A Little About Me and Why I Still Show Up

Because I know what it is to be lost in your own head and not know how to get out.

I grew up around alcoholism and domestic violence. Worked in drug and alcohol rehab as a young art therapist. Hitchhiked around Australia trying to outrun my own anxiety. Spent decades using movement and art to stay afloat without quite knowing that's what I was doing.

I just knew that when I moved, and when I painted, I could breathe.

When I stopped, I couldn't.

Twenty-five years, four studios, one reason

I learned to teach surrounded by paddocks - acres of big skies, milking goats, horses, hounds and homemade everything. For twelve years I ran a small studio in a country town where people drove for miles just to move and feel something shift. No trends, no mirrors, no noise. Just people who needed to move, and a teacher who showed up.

When my kids were small I trained the only way I could — CDs to DVDs to memory sticks to live-streaming teachers from the other side of the world into my lounge room at whatever hour I could find. No fancy studio. No easy access. Just determination and a willingness to show up.

Twenty-five years on — four studios, 7,500 bodies moved — my life has shifted gear entirely.

Then October 2024 happened

I was the first person to arrive at a fatal car accident. Saw some dark shit. And well — three weeks later, found myself without a partner in life and in business. Got that memo via text as he left the country. Apparently people jump ship when it gets hard. Wild times.

I now live with PTSD. My anxiety is no longer something I can think my way out of. I can only move it through my body, one breath and one session at a time.

I'm 53. A mum, a single one, of two incredible young women. I have raised them through this big life to be bold and to trust their gut. We have had a big life, full of real challenges. And without always knowing how to name it, we have used movement to survive them.

I continue to teach because I know what it feels like to need help and not know where to find it. To walk into a room and feel like you don't belong. To want to move your body but feel too tired, too anxious, too far gone to start.

You are not too far gone.

The people who find their way here tend to arrive quietly. A little anxious. Not very confident. Sometimes apologetic about it. They are carrying things that don't show up on scans. Lower back pain that won't shift. A heaviness that arrives without warning. The particular exhaustion of holding everything together while feeling like you're falling apart inside.

I see you. I honestly do. Because I am you.

Where I am now

My kids have grown and live on a remote station in the Kimberley. I split my time between town and an off-grid shack in central Victoria — soon to be my forever home. No grid, no noise, no nonsense. Land that needs tending, a revegetation project that gives me every reason to stay strong, a good Starlink connection, and a life that looks nothing like a wellness Instagram account.

That land is part of this too. The same discipline that gets me on the mat gets me out there — replanting what's been stripped back, harvesting seed with the Seed Bank of Australia so the species that belong to this place don't disappear, showing up to something slow and unglamorous because that's what actually regenerates anything, a body or a bush block. [→ read more about the land work here]

I'm also a painter. An artist. The same things that draw me to movement draw me to the canvas — presence, attention, big skies, and the quiet satisfaction of making something real with your body. I move so I can paint. I paint so I can move. It all comes from the same place.

I travel this chapter with my beloved Noonah — a giant Irish Wolfhound, quiet and gentle but strong and steady. She shows up for every class, even the early ones, and tells me when it's time to get off the mat and go outside. No fuss. No performance. Just presence. She is the perfect mascot for everything I believe.

Why this platform exists

This platform exists to be a record of what I know about movement, about survival, and most of all about showing up for yourself even when everything in you says you can't.

If something here makes you feel less alone — if it gives you one reason to get on your mat today — then it has done exactly what it was meant to do.

The world doesn't need another wellness brand. It needs real people telling the truth about their lives.

This is a brief intro to mine.

With deep kindness,Jo & Noonah