Why The Fools Bag?

The Fool is my favorite energy to wrap myself in.

In tarot, The Fool is the one who sheds what she doesn’t need, travels light, and steps off the beaten path with nothing but a day pack and a deep inner yes. She’s not naïve; she’s willing. Willing to take leaps of faith, try something new, and walk the road less traveled—even when no one else understands why.

The Fool is also the court jester energy: the one who can say the things no one else dares to say. Historically, jesters were kept close to the king not just because they were funny, but because they could slip hard truths between the jokes and name exactly what was going on in the room.

That’s what this space is for. The Fool’s Bag is the little pack you carry as you jump into your own unknown!

Perimenopause as portal, second spring as initiation.

Inside the bag are your tools and archetypes—the tarot cards, experiments, and tiny witchy practices that increase your energy bar and level you up (+2 health, +5 connection, and +10 quantum consciousness)—that help you travel lighter as you shed what’s no longer you. It’s where you get playful, get honest, and let clear, kind truth catalyze the next version of you.

Being the Fool is taking yourself a little less seriously, trusting what you KNOW, and having a lot more fun while you do the bravest work of your life.

My Perimenopause Portal Story

For years, my body had been trying to get my attention.

I kept waking up too early with this awful cocktail of anxiety and dread that would eventually morph into a full-body wave of heat. I was still having regular periods, so I didn’t immediately connect it to “the change.” I did what women are told to do: I went to a naturopath, an acupuncturist, took the herbs, tried the supplements.

Nothing really explained the core of what was happening.

Then I had this weird, quiet OH moment:
“This is my hormones. This is… perimenopause.”

I started Googling and realized, for the first time, that “menopause” is just the moment after 12 months without a period. All the volatility and confusion before that is called perimenopause. My mind was blown. Having a name helped, but it didn’t change the experience yet.

Most mornings followed the same pattern.

I’d wake with a surge of adrenaline, bizarrely clear and pain-free for a moment. I’d think, “Oh wow, there I am.” Then it would feel like a damp dishrag was being laid over my face—between my eyes, across my nose. My thoughts would cloud. Irrational anger and anxiety would roll in. My free, clear self would recede under the weight of it, but a part of me would still be watching, an observer.

Then the heat would come. A tingling warmth would spread over my whole body at once, blooming into a prickling hot flash. I’d throw off the covers, sweat, and breathe myself through it, repeating the mantra, “It’s just hormones. I’m not actually this panicked.”

As soon as I got up and walked around, the dread would ease. My practitioners had given me some explanation for this (It’s your adrenals!), and they were right. But the science only took me so far; it didn’t make me feel truly supported or seen.

So I put on my scientist-experiment goggles in a different way.

If this kept happening, if my clear self was still in there watching, then these symptoms weren’t just random torture; they were a pattern. A call. An initiation.

I realized I was done outsourcing my experience to “experts” who treated this like a list of symptoms to manage. Everything I’d learned through years of tarot—archetypes, metaphor, the way images unlock truths we can’t yet name—suddenly felt relevant to what my body was doing.

Perimenopause, for me, stopped being “a phase to get through” and became a portal.

At the same time, my life was mirroring this initiation. I had done my season as the “magic hermit” and then gone back into the “real world” of business and day jobs. I thought I could do the same kind of job differently this time, but a year in, my enthusiasm evaporated. I went from boppy and bright to obviously unhappy. My boss must have thought I had two personalities.

My relationship reached a breaking point too. I loved my partner, but I couldn’t be myself with him; I was taking care of him too much. I moved into a tiny studio, hoping he’d see that space could be good for us. He couldn’t. I broke up with him.

A few months later, I was sitting on my studio bed when I felt a deeper call.

The easy thing would have been to cut him loose and stay safe in my solitude. I’d done that before. But there was this knowing: if I did that again, I’d be choosing “fast and alone” over “further, together.” I realized that my old obsession with doing what was “right”—even magically “right”—was just another way of outsourcing my knowing.

So I did the scariest thing: I said yes again. Not to the old version of us, but to a new experiment where I stayed fully myself with him.

The same experiment came into my job. I started advocating for myself, working one day a week from home, telling the truth about how I felt. I let my clear-is-kind directness come back, and I began to see people’s reactions as what they really were: defenses getting poked by truth, not proof that I was “too much” or “wrong.”

I stopped making their discomfort mean I was bad.

I realized that my presence is catalytic. I naturally stir growth in people and systems, and when that hits their walls, it can look wild. But that doesn’t make my magic wrong; it makes it effective.

So instead of numbing out at my desk playing games on my phone, dreading every minute, I decided to turn my whole life into research:
“I am going to learn this lesson so I don’t have to recreate this situation ever again.”

I built a morning ritual at my “magician’s table,” what I call my desk. I kept writing my book, loving it in all it’s messy first draft-ness. I let myself dream of work that actually loved me for who I am.

I trusted that if I said yes to my own magic, the signs would follow. And they did.

An INFJ coach appeared through a writing buddy. Old newsletters about entrepreneurship resurfaced in my inbox right when I was ready. Courses about creating your own offers showed up. My whole life was suddenly full of “be your own boss, bet on yourself” signposts.

For the first time, I had the grounded confidence to say yes.

That’s how I found this business pathway and this course, and why I’m here now, shaping everything I’ve lived—perimenopause, magic hermit years, relationship initiation, job catalysts—into something real for other women.

This entire transformation began with me acknowledging:
“I am in perimenopause. And there is something deeper being offered to me here.”

I said yes to the portal. Now I help other women do the same.