Healing, Memory & Magic

Sometimes healing looks like a plane ride home. Other times, it looks like colors dancing behind your eyes in the quiet of a session, or the simple act of folding laundry with intention.

On my recent trip back to Boston, I was nervous. I expected it to be heavy—a swirl of grief and nostalgia. But what I found was something far more beautiful: connection. I was surrounded by the spirit of my mother, memories of my father and uncles playing penny poker, the scent of Grammy’s sauce simmering on the stove, wine in hand, and music rising from late-night guitar jam sessions. These moments anchored me, softened me, and surprised me with their warmth. I didn’t realize how much I needed them.

Back in the salon, I felt that same warmth in a healing session—a gentle heat blooming across my face, tension releasing from muscles I didn’t know were holding on. I saw colors—pink, orange, green—moving through me like soft waves. It was a reminder that healing doesn’t have to be loud. It can be subtle. It can be sacred.

We often underestimate the power of the small things. Placing crystals on the body to shift energy. Inhaling essential oils that work their way straight to your bloodstream, balancing your nervous system with every breath. Even sweeping the floor or watering your plants can become a ritual—if you let it. When we infuse intention into the everyday, life softens.

This is the heart of everything I do—whether it’s an intuitive haircut, a moon wash, or a quiet energy session. I want you to feel the difference. I want you to remember yourself, to let your shoulders drop and your jaw unclench. I want your healing to be personal, and powerful.

Pride Month also reminds me how deeply important it is to celebrate the diverse threads of who we are. Every story, every identity, every journey deserves to be honored. You are not too much. You are not too far gone. You belong here.

And that’s the beauty of this work—whether we’re talking, laughing, crying, or just sitting in silence under the hum of the dryer—we’re always creating space to come home to ourselves.

With love,

Susan