You know what your weird is.

The version of you that exists when you're not trying to explain who you are or what you do. The one who can spend three hours following a strange thread because the layers beneath it speak to you. 

The one who reads Jung for fun. Has gone down the Lilith rabbit hole. Can talk about shadow work kink. Make a filthy joke that makes everyone choke on their drink. Then go home to dance with fairies.

Who finds something sacred in the ridiculous. Who has a relationship with ritual, mythology, sensuality, symbolism, art, magic, the body, desire, death, pleasure, psyche, whatever strange territory keeps calling your name.

Maybe you've danced your rage naked in a room full of women chanting. Maybe you've performed on a stage dressed as a clown to tell a story of the heartache that comes before a life broken open. Maybe you sip your coffee while you channel angels. Maybe your humor illuminates a truth. Maybe the connections you make and ideas you have seem completely obvious but nobody around you has thought about it that way before.

Maybe how you engage with the world makes perfect sense to you even though it would sound completely f*cking unhinged if you tried to explain it to someone else.

So you learned to edit it out of how you show up, especially in your work. But the threads are still there. And when they come through, you get a response.

And that's where things get tricky.

“So... what do you actually do?”

You reach for the respectable words. You smooth the edges. You make it make sense.

"I help women come home to themselves." "I support authentic expression." "I facilitate transformational experiences."

As you're saying it your gut clenches:

That's not it.

It's not necessarily false. It's just not you.

The strange, specific, alive thing that makes your work yours, distinct, and worth choosing has somehow disappeared from the sentence.

And there's another problem.

Even when you do let the weird in, how in the world do you make it make sense to someone who doesn't live inside your head?

How do you take the thing you see, sense, know, create or transmit and give it enough language and structure that someone else can understand what they're actually walking into?

Because personality isn't structure. And your weird isn't automatically a message. And being more visible isn't the same thing as opening a door people can actually walk into.

Maybe you've been trying to solve that by changing your niche (btw, we don't throw that word around here). Your offer. Your bio. Your website. Your content strategy. Your colors. Your fonts. Your tagline.

And as you try to get clearer, you keep leaving yourself out of the very work that actually makes you stand out.

The things that make you laugh, the things you're obsessed with, the things you can't stop noticing, the things that feel too strange to put on the sales page, the things you can perceive but haven't found language for yet. 

You learn to recognize your weird as material.

Not all of it needs to become content. Not all of it needs to become your offer. But it can begin informing the way you see, shape, speak about, and share your work.

You stop trying to make your work sound interesting and begin recognizing what is already interesting about it.

You can talk about what you do without watching your personality drain out of the sentence. You can be specific without feeling like you've made yourself too small. You can be strange without becoming incomprehensible. You can be taken seriously without becoming boring.

You can let more of yourself into the work without asking someone else to decode you.

And when someone encounters your work, they recognize something. Something in the way you see. Something they've been looking for. Something they couldn't quite name.

“Oh. This is my kind of person.”

And:

“I understand what you're inviting me into.”

DAY ONE 

Wednesday, Sep. 16th | 10am-11:30am CT

Find the strange little fingerprints all over your work.

Before you can articulate what makes your work different, you have to notice what is already different about you. 

We enter through the recurring imagery, strange connections, obsessions and particular combinations of qualities nobody else could replicate because nobody else is you.

This is where we begin finding your signature through ritual theatre.

--

DAY TWO

Thursday, Sep. 17th | 10am-11:30am CT

Shape what you've been seeing into the work you're here to do.

Now that we've found the threads, we bring them back to the work itself. 

Because this isn't ultimately about being interesting on the internet. It's about your work.

Who are you here to serve? What are you here to do? How do you do it? And what makes your way of doing it different from the thousand other people offering something that looks vaguely similar?

We bring the threads together through a three-part shaping practice. One that makes something in your body go:

Oh. There I am.

And lets someone else understand:

Oh. I know what you're inviting me into

--

DAY THREE

Friday, Sep. 18th | 10am-11:30am CT

Let your way of seeing become something people can actually encounter.

Now we take that work and create the doorway into it. 

What if you stopped asking What should I post? and started asking What am I noticing that others aren't?

Your life becomes material, not because everything needs to become content, but because your way of seeing is part of the transmission.

We practice moving what's inside you into expression, using the threads we've uncovered to create stories, ideas and content that invite people into the work without sanding it down until it no longer has your fingerprints on it.

Content creation becomes ritual.

By the end of SHINE, you'll have more than “better messaging.” 

You'll have language for what makes your work yours, a clearer way to talk about what you do and who it's for, a more distinct shape for the work you're bringing into the world, and real stories, ideas and content you can share.

But you'll also have something less tangible and, I think, more important:

A different relationship with the weird material that makes your work worth choosing.

You'll know how to find the threads. How to recognize what matters. How to bring those threads back into the work. And how to create a doorway other people can actually walk through.

This is for you if...

➜ You have a whole fucking universe inside you but struggle to put it into words. You know there's something distinct about the way you see, but when you try to explain your work, the language feels flat, vague, or strangely unlike you. 

➜ You have a rich body of experience and a constellation of influences that don't fit neatly together. Spirituality, embodiment, creativity, psychology, sexuality, ritual, mythology, art, consciousness, or whatever beautiful rabbit holes you've followed that keep showing up in the work.

➜ You have a lot of personality but somehow sound generic online. You keep changing your bio, refining your messaging, or trying to find the “right” words because none of them quite capture what makes your work yours.

➜ You worry that being more specific will make your audience smaller, or that being more strange will make people take you less seriously. So you keep editing out the very things that make your work distinctive.

➜ You have ideas, perceptions, practices, or ways of working that don't fit neatly into an existing category. Maybe you can't quite explain what you do because there isn't an obvious box for it.

➜ You suspect the things you've been trying to hide might actually contain clues about the work you're here to do. The obsessions, stories, humor, contradictions, strange connections, and ways of seeing you keep returning to.

➜ You already have something alive in you that wants to become more legible, more coherent, and more shareable. You're not looking for someone to tell you who to be. You want to learn how to bring what's already there into the work without sanding off what makes it yours.