I once went on a date with a powerlifter.
I told him about my idea to combine yoga and heavy lifting.
He told me to “stay in my lane.”

I checked out of the date then and there and never saw him again.

At one time in my life, a comment like that might’ve made me doubt myself.
But I’ve learned the cost of listening to people like that is a life half-lived.

I’ve never really stayed in one lane.
I’ve always followed what felt good — what ignited a spark in me.

Lately, I’ve been telling people about my new space.
I don’t even get to the intuitive healing part before they pause, trying to figure out how yoga and heavy lifting could possibly go together.

But I’m not teaching conventional yoga.
Yoga didn’t land for me until I brought in mobility and functional movement and until I found teachers who were questioning and redefining everything.

Heavy lifting would’ve felt hollow if I hadn’t brought in self-awareness and emphasised capability, empowerment, and confidence over aesthetics.

Spiritual healing felt too fluffy until I found ways to stay connected to the body.

I’m too grounded for most spiritual spaces.
Too deep for most fitness spaces.

So what do you do when nothing you’re offered really resonates?
You make your own thing.

I’m not doing this to be successful.
I didn’t do market research.
I didn’t ask what Motueka needed.

I’m building what I couldn’t find.

Because I’m done with other people’s boxes.
I’m done with compromising just to belong.

This is the question life keeps asking me:
Will you dilute yourself to be accepted, or stay true to what your soul is calling for, even if no one understands?

These days, I follow what feels light.
What feels alive with a spark of joy.

And the only judgment I get now is subtle.

My intuitive healing friends say, “I just can’t picture you lifting weights.”
My fitness colleagues go quiet when I talk about energy.

But I’m not here to make sense to everyone.

That’s mediocrity — fitting yourself into an easily digested box.

I’ve chosen not to be digestible.
I’ve chosen to follow what my heart desires.

I dated another man once — someone who had let go of his dreams.
He shared that with me like it was just what adults do.
I had empathy for his experience, but I couldn’t relate.
I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t fought to reclaim his dreams.

And so, I’ve been single for a long time. Thirteen years.

For a while, I thought that meant I was unlovable.
Now I understand, I’m just unwilling to settle for mediocrity.
Not in relationships. Not in life.

A little under a year ago, I made a decision that changed my life.
I gave up on dating, deleted the apps and decided to focus completely on myself.

That choice was one of the most empowering I’ve ever made.
I poured all the energy that had gone into searching for a partner into training for my first ultra marathon.

And in less than eight months after I began running, I ran 54 km.
It felt like an initiation into my own power. I was so proud of myself.
A few weeks later, I found my new studio space.

So no, I don’t have a business that makes sense to everyone.
I’m a solo parent.
I don’t have a partner to support me (financially, energetically, emotionally).

And I’ve accepted that I’m probably going to stay single the rest of my life.

Letting go of something I sincerely wanted was no small thing, but staying stuck, longing for a relationship that wasn’t appearing, would’ve cost me even more.

What I have now is a life that I have to didn’t abandon myself to live.
I didn’t compromise for a mediocre relationship.
I have autonomy over my choices and my path.
​I own my life.

And I feel more empowered than I ever have.

There’s no magical thinking here — but there is magic.

That’s the key to moving beyond the shadow of mediocrity — not to compromise.

Embodied Soul might not make sense to everyone at first glance.

Heavy lifting. Yoga. Intuitive healing. Strength training for trampers.
People might wonder how it all fits together.

But for me, this work isn’t random — it’s what I live. These are the practices that have shaped me physically, emotionally, and spiritually. They’re how I’ve come home to myself, again and again.


Yes, this business exists to serve others — but it’s also a living expression of my soul.
And one thing I can’t leave out of that expression is my love of tramping.


A few years ago, I walked the length of Aotearoa on Te Araroa.

I didn’t train for it. I just showed up and started walking.

What carried me through was a lot of determination — and the mobility and body awareness I’d built through years of functional yoga. But by the time I reached the bottom of the South Island, my body was struggling.

My joints ached. My muscles weren’t coping. Sometimes my knees would just buckle under the weight of my body and my pack. I was incredibly lucky I didn’t get injured.

My cardiovascular fitness was better than it had ever been — but my body was screaming for strength.

And, as I never do things halfway, once I’d settled here in the Tasman region, I bought a gym and taught myself how to strength train. I did a heavy lifting mentorship with Kathryn Bruni-Young of Mindful Strength, and completed a year-long course to become a certified personal trainer.

