We've had some amazing new faces join us recently, and I just want to take a moment to say — welcome, welcome, welcome! We're so happy you're here. To all our newcomers: this is YOUR community now too. Don't be shy! Jump into conversations, ask that question that's been on your mind, drop a comment on something that catches your eye, or share something you think the group would love. There are no strangers here, just friends you haven't met yet. And to our longtime members — let's show our new folks some love! Say hi, share a tip, or tag them in a conversation they might enjoy. The best communities aren't built by a few loud voices — they're built by everyone being curious, and keeping things alive. So introduce yourself, tell us a little about you, and let's get the conversation going! Welcome to the Rooted community! Welcome And truth some of you have been here a while and I am just getting around to the formal public welcome!!! I see you my friends! @Maggie Brelis-Farrell @Lauren Blakely @Neila Rettebah @Stacey Coley @Emily Erb @Grant McDougald @Z Coley @Andréanne Brault @Lex Davirro @Kirk Ward @Erica Stetson @Kisma Reidling @Donna Winfield @Em F @Bahar Shemshadi @Brynna Price I the vein of community ice breakers and the weekend share your favorite weekend activity? And what are your hopes for this space?

It’s been a minute. And honestly, that’s been intentional. I said I’d stop forcing a daily rhythm and instead write when something moves me—and today, something did. I posted yesterday what my mentor and coach, Wendy Haines, said that really got me reflecting. “Folks change only when there is a compelling enough reason to change.” Sit with that for a moment. Because it’s not saying people can’t change. It’s not saying they don’t want to. It’s saying something deeper: the knowing isn’t enough. It never has been. We live in a world that floods us with information—podcasts on nervous system health, books on trauma, Instagram posts about regulation. And most of us know what we should be doing. We know we should sleep more, move our bodies, have the hard conversation, put the phone down, step outside. We know. But knowing doesn’t move the body. A compelling reason does. Within the Neuro-Somatic Integration™ Framework, this is one of our foundational principles: practice before insight. Not because insight doesn’t matter—but because the nervous system doesn’t change through understanding. It changes through experience. Through felt, embodied, repeated moments that teach the body something new is possible. And here’s the piece that Wendy’s words illuminate: the body won’t move toward that new experience unless something—deep in the system—registers the reason as compelling. Not logically compelling. Somatically compelling. The kind of compelling that you feel in your chest, your gut, your bones. A compelling reason isn’t an argument you win with yourself. It’s a felt truth the body can no longer override. It’s when the cost of staying becomes heavier than the cost of moving. Sometimes that reason arrives as a crisis—a diagnosis, a loss, a relationship ending. But it doesn’t have to. Sometimes the compelling reason is quieter: a child’s face that reminds you what you’re modeling. A moment of stillness where you finally hear what your body has been whispering. A community that makes the next step feel possible instead of terrifying.

Happy Tuesday, Rooted community. 🌿 Let’s talk about the thing nobody puts on the inspirational poster: what happens when you don’t feel like doing the practice. Tis morning I for some reason was not feeling my humming. I did it but my body was revisiting it. Not the day you forget. Not the day life genuinely gets in the way. The day you could do it—and you just… don’t want to. The walk feels pointless. The breath practice feels boring. The journaling feels like one more thing. Your body leans toward the phone, the scroll, the snack, the couch—toward anything that doesn’t ask something of you. Here’s what I want to say about that: this is the work. Not the days when practice feels nourishing and wise. Those are the reward. The work is the day you do it anyway—imperfectly, reluctantly, for three minutes instead of twenty—because you’re building something your nervous system can’t build in a single inspired session. Within the Neuro-Somatic Integration™ Framework, we say that regulation is capacity, not calm. And capacity is built the same way it’s built everywhere in nature: through repetition. Through rhythm. Through showing up again. Your nervous system doesn’t learn from one beautiful walk in the woods. It learns from the pattern of walking. The repeated experience of rhythm, breath, ground contact—that’s what rewires the stress response. That’s what builds the neural architecture of safety. And that architecture requires practice that outlasts motivation. The hard truth? Practice is never finished. There is no graduation day. 🌱 Micro-Practice The next time you notice the resistance—the pull away from the practice—don’t fight it. Just get smaller. One minute of breath instead of ten. A walk to the end of the block instead of around the neighborhood. Three conscious exhales before you pick up the phone. The size doesn’t matter. The showing up does. That’s how grooves become pathways. 💬 Drop into the comments: - What’s the practice you most resist—even though you know it helps? - What’s your version of “getting smaller” when motivation disappears? - Has there been a practice that started as a grind and eventually became something you actually look forward to? What shifted?

While Country is not my first genre, there are a few country artists that I love and Dolly Parton is at the top of that list. In the first song, Dolly & Ricky Van Shelton sing Rockin' Years. This is a lovely Sunday morning song that shares the joy and challenges of commitment and living life. Chris and I have been together 30 years and while we are not quite at the Rocking Chair phase yet, we are inching our way there. The second is Islands in the Stream with Kenny Rogers, another country artist I love. I am adding a second Dolly song because, well because I can! Do you have a favorite Dolly song? Or a song that is speaking to you this Sunday?

Happy weekend, Rooted community. 🌿 This came up in a team conversation last week and it landed for all of us—so we wanted to bring it here. There’s a real difference between self-care and self-indulgence—and there’s room for both in a well-regulated life. But it matters that we don’t confuse them. Self-care (and co-care) are the practices that build resilience. They help us sustain. They regulate our nervous system and expand our capacity over time. They often require intention and sometimes even discipline—going to bed on time, moving your body, having a hard conversation, spending time in nature, breathing with someone who holds space for you. Self-care is proactive. It’s what fills the cup so you can keep showing up—for yourself and for others. Self-indulgence is different. It’s the second glass of wine with friends. It’s the donut. It’s the Netflix binge. And here’s the thing—it’s not bad. We’re human. Pleasure is part of being alive. But self-indulgence comes at a cost. It feels good in the moment, and the return is short-lived. The key is knowing you’re choosing it. In fact, yesterday, after some good self-care (support group and 6-mile hike) I dropped on the couch and binged The Pit and I am glad I did it! When we choose to indulge intentionally—when we slow down, savor it, and enjoy it fully without telling ourselves a story that it’s “self-care”—something important happens: shame is far less likely to show up afterward. Shame thrives in the gap between what we tell ourselves and what we actually did. When we call indulgence “self-care,” we set ourselves up for that gap. But when we name it honestly—“I’m choosing this because it’s going to feel good right now, and I’m going to enjoy every bit of it”—we stay in relationship with ourselves. That’s regulation. That’s choice. 🌱 Weekend Micro-Practice Before you do the next thing that “feels good,” pause and ask yourself: - Is this building something in me—or giving me a break from something? - Am I choosing this with my eyes open? - Can I savor this fully, without needing to justify it later?