It’s exhausting out there

Being an ethical, caring human in these times takes a real toll.

There are so many demands on your attention and your energy. Just in your personal life, there’s enough stress and strain and heartache to run you ragged.

Then there’s the rest of the world, filled with violence against people you love and communities you care for. There’s crisis after crisis, with the promise of more on the way. It’s way, way, way too much for one body to hold.

You’re tending to it all the best you can—fighting to stay afloat in your personal life and searching for ways to interrupt the harm that’s happening in the collective.

You’re squeezing in time for self care when you can. You’re leaning on your people and they’re leaning on you. You’re finding ways to contribute, and you’re finding a way to make it through your days.

But it’s all just. So. Exhausting.

Don’t look for answers—call for care

Burnout is a signal from your body, and it’s a wise one. It says something needs to shift. Your body won’t let you move forward until it does.

It’s easy to miss that message. A culture obsessed with productivity will always tell you to ignore your exhaustion, put your head down, and make it through the rough patch by force of will alone. Especially when so many people around you are hurting, there’s always that nagging voice that says you’re not doing enough.

And when you do have a moment to turn and face the burnout, it’s tempting to get caught in problem-solving mode: looking for answers and solutions that can vault you out of the stuck place, ASAP.

It makes so much sense to try to push past it or strategize your way around it. But while those active approaches offer a sense of control, they’re often a subtle way of continuing to exert yourself—and your body is crying out for rest.

It’s like hitting the gas when a car is stuck in the mud. You spend more and more energy while getting more and more stuck.

You don’t need to figure anything out right now

Problem-solving comes later. First, you need to call in good, deep, spacious care.

Care that reconnects you to the web of life beyond your solitary self, helping you draw on the wellsprings of guidance and support available to you from spirit, lineage, and the living world.

That kind of care doesn’t just gear you up to get through another day, the way a cup of coffee gets you through a bleary morning (no shade intended—we love you, coffee). It’s care that replenishes your whole system and restores your energy from the roots.

It’s care that allows you not just to survive your life, but to shape it towards the real true dreams and longings that are living underneath the stress and strain.

It’s time to tend that deeper place

What if you had a space where there was nothing you had to do, nothing you had to fix, nothing you had to figure out?

What if you could show up, name how you’re feeling, and then just relax and receive?

What if you could leave that space feeling refreshed, nourished, and connected to your body, your magic, and your purpose?

I offer spiritual care that drops below the urgency of daily life and calls in support from spirit.

We’ll check in about how you’re feeling, and I’ll adapt the session in response. When the burnout is extra heavy, we’ll turn to relaxing and replenishing energy work. When there’s a need for big-picture guidance, we’ll turn to Tarot. When you’re needing to access the wisdom of your own body and heart in response to daily challenges, we’ll turn to embodiment practice and guided visualizations.

And we’ll translate the guidance that comes through in our sessions into small, manageable practices that can weave more spirit and more care into your daily life, even when things feel hectic.

Over time—I recommend at least three months of sessions, twice per month—you’ll notice that fewer days feel like a fight against a relentless current. You’ll realize that parts of your life that had felt stuck have started to move.

You’ll feel those deeper dreams and longings coming back on line—along with the energy to let them move you.