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An Inspired Chat with Julia Henning of Silverlake

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Julia Henning. Check out our conversation below.

Julia, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. Are you walking a path—or wandering?
I think for me, the answer is that I’m always doing both. My life has never looked like a straight climb up a ladder, and I don’t think it ever will. I’ve never been someone who fits neatly into a linear model of success, where each rung is predetermined. Instead, I live by what I call my sacred yes, the instinctive pull toward what feels aligned, alive, and true. That sacred yes doesn’t always lead me forward in a straight line; it often takes me sideways, around corners, or into spaces that feel unexpected. But I’ve come to trust that those detours are the path. When people hear “wandering,” they often assume it means being lost or aimless. But my wandering is intentional. I don’t move without awareness. Every pivot, every risk, every new chapter in my career or identity has been a conscious choice, even if it looked unconventional from the outside. I’ve written books, built immersive retreats, coached clients through transformation, and followed creative callings that didn’t have a blueprint. None of it was linear, but all of it was essential. Right now, I’m in another transition; moving cities, closing one chapter of my life in Los Angeles to return to Chicago. On the surface, that could look like wandering. But for me, it’s an intentional pause and redirection. It’s a chance to step into a new landscape that feels more human, more rooted, more aligned with the questions I’m asking myself now. The truth is, wandering has shaped my identity. It’s taught me to embrace curiosity over certainty, to let the questions lead, and to design a life that feels like mine, not one that’s just handed to me. My career has grown out of that same ethos. I create spaces where people can explore their own paths without pressure to have it all figured out, because I know firsthand that the wandering is where the meaning is found.
So yes, I am walking a path. But the essence of my path is wandering. The wandering isn’t a deviation; it’s the very texture of the journey. And that, to me, is not only intentional, it’s sacred.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Julia Henning. For years, I called myself a lifestyle designer or a life coach, but the truth is my work goes beyond typical “life coaching.” What I really do is closer to being called a soul retrieval facilitator; I create spaces where people can gather back the scattered parts of themselves, piece them together, and let their true nature lead their lives. From there, everything changes: their choices, their beliefs, and the way they move through the world. Ease is at the center of it all. Not ease as escape, but as alignment; the power of living in a way that feels deeply right. In practice, my work takes many forms. Through one-on-one coaching, I guide clients through transitions, identity shifts, and belief rewrites. Together, we unpack the stories that keep them stuck, design rituals and structures that support who they’re becoming, and practice new ways of showing up that feel authentic and sustainable. I also create immersive group experiences, retreats, workshops, and in-person events that invite people to reset and reconnect with themselves in community. These aren’t motivational “quick fixes”, they’re containers for people to slow down, reflect, and reclaim the truth of who they are.

My book, It Gets to Be Easy (If You Let It), was born out of my own process of choosing alignment over force. But I didn’t want it to just live as words on a page. So I created interactive resources to go with it, exercises, guided reflections, and practices that help readers embody the philosophy in real time. It’s not just a book you read, it’s an experience you move through.
What makes my path unique is that it’s always evolving. Right now, I’m expanding into projects that feel like the natural next layer; developing Symposium, an immersive retreat that blends myth, ritual, and self-discovery in the redwoods of Northern California, and envisioning an inclusive luxury spa as a sanctuary for restoration, belonging, and soul-level care that honors the universal sacredness of communal care and spa culture. I’m also passionate about bringing more somatic communities, like ecstatic dance, into the forefront of Chicago’s cultural fabric, because I believe people are craving embodied release and deeper connection now more than ever.

For me, this isn’t about building a brand for likes or metrics. I treat my work like a piece of art; constantly unfolding, alive, and in relationship with the people it reaches. That’s what makes it special: it’s not performance, it’s presence.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
I think the part of me that believed I had to hold everything together alone. For so long, I carried an identity built on being the one who could manage it all, anticipate it all, and never falter. That version of me kept me safe, it helped me survive, and it gave me the resilience to build the life I have now. But it also kept me in a constant state of vigilance, as if I always had to prove my worth by doing and holding more. That part of me has done its job; it showed me my strength. But now, it’s time to let it go so I can step into a softer strength, one that’s rooted in trust, in shared responsibility, and in allowing life to meet me halfway. I don’t need to white-knuckle my way through anymore. The part of me that was fueled by proving has served its purpose. What I’m making space for now is a self that leads with ease, receives support, and knows that surrender can be just as powerful as striving.