I don’t get out tramping as often now — I’ve switched to ultra running so I can stay closer to home for my daughter and my business. But the strength training I’ve done has made a massive difference for my tramping when I do get out. I feel more stable, more resilient, and far less wrecked at the end of the day.

And that’s why I started this group.


Unless you want to stick to the popular tracks, New Zealand’s backcountry is hard. The trails are often steep, uneven, and unpredictable.

Strength and mobility aren’t just “nice to have” if you want to tramp in Aotearoa — they’re essential if you want to do it sustainably and injury-free.

Being prepared makes the experience so much more enjoyable. You don’t come home sore the next day, and there’s far less fatigue at the end of a big day on the trail.

That’s what my  group is about — building the kind of strength that supports your body in the bush, so you can keep doing the things you love for as long as you want to do them.

It’s for people who would love to get out tramping more often — but who’d prefer to do it with a group.

For those who want to connect with others, feel inspired, and plan adventures together.

For those who want to feel more capable, more resilient, and more supported in their bodies.

We meet twice a week, and train with a focus on building strength, mobility, and stability. Not just for general fitness, but for real terrain, long days, heavy packs, and the kind of movement New Zealand’s trails demand.

Right now the group is all women. The vibe is relaxed and welcoming — a space to build strength and confidence in your body, at your own pace, alongside others who also love wild places.
​

As I prepare to move into my new space in Motueka, I’m doing a lot of things I’ve never done before. I’ve hired someone to build me a website. I’ve found a photographer to take photos for the website. I’ve set up a booking system, created proper intake forms — all the things.

I’ve run my own business for years, but I’ve always done it my way. Word of mouth. Low key. Low budget. Minimal systems. It worked well enough — but this time, I’m going all in.

While I’ve lacked confidence in the past, I’m now much clearer on what I want to create. That clarity hasn’t come easily. It’s come through years of practice. While I didn’t invest much in the outer packaging before, I poured everything I had into the work itself — training, certifications, and hours upon hours of hands-on experience, often working for little or no profit just to get better at what I do.

Over time, I’ve seen how this work lands — how it strengthens people, softens what’s tense, and supports real, grounded change. That’s what’s grown my confidence. That, and learning how to embody the strength I now help others build — to create a container strong enough to hold all of what I feel and sense in this world as a sensitive soul.

​This next chapter feels solid. Like the outer form is finally catching up to the depth of what’s been gradually building. Because honestly? A lot of what people put out into the world looks polished — but lacks substance. I’ve always done it the other way around.

What I offer is about more than fitness. It’s about strength, yes — but also about helping people feel more at home in their bodies. To move better in daily life. To feel more capable. Calmer. More resilient. The strength training, restorative yoga, and somatic work — they all work together to support that.

And then there’s the intuitive healing work. I don’t speak about it much — not everyone’s ready for that part — but those who are tend to find me, even without me trying to find them.

Here’s something I’ve come to realise: we don’t create the things we think the world needs. We create the things we’ve needed most. Everything I offer, I needed myself.

As a child, I was full of anxiety from undiagnosed autism and high sensitivity. I didn’t know how to relax until I found yoga nidra. I didn’t know how to meet grief and rage until I discovered safe, body-based ways to feel them. I didn’t know how to trust my intuition until Theta Healing showed up in my life. And I didn’t have a container strong enough for all that I am — until I found strength training. So, I offer the tools I never had.

But more than anything, what I’ve always longed for — and never quite found — is a true sense of belonging. I’ve walked into so many spaces and felt invisible. Not seen. Not included. Not welcome. It happened so often, I started to feel like I must be from another planet. Eventually, I realised: belonging doesn’t come from others. It doesn’t come from the external. It’s something we build within — a sense of belonging to ourselves, our bodies, this earth.

That longing is a deep wound for many sensitive souls — especially those of us who’ve never quite felt like we fit. So now, having slowly built that sense of belonging in myself — through the long journey of understanding who I really am — I’m creating a physical space where I belong. And in doing so, my hope is that others feel that too.

I want every person who walks into my space to feel seen. Included. Valued. And to recognise that their presence here is important. Because the greatest gift we have to give one another is our presence.

And the beautiful thing is — the people who’ve come to my classes lately have really embodied a sense of belonging and transmitted that feeling to others. New people are welcomed. People make space. There’s such a friendliness amongst all my classes which I’ve never felt before. And it feels like everyone who comes is meant to be here.

That’s the kind of community I want to build. Not one with in-groups and out-groups. Not a space where cliques form and exclusion masks itself as connection. But a space where people feel strong enough in themselves to stay open to others.

If that speaks to you — you’re welcome here.