where body
meets soul

the heart
behind the smile

For as long as I can remember, I loved to sing stories, climb trees and smile free. Earth was my playground, and life an adventure.

When I turned the corner into my teens, tumultuousness hit harder than I was equipped to handle. The family home was ringing with arguments, and instead of union, we seemed to be growing further and further apart.

I was the middle child of five, raised by a single mother who had travelled far from her ancestral land - to escape an alcoholic, abusive father, an impoverished life and a home torn by war.

I am incredibly grateful for the courage my mum had, to get on a boat that would lead her into the unknown. This took me a long time to lãnh ngộ - a Vietnamese word for when wisdom truly lands, beyond the mind, somewhere deeper.

At eighteen, I was kicked out of home and spent the first decade of my adult life in a sea of lost and confusion - no sense of self, no family home to return to, no real purpose.

I was blessed to encounter yoga at twenty, after a sweaty jiu jitsu session one afternoon. I never knew folding forward could feel so good - discovering my breath for the first time, my emotions finally had a place to go.

But life was loud. The party scene was already enveloping me in a veil of alcohol and substances. The brokenness of my family kept me numb as I climbed the corporate ladder, and I was going deeper into a relationship that slowly eroded my self-esteem.

In the same breath as Saturn returning to me, I lost my job, my marriage fell to pieces, and I found myself homeless once more.

In the pit of rock bottom, I said to myself: I never want this to happen to me again. And if it happens to someone I love, I want to have the skills to support them.

It was then I learned about the many faces of abuse. Physical was obvious, and it became my saving grace. Emotional and psychological were more subtle. Financial was a surprise. I had countless examples in each category - and yet I couldn't bring myself to hate the other.

Rather, I turned the arrow inward, and lost count of how many times I grappled with - What's wrong with me? Why am I so broken? Where do I begin?

Fortunately, in the depth of quiet, an inner voice kept guiding me to stay close to what was real and true.

The most cathartic moments came when I found myself in a cramped space with all the belongings I could carry, bursting into uncontrollable tears. I let the grief come. Each time, the pain would pierce my heart. And when the waves passed, I was renewed - finding myself a little closer to who I knew I was.

I read books, did courses, sought teachers - determined to rise above my experience and bring others along with me. I dove into holistic psychology and learned how to actually alchemise the emotions that yoga helped me breathe through and sit with. These studies transformed my life, giving me a richer way of understanding my inner world, and how to connect with those around me more meaningfully.

Slowly, piece by piece, I put myself back together.

I realised the wholeness I had been seeking was much closer than I thought. I started saying kinder things when I looked in the mirror. And God forbid - I actually started feeling good in my skin. Having dealt with eczema since infancy, this felt like a miracle.

By the end of my Saturn return, I was ready to turn a new decade. In 2022, I was blessed to encounter a woman who was nothing short of an angel. Her unequivocal faith in me opened doors to abilities I had never before thought to unlock. I was told, after teaching my very first meditation class - is this really your first time? You're going to have an amazing career.

I used to think people said things like this to be nice. It would take years of sincere feedback from friends, teachers and community for it to really sink in.

In truth, I had no idea what I was doing. I kept my eyes closed, heart open and mind at ease - just enough - to follow the guidance of the light inside.

It's unbelievable to me, how much magic has ensued since my world turned upside down. I mourned for the younger version of me who felt she had to do it alone, and made a promise to her: to always be there, no matter what.

Sometimes it takes a few stumbles - a divorce, a loss job, a falling ill, a losing of friends – to learn that nothing is insurmountable. This too shall pass.

I recognised that holding on so tightly to the narrative - to false senses of security - was suffocating. As I continue to build safety within myself, my hands are learning to loosen their grip. I breathe a little easier. Surrendering feels less scary each time.

In all of this chaos, I don't have a single answer that will make it right. It wasn't one modality that solved all my problems. It was each moment, each step, made with intention, presence and care. And I wouldn't be who I am today without the people who lifted me with their affirming words and wholehearted support.

We can't be everything for everyone. We can only be our best self in each moment - sometimes that looks like I'm tired but I'm here anyway, and sometimes it's I'm full, glowing, and ready to give it everything I've got.

Life is made of mess, so that we can learn to appreciate the beauty. Flowers blossom in certain seasons, and roots outlast winter - all with a purpose. Nature moves in cycles, and so do we. It is the resistance to it that usually creates suffering.

After all the healing work, I've put down my weapons. And I invite you to join me in surrendering yours.

Healing is not our mission, and life is not a battlefield. Some hard things happen to us, yet we don't have to be defined by them. As humans, we are designed to learn by trial - it is where our best work emerges.

What is the point in all this? Nothing phenomenal really. I'm just a fellow traveller, sharing my story, hoping it makes even one person feel a little less alone.

If we're ever blessed to walk together, I want you to know the person behind the smiling face. I've got scars and bruises, some still healing. I'm still wobbling my way through life - sometimes crying, sometimes dancing.

I don't take it as seriously as I used to. And the most important lesson for me now, is to lean into what truly lights me up and brings me joy. It's an astoundingly hard thing to know, after spending most of my life pleasing others.

It's okay though. Unlearning never felt so fun!

Always,