Shifting Spaces, Deepening Roots

When my friend Joan, owner of the Healing Arts Center, first reached out about the opportunity to move my practice into the Heartland Center, my immediate thought was: no, thank you. I wasn’t looking to leave my space. I loved it. It had held so much — my own work, the healing of so many clients, the energy of all the moments that made me proud.

That room witnessed years of who I was becoming. It held the long days and late nights of building something from scratch as a single mom. It held the quiet stories shared in whispers, the grief released through breath, the laughter, the shaking-out of overwhelm, the resilience in every session.

It held me.

My practice has never been just a business — it has always been an expression of self. A place where my own healing unfolded right alongside the healing of others. Where I learned to trust my intuition, refine my craft, listen more deeply, and let the work transform me as much as my clients.

So the idea of leaving was painful. Not because the new opportunity wasn’t good — but because I was attached. Attached to what I built. Attached to what it meant about me. Attached to the identity I had woven into those walls.

But attachment is one of the first teachings I ever learned in yoga: Aparigraha — non-grasping, non-possessiveness. And right alongside it, Ishvara Pranidhana — the practice of surrender.

Not the passive kind.

The intentional kind.

The kind that says, “I can release what I built, trust the process, and make space for what wants to emerge — even if it’s not what I planned.”

So I sat with it. Slowly. Honestly. Tenderly.

And the questions that guide my life rose up again:

What are my values? Am I living in alignment with them? If not, where is life asking me to readjust?

Community.

Accessibility.

Gentleness.

Sustainability.

Creativity.

Care.

Joining a collective of women healers wasn’t just a move — it was a chance to grow into these values with more integrity, more spaciousness, and more breath. It lowered my overhead, which allows me to practice ahimsa — nonviolence — in the most practical way: by no longer overextending myself, by letting go of the internalized pressure to push, produce, and perform.

I can rest.

I can take breaks.

I can pace my days with more presence.

That, too, is nonviolence.

As I accepted the offer and allowed the internal shift to happen, I realized that my old space wasn’t the only expression of what I had built or who I am. It wasn’t the only place where intention, care, and creativity could live. In my new room, I had the opportunity to start fresh — to bring in the energy of what could be, while honoring the foundation of what had been.

I spent time painting, redecorating, and arranging the space with intention. Every color, every object, every detail became part of the energy I wanted to hold for my clients and for myself. This process allowed me to bring my creativity into the move, to lean into the flow of change, and to feel grounded even amidst the physical and emotional work of transition. It reminded me that the essence of Exhale — the heart, the care, the healing — travels with me, not with the walls of a building.

As I settled into the new space and brought my intention, care, and creativity into every corner, I began to feel how this move could ripple outward — not just for me, but for the community I’m a part of. The work I do at Exhale is never only about the massage itself; it’s about cultivating presence, offering support, and creating moments where we can breathe and return home to our bodies, even amidst the weight of the world.

It’s in this spirit that I continue to shape Exhale into a space that’s accessible, compassionate, and rooted in care. For those navigating challenges, there are ways to make sessions more attainable: $5 off with a food shelf or monetary donation, sliding-scale options, and open, judgment-free conversations about what works for you. These offerings are more than logistics — they’re an extension of my commitment to living my values, to honoring every body, and to nurturing the connections that remind us we’re not alone.

And it’s hard to miss the heaviness in the world right now — a reality so many in our community are navigating every single day. Rising costs, uncertainty, shifting policies, and the emotional weight of simply trying to make life work. I feel it as a single mom. I see it in my clients. I hear it in the stories shared on my table. The pressure, the vigilance, the exhaustion… it adds up.

Massage has never been a luxury to me. It’s a way back into the body — back into breath, back into safety, back into ourselves. It’s how we get our soul crushed back into our body when life pulls us too thin.

This new space at the Heartland Center for Natural Healing gives me room to expand that work — with more community connection, more opportunities to gather, and more alignment with the values that shape everything I do.

Leaving my old space carried a weight i didnt fully expect. It wasnt just a building- it was yours of effort, growth and countless moments of shared vulnerability. I felt pride, nostalgia, and a quiet ache for all the stories that space held. And yet, moving forward, I felt a clarity too: what mattered wasn't the walls or familiar routines, but the intention, presence and heart I bring to each session, each client, each moment.

This transition has reminded me that growth is often messy and tender, that release can feel heavy and liberating all at once, and that new spaces- like new seasons- are invitations. Invitations to step fully into what we value, to expand, and to bring care and creativity into the world in ways that weren't possible before.

I carry gratitude for the past- for all it taught me, for the people who wakled though that door, and for the courage it gave me. And I carry curiosity and excitement for whats unfolding now, knowing that the work continues, deepens and evolves here, in this next chapter.

Thank you for being a part of this journey with me,