As you can probably tell, I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to learning. I’m endlessly curious. I love finding connections between things, following a question down a rabbit hole, learning something new, and then asking, “Okay, but what happens if we look at this from another angle?” That curiosity has shaped nearly everything I do.

 

My path has taken me through movement, fitness, yoga, meditation, Reiki, herbalism, nutrition, breathwork, trauma-sensitive practices, and botanical healing. Each one has given me another way of looking at the human experience. Over time, I began to see that these things weren’t separate at all. They were pieces of a much larger conversation about being human, about the body, about awareness, about the ways we move through the world, and about the relationship between our inner lives and the natural world around us.

 

And, perhaps most importantly, they became part of my own journey of coming home to myself.

 

I’ve never really been able to choose just one area of study. I’m a lifelong student, and I think that is one of the most important things I bring into my work as a teacher. I don’t believe that becoming a teacher means we stop being students. There is always more to learn, more questions to ask, more connections to discover, and more room to change our understanding as we grow.

 

That belief is at the heart of how I teach. I don’t want learning to feel intimidating or inaccessible. I want it to feel curious and alive. I want people to understand not only what we are doing, but why. And I want there to be room for questions, exploration, and the possibility that there may be more than one way to understand something.

 

Over the years, I’ve had some remarkable opportunities to teach and share what I’ve learned, including working with the military community. Those experiences changed the direction of my education. They prompted me to look more deeply at trauma, the body, the nervous system, movement, breath, and the many ways our experiences can shape how we move through the world.

 

They also prompted me to turn that same curiosity inward.

 

My own experiences with complex trauma became part of that deeper study. I began exploring not simply how we learn about healing, but what it means to actually live through the process of learning ourselves. That experience has shaped the way I teach because education is important, training is important, and knowledge matters. But I also believe we have to be willing to keep learning ourselves.

 

To notice our patterns. To listen to our bodies. To become curious about our responses rather than immediately trying to fix them. To recognize where we have choice. And to remember that healing is not something we master once and then move on from. It is a practice.

 

Today, my work brings together many of the things I have spent years learning and practicing. Herbalism and botanical healing invite us into relationship with plants, preparation, tradition, observation, and the natural world. Yoga and movement give us another language for exploring the body, breath, sensation, awareness, and choice. Meditation creates space to notice what is happening within us without immediately needing to change it. Reiki offers a quieter space for reflection, reconnection, and simply being.

 

My work with trauma-sensitive practices has also taught me the importance of autonomy, choice, and creating spaces where people can explore without being told what they should feel or experience. I don’t see these practices as competing ideas. I see them as different doorways. Sometimes we enter through movement. Sometimes through a plant. Sometimes through breath or meditation. Sometimes through stillness. And sometimes we simply begin by becoming curious.

 

This is also what I bring into teaching. I don’t teach because I have everything figured out. I teach because I love learning. I teach because I love making connections. I teach because I know how powerful it can be when someone takes something complicated and makes it feel approachable. And I teach because some of the most meaningful learning I’ve experienced has happened when someone created enough space for me to explore something for myself.

 

That is the kind of space I hope to create for others. Not a place where someone tells you exactly who you need to become, but a place where you can become curious about who you already are.

 

My education has grown over many years and across several disciplines, including personal training, nutrition, exercise therapy, powerlifting, Olympic weightlifting, rowing, cycling, yoga, Kundalini yoga, meditation, pranayama, yoga nidra, chair yoga, Yoga Trapeze, trauma-sensitive yoga, Reiki, and botanical healing.

 

My training includes:  ISSA Personal Trainer, ISSA Nutrition Specialist, ISSA Exercise Therapy, ACE Group Exercise, AFAA Cycling, USPA Powerlifting, USAPL Powerlifting, USA Weightlifting, Concept2 Rowing, BodyPump, TRX Group, TRX Sports Medicine, TRX FORCE, TRX TEAM, TRX Yoga, NOFFS, NOFFS SES, CFL Facilitator, YogaFit Level 1 and 2, 200-Hour YTT, 300-Hour YTT, 200-Hour Kundalini, 300-Hour Kundalini, 300-Hour TCTSY, 100-Hour Chair Yoga, 100-Hour Pranayama, 100-Hour Nidra, 100-Hour Prenatal, Yoga Trapeze, 100-Hour Meditation Teacher Training, 200-Hour Meditation Teacher Training, 300-Hour Meditation Teacher Training, and Reiki Levels 1, 2, and 3.

 

And, of course, I’m still learning.

 

There are always more books on the shelf. More plants to meet. More questions to ask. More things I don’t know yet. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Rooted Soul Apothecary grew from this lifelong curiosity and from my belief that learning can be both deeply meaningful and wonderfully approachable. It is a place for exploration. A place where plants, movement, meditation, reflection, and embodied practices can meet. A place where we can slow down enough to notice, ask questions, learn something new, make something with our own hands, listen to the body, spend time with a plant, breathe, and be curious.

 

Perhaps, little by little, it can also be a place to find our way back home to ourselves.

 

I’m Hollie, and I’m still learning, too.

 

I’m glad you’re here.