What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering taught me presence. Success is often celebrated for what it brings: recognition, momentum, possibility, but suffering strips everything down to what actually matters. It showed me how to sit with myself when there’s nothing shiny to point to, no achievement to distract me. It taught me that my worth isn’t tied to accomplishment, but to how deeply I can hold myself in the hardest moments. Suffering also gave me humility; an understanding of fragility, of how quickly life can shift. It softened me toward others in a way success never could, because it made me see that everyone carries invisible battles. It also sharpened my sacred “yes” and “no.” Pain clarified what isn’t worth my energy, and taught me to recognize alignment not by how good something looks, but by how it feels in my body and spirit. And I’ll be honest, sometimes I’ve chosen suffering. Not recklessly, but with awareness. There are moments I’ve walked straight into the fire because I knew there was something on the other side I couldn’t reach any other way. Those seasons of anguish have been initiations; hard, yes, but also sacred. They built strength in me that comfort never could. Success may have built my confidence, but suffering built my compassion, my capacity, and my depth. And honestly, it’s those lessons, both the ones life handed me and the ones I chose, that anchor me more than any win ever could.

Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What do you believe is true but cannot prove?
I believe that nothing we live through is wasted. Even the heartbreaks, detours, and collapses that felt like endings have become part of the architecture of who I am. The very things that cracked me open also made me more whole.
I believe our lives are guided by a quiet intelligence; what some call synchronicity, others call coincidence, and some dismiss as mysticism. To me, it feels like the hum beneath the noise: the right book showing up in my hands, the unexpected conversation that shifts everything, the closed door that redirects me toward the path I was meant to take. I can’t prove it, but I know that what looks like wandering often reveals itself, in hindsight, as guidance. Suffering taught me this more than success ever could. In the darkest seasons, synchronicity showed up like a lantern, reminding me that even pain belonged to a larger pattern. That life isn’t random, but threaded with meaning if we’re willing to notice.

I also believe in ease; not the shallow kind that avoids effort, but the deeper kind that comes from alignment. When we stop forcing and start trusting, doors open that striving never could. Ease isn’t laziness; it’s living attuned to that quiet current of synchronicity. And lately, I’ve been questioning our obsession with labels. Society depends on them, but I’ve learned that they can both connect and confine. What happens when a label doesn’t fit? Do we contort ourselves to match it, create a new one, or live in the space of not knowing? In my relationships and in my identity, I’ve discovered there’s truth in the in-between, in the freedom of what can’t be pinned down. So what I believe, without proof, is this: life is more mysterious and intentional than we admit. Nothing is wasted. Meaning reveals itself in patterns and synchronicities. Ease is power. And sometimes the truest parts of us can’t, and shouldn’t, be reduced to a single label.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. Have you ever gotten what you wanted, and found it did not satisfy you?
Yes, many times. I’ve gotten the thing I thought I was supposed to want: the relationship that looked perfect from the outside, the opportunities that carried prestige, the milestones that checked all the right boxes. And yet, once I had them, I felt hollow. I had chased the image of fulfillment instead of the reality of it. Those experiences taught me that desire can be deceptive if it’s built on external validation or inherited ideas of success. What we “want” is often shaped by what we’ve been told to want. And so I learned to ask a deeper question: Does this nourish me, or just validate me?
Now, I move differently. My wants are measured less by appearance and more by resonance. Wholeness has become my compass, the measure of whether something feeds me and, in turn, allows me to be an offering. If something requires me to fracture myself to attain it, it’s not for me, no matter how shiny it looks. And I’ve discovered that real satisfaction comes not from getting everything I think I want, but from living in alignment with what actually makes me feel alive.
In a way, I’m grateful for the times I got what I wanted and still felt empty, because they revealed the difference between success as society defines it and fulfillment as I define it. They showed me that the sacred yes isn’t about arrival at all. It’s about the ongoing practice of choosing what’s true.

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Taylor Collazo

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