Beneath the thinking mind. Beneath the stories. Beneath the identities we have gathered and the ways we have learned to hold ourselves together.
There is something older. Something wilder. Something that remembers how to move.
My work is an invitation to enter that place.
My name is Ave Sandstrom.
I am a trauma-informed breathwork and ecstatic movement facilitator, a dancer, a poet, and a lover of life.
I believe there are worlds inside of us. Beneath the thinking mind. Beneath the stories. Beneath the identities we have gathered and the ways we have learned to hold ourselves together. There is something older. Something wilder.
Something that remembers how to move.
My work is an invitation to enter that place. Through somatic breathwork, intuitive movement, and ecstatic meditation, I guide individuals and groups into immersive journeys through the body, into sensation, rhythm, breath, trance, and feeling. Into the places where words dissolve. Sometimes we breathe. Sometimes we dance. Sometimes the body begins to shake, spin, tremble, open, and move in ways the mind could never have imagined. Sometimes we surrender to the unknown. And in that surrender, something begins to reveal itself.
For over ten years, I have explored the body alongside Ronn Stewart, through an underground intuitive
dance practice he created called MoPeD. Through this practice, I found a doorway. A way out of the mind.
A way back into the body. I learned to let movement move me. To release control. To follow sensation into places I had never been before. I learned to shake. To spin. To tremble. To surrender. To let the body speak in its own ancient language. Through movement, I began to release what I had been carrying, sadness and despair, anger and frustration,
the things I had never found words for. And slowly, something began to emerge from beneath the weight of it all. Joy. Pleasure. Freedom. Bliss. Then breathwork found me. It found me in the darkest season of my life.
In 2023, I lost my dad, my aunt, and my grandpa within the span of a month. The world I knew disappeared. I didn’t know how to hold that much grief. So I ran. For two years, I escaped into different corners of the world, painting a face of perfection over my pain. I became very good at looking okay. I hid my pain from everyone. Including myself. Until one day, I walked into my first breathwork class with Rus at Valkyrie. And something inside of me broke open. The well of heartbreak I had been holding back flooded.
Everything I had buried began to move. The grief. The love. The pain. The longing. The parts of myself I had abandoned in order to keep going. Breathwork gave me somewhere to put it all. It created space inside of me to feel. It held me through the depths of despair and carried me toward radical bliss. The more I breathed, the deeper I went.
Into the body.
Into the mystery.
Into the silence beneath the noise.
Into a place I had been searching for without knowing I was searching.
A place of profound peace. A place of wonder. A place where the boundaries between myself and the world began to soften. A place where I could feel the pulse of life moving through me. And I began to remember something. That I was alive. Not just surviving. Not just functioning. Alive. This is the place I return to again and again. And this is the place I invite others to explore. I believe the body is a doorway. A doorway into healing. Into pleasure. Into grief. Into joy. Into connection with something larger than ourselves.
I believe there are forms of knowing that cannot be reached by thinking harder. There are things the body knows before the mind has language for them. There are parts of us that do not need to be fixed. They need to be felt. They need to be witnessed. They need to be allowed to move.
My work is an invitation to leave the familiar landscape of the mind and enter the living landscape of the
body. To follow the breath. To follow sensation. To follow the impulse to move. To journey beyond the self and into the infinite web of existence. To remember the strange and beautiful miracle of being here. I want people to feel more alive. I want people to remember that life is magical. That the body is not an obstacle to transcendence, it is the doorway. That pleasure can be a pathway home. That joy is not something we have to earn. That beneath everything we have been taught to be, something wild and radiant is still waiting. Waiting to breathe. Waiting to move. Waiting to come alive.
This is an invitation to return. To the body. To wonder. To mystery. To pleasure. To the pulse of life moving through you. To the part of you that has always known the way. To return to radiance. To return to peace. To return to power. To return to the wild, beautiful mystery of being alive. Fully. Wildly. Magically.
– AVE
That pleasure can be a pathway home.
That joy is not something we have to earn.
That there are things the body knows before the mind has language for them.
Those parts of us do not need to be fixed; they need to be felt.
That beneath everything we have been taught to be, something wild and radiant is still waiting.
That we are, all of us, waiting to come alive.
To the wild, beautiful mystery of being alive. Fully. Wildly. Magically.
A sanctuary for coming home to the body. Trauma-informed breathwork, ecstatic movement, and guided inner journeys with Ave Sandstrom.