Jodi Lynn Turpin

When I was 16, I remember lying on the floor in savasana at a tiny yoga studio. I closed my eyes and entered a peaceful, dreamlike world all my own. I was floating through the trees on the forest floor, looking up, feeling completely at ease in my heart.

That moment lit a spark in me. I knew I was here for something deeper—not just for myself, but to guide others too. And in the process of discovering that purpose, during a time that wasn’t so peaceful or joyful, I got loud. I wanted everyone to feel and remember the joy that lives inside them.

Looking back on the trainings I’ve taken, the healings I’ve received, and the deep soul work I’ve done, there's one thing that always pulls me through: joy.

I went through a divorce that brought waves of grief and pain. And yet, when I looked deeper, I found so much goodness and growth that I felt profoundly grateful.

My dad struggled with alcoholism, and that left me feeling confused and abandoned. But after moving through the heaviness, I realized how that experience shaped my heart. It taught me how to love without judgment, how to care deeply, and how to serve this earth. That kind of understanding brought a joy that words can barely touch.

Maybe the greatest gift I can offer is this: a reminder that joy is always available—but we must first be willing to move through the pain, the mess, the real stuff.

It’s not easy, but we are worth it. I deserve to feel deeply rooted and whole, and so do you. I feel that truth for every person I meet.

I even get excited (in the gentlest, most loving way!) when someone shares that they’re going through a hard time. Because I know that these moments—though challenging—are often the doorway to something profound. I think, “Wow, they are so brave. They deserve the healing that’s waiting for them on the other side. I hope they can feel the joy beginning to stir.”

I share all of this from lived experience and love.

I’ve journeyed through intense physical pain—twice breaking my back, and more recently, healing from a concussion.

The first time I broke my back, I didn’t quite get the message. But the second time, I found myself on the floor, unable to move, just staring at my hands. They felt so soft. I had never noticed them like that before. I kept asking people to feel them—because I knew they’d never be that soft again! It was only possible because my community stepped in and did everything for me. Their care gave me space to rest, and that softness was a symbol of deep, loving support.

For the first time ever, I let people care for me. Friends helped with the kids. Family brought food and cleaned. My husband showed up in ways I hadn’t let him before. That changed my life.

I also chose to heal naturally—no pharmaceuticals, just herbal remedies, lots of laughter, and sweet conversations. (And as a side note: sneezing with a broken back? Highly not recommended… LOL.)

Years later, life gave me another healing invitation through a head injury. My body was fine, but my mind wasn’t. I was forgetful, slow, and often scared. It was disorienting. But it was also a turning point—a full-body, soul-deep reboot. I sank low, the lowest I’ve ever been, and when I began to rise again, I saw everything with new eyes. Joy had a new texture. Relationships became more sacred. And I began to see what no longer served me.

I made some really tough decisions—stepping away from certain relationships and environments that weren’t supporting my growth. It hurt. I grieved. But on the other side was clarity… and even more joy than I’d ever known.

Today, I’m surrounded by friendships that feel nourishing and true. Many of my closest people are healers themselves—folks who see the beauty in life and aren’t afraid to do their own work. I’m inspired by them constantly.

Even with all the joy I’ve found, I still feel sadness, anger, anxiety, and fear—just like anyone else. But I know now what helps. I go outside. I walk every day—through my yard, the forest, or by the lake. It soothes my body, quiets my mind, and brings my spirit back online. One of the biggest messages I share is this: Go outside. Let the earth hold you. She knows how to help.

Coming full circle—back to that 16-year-old girl lying in savasana—what I saw that day was a glimpse of something sacred. My own inner Eden. A place I could return to anytime I needed to feel held, grounded, and connected to the magic of life again.

I believe we each have a place like that inside us. A quiet center. A refuge. A spark of joy that never really leaves us. It may get buried, but it’s always there.

It’s my deepest wish to help others reconnect with that space—to choose joy, even in the mess, and to bravely walk through this life with softness, honesty, and a little bit of sparkle.

One step, one moment, one healing at a time.

With love,
Jodi