You Are the Code: 21 Days to Clarity, Power & Flow

Why We Wrote This

It’s 1998 and you’re vegan in New York. The studio is on the third floor, above a deli that smells like hot oil and burnt sugar.

You take off your shoes. They’re not cute. They’re practical. You’re tired. You’ve been tired since you were eight.

The music starts. It’s drums and string—sharp, golden, hypnotic. You’re in the back, next to the wall.

“Left hip up,” she says.
You move.
She smiles.
“No, the other left hip.”

Everyone laughs.
You do too, but you feel it in your throat.

So you try again.
Lift. Tilt. Lower.
Not for applause—just to feel the click between your body and the sound.

Your hair sticks to your neck. You smell like clove and overripe mango. And suddenly—somewhere between the drumbeat and the awkwardness—your breath comes back.

Not all of it. Just enough to know you’re still here.

You walk home slow. The night is humid. Your chest feels... open.

And you don’t need to talk about it. You just know something small is healing.

That’s what this work is.
It’s not a fix. Not a breakthrough. Not another thing to track.

It’s a breath. A letter. A mirror. It’s belly dancing on a Tuesday night when no one clapped but you showed up anyway.

This is a rhythm you can actually live with. For the girls who became the mom.

For the women who became the system. For the ones who keep the lights on while everyone else falls apart.

Let this be your re-tuning. Let this be your respite. Let this be the moment where you don’t hold the room—you hold yourself.

You are the code. And you’re right on time.