. Slow. Even quiet.

In the beginning, I wanted to learn everything. I was a sponge, soaking up every tool, every practice, every healing modality I could find. I was eager—and also trying to find relief from pain. It was a beautiful part of the journey, full of exploration and curiosity.

One of the most intense experiences I’ve had was during a 4-day Ayahuasca ceremony. It was powerful, raw, and revealing. I faced shadows I didn’t know I was carrying and realized how tightly I’d held onto certain survival stories — stories that became part of my identity. I thought I had to “work” on them every day to heal, but I didn’t yet understand that healing doesn’t mean sitting in struggle 24/7.

Yes, we need to feel our pain—but we don’t need to drown in it. We don’t need to be in a constant state of fixing ourselves.

I didn’t know then how to embrace myself without the struggle. I didn’t know how to be kind to myself in the process. I went into healing like a bull in a china shop—if I wasn’t pushing, I felt like I wasn’t doing it “right.” That energy showed up in how I coached others too. I was still trying to make things happen, instead of allowing them to unfold.

What I’ve learned now is that healing often looks like planting seeds. And then patiently allowing them to root. Grounded healing, for me, is about moving at your own pace—not worrying if others are ahead or behind.

These days, I crave slow and quiet. I don’t need big shifts to feel like I’m growing. Sometimes it’s the smallest moments—turning off the TV to breathe, choosing nature over a workout, laughing with my kids, playing with my niece, or sharing time with friends—that feel the most healing.

Healing doesn’t have to be separate from your everyday life. It is your life. It’s in how you care for yourself, with an open heart. It’s in how you allow yourself to explore joy. How you define success on your own terms. How you rest. How you connect.

Lately, I’ve been feeling called to collaborate and build community. Spending time with soul sisters, simply being seen and celebrated in all our quirky, magical ways—that, too, is healing. To laugh, play, dance, and just be without needing to perform or prove anything.

What I want most is to remind you that healing doesn’t always come in the form of breakthroughs or loud transformation. The micro-moments matter. In fact, they’re everything.

Because healing doesn’t demand anything from you. It just asks that you show up, gently and honestly—as you are.