Dear ones—

Last week I wrote that one of the things I'm most excited about isn't the retreat itself.

It's the people holding it. Here, I introduce you.

One of the beautiful things about graduating from the two-year RBM training is that an extraordinary team supports my final retreat. Most of the facilitators you'll meet are currently deep in their 1,200-hour training, with many, many hours already spent learning this work—and even more lying on the mat themselves. And Jess, who you'll also meet, is already a seasoned practitioner.

For one weekend, we'll have roughly one facilitator for every two participants.

That level of support is incredibly rare. It's also one of the reasons I don't think I'll ever be able to offer a retreat quite like this again.

I could tell you about co-regulation.

About how our nervous systems quietly borrow steadiness from one another.

About why being surrounded by people who know how to stay present changes the whole experience.

But I think their stories tell it better.

The people holding the room matter as much as the room itself.

Meet your facilitators.

If I had to describe Jess in one sentence, it would be this:

She reminds people that they don't have to become someone else to become more themselves.

Jess grew up in a hippie commune in Australia, rebelled against it, and built a successful corporate career. On weekends, she balanced the office beige with ceremonies, breathwork, and personal growth—affectionately calling herself a weekend spiritual rebel.

Until one day the margins became too small.

Today she lives on the wild west coast of Ireland with her husband and dogs. She jokes that breathwork inspired her to burn the beige clothes and bring colour back into her life—quite literally.

One of my favourite things she said to me was:

"I thought I was already a pretty free person. Breathwork showed me how much I was still masking."

I think a lot of us can relate to that. We don't necessarily feel trapped.
Just... edited. A little quieter than we really are. A little more acceptable.

Jess loves festivals, music and a proper Irish session... and then disappears into the woods with her dogs for days at a time.

She reminds me that aliveness isn't about becoming someone new.

It's about having the courage to become more yourself.

Angela is the woman you hope sits next to you on a plane.

If you've spent more than five minutes with Angela, you've probably heard her laugh. It's wonderfully contagious. Three hours later, you'll know about Alaska, grandchildren, leadership, heartbreak, breathwork... and you'll probably still be laughing.

She's the kind of woman who has lived enough life to know that resilience isn't something you read about. You earn it.

Angela spent over thirty years in Alaska helping build organizations, lead teams, and supporting tribal nations, nonprofits and government agencies through meaningful change. More recently she packed up once again and headed for Arizona because of, as she says with a laugh, "family junk and arthritis."

That sentence tells you almost everything you need to know about her.

Breathwork found Angela during one of those seasons many of us recognize. Life had asked a lot. She often says RBM switched something back on—not by becoming someone different, but by remembering that vitality was still there.

What I love most about Angela is that she doesn't offer hope because she's avoided hardship. She offers hope because she's walked through it.

And somehow... she still laughs like that.

Caitlin quietly makes a different way of living feel possible.

A few years ago she and her family left city life for a tiny off-grid cabin in the mountains of New Mexico. Two young children. An outhouse. A cabin they continue to renovate one slow weekend at a time.

One of my favourite stories about Caitlin is that she signed up for the two-year RBM training before remembering they didn't even have electricity or internet. Instead ... she figured it out.

Breathwork found Caitlin during one of the hardest seasons of her life—a heavy postpartum chapter many of us are all too familiar with and that further rocked her marriage to the core.

It wasn’t a straight line, but somewhere in the middle of it all, she discovered something steadier than certainty—her own deep self.

Caitlin reminds me that courage isn't always loud. Sometimes it looks like saying yes... again and again, before you know exactly how.

Kim has spent a lifetime serving the divine through her hands.

As a pastor.
A hospital chaplain.
An energy healer.
A massage therapist.
A breathwork practitioner.
Different expressions. The same calling.

She lives in Cortez, Colorado, where the landscape itself feels like prayer. More than any title, Kim is someone who listens for where Spirit is leading next.

Long before breathwork, Kim hiked the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine—a journey that became part pilgrimage, part healing from abuse in her younger years. I don't think she ever really stopped walking. She just exchanged one pilgrimage for another.

That's how she found RBM. She often says she didn't choose breathwork. Breathwork found her. One session was enough for her to know she had found another path she was meant to walk.

Since then, breathwork has helped soften old trauma, restore confidence after a serious car accident left her fearful of driving, and remind her just how vibrant life can be.

And if food is your love language, you've found your person.
Kim believes a good meal can be every bit as sacred as a good conversation.

(Lucky us! She will be tending the retreat kitchen and offering massages Friday and Saturday evening for anyone whose body asks for a little extra care.)

and finally … me.

It's much easier to write about everyone else. We rarely know our own handshake. 🤷‍♀️

Where to start… I'm a mother.

I spent my younger years chasing self-realization through entrepreneurship—opening yoga studios, creating teacher trainings, starting a brewery, and even, rather inexplicably, importing wine barrels from Europe. (That one tragically failed.)

These days I'm a yoga therapist, somatic practitioner, breathwork facilitator, writer, and gatherer of people.

Mostly though, I'm a maker of places.

Lately that place has been a little home high on the side of a mountain, where mama moose bring their babies to drink from our pond. A house forever asking to be painted. A garden asking to be tended. And a quiet decision to stop chasing the next career milestone so I can homeschool my nine-year-old before he becomes a tween.

Many ninety-minute breath sessions have a funny way of doing that.

They keep breathing life into my deepest intentions until my choices begin to resemble my values.

I'm endlessly fascinated by the creative force of the feminine.

Quite literally.

I've recently been trying to sculpt a vulva out of clay that also looks like Mother Mary. I haven't succeeded yet. But I keep trying.

People often tell me that I have a gift for making them feel at home.

In a room.
In a conversation.
And, if I'm lucky...

a little more at home in themselves.

Honestly,

this isn't just the first Breath & Soma retreat.

It's also my RBM graduation retreat.

The culmination of two years and over 1,200 hours of training.

Looking back, it feels less like arriving somewhere and more like coming full circle.

I'd be deeply honored if you were there.

If you've been circling this retreat...

come.

The early bird pricing ends this weekend.

Reserve your place with a $500 deposit before Sunday and you'll save $200.
Payment plans are available for every room.

I have a feeling this weekend is going to become one of those weekends we'll still be talking about years from now.

I'd love for you to be part of it.

See you on the mountain,