SAGE & SASS: The Newsletter Your Inbox Has Been Quietly Begging For (While Your Spam Folder Stages an Intervention)
Your inbox is a graveyard. Not metaphorically. Statistically. Right now there are 847 unread emails decomposing in there, including three newsletters you subscribed to during a wine-fueled “self-improvement” spiral at 2am, a receipt from that store you bought ONE candle from in 2021 (they’ve emailed you 156 times since, they miss you, they’re worried), and at least seven emails from LinkedIn congratulating you on work anniversaries for a job you left four years ago. Your “read later” folder isn’t a system, it’s a mass grave with good intentions.
Your nervous system has been scanning every email for years, hoping for recognition instead of another subject line that makes your eyes close involuntarily. Your blood knows the difference between words that perform and words that land. It’s been waiting.
Here’s the thing about most spiritual content: it’s either so woo-woo your eyes roll back into last Tuesday and get stuck there, OR so aggressively “evidence-based” it reads like a dissertation with a yoga mat. The “love and light” crowd makes you want to throw things. The “optimize your morning routine” crowd makes you want to take a nap out of spite.
And somewhere in the middle, you’re just trying to figure out why you keep dating the same person in different fonts and whether your 3am anxiety has a point or just a flair for drama.
Your chest just did something while reading this. A little opening. A little “oh, someone finally said it.” That’s not coincidence. That’s your body recognizing home before your brain finished inspecting the neighborhood.
(Your brain is still on Zillow. Your body already moved in. Classic.)
WHAT YOU ACTUALLY GET
Free subscribers:
Weekly-ish emails that land somewhere between “holy shit that’s funny” and “wait, I need to sit down because something just shifted in my entire worldview and I wasn’t prepared.”
The kind of writing that makes you laugh on public transport and then immediately pretend you were coughing because everyone is staring and you can’t explain that you’re reading about nervous system regulation and it was HILARIOUS, Karen, you wouldn’t understand.
Zero charge. Zero commitment. Just words arriving when they’re ready, not when some content calendar app sends me a passive-aggressive notification.
Paid subscribers:
Everything above PLUS the deep dives. The long-form pieces where we actually GO into the thing instead of just making eye contact with it from across the room and pretending we didn’t see it.
The tools that actually work at 3am when your nervous system is doing its nightly performance of “Everything You’ve Ever Done Wrong: A Retrospective.”
First access to everything I create. Books, courses, things I haven’t invented yet but probably will at 4am when I should be sleeping.
Your bones don’t need more “content.” Your bones are tired. They need words that feel like someone finally handed them a permission slip to stop performing wellness.
WHO IS THIS FOR
People who are too smart for woo-woo but too weird for mainstream self-help. Too spiritual for cynics but too practical for the person at the party who wants to tell you about their past life as a Egyptian priestess (again). Too honest for “good vibes only” but too stubborn to become fully nihilistic even though, honestly, some days it’s tempting.
People who’ve bought the journals. Done the apps. Attended the breathwork workshop where everyone cried and hugged and you smiled and participated while internally wondering if there was something wrong with you because you mostly felt hungry and your foot fell asleep.
Your nervous system doesn’t need more information. It needs permission. Permission to trust what it already knows. Permission to stop auditioning for a peace it already owns.
(If you’ve ever ugly-cried in a grocery store parking lot and then had to go back inside to buy toilet paper like nothing happened, this is your newsletter. If you haven’t yet, bookmark this. We’ll be here when it’s your turn.)
WHO AM I
I’m Dea. I’ve been reading Tarot since age 5 because apparently regular sandcastles were too basic for my mother’s parenting philosophy. While other teenagers were discovering MTV, I was translating Plato and wondering why nobody else found ancient Greek philosophy genuinely exciting. (They didn’t. I was not invited to many parties.)
40 years of reading cards. 8 books. A career trajectory that went: glamour magazines → PR → professional listener to strangers’ deepest wounds. Turns out I was always doing the same job, just in different costumes.
Something in my nervous system reads rooms before my brain catches up. People’s masks slide off around me like I’m a walking permission slip to fall apart. I used to think I was bad at small talk. Turns out I was just accidentally doing therapy without a license.
I translate what bodies know. That’s the whole thing. I help you hear what your nervous system has been trying to tell you while you were busy overriding it with productivity apps and positive affirmations that made you feel vaguely worse.
Your bones are tired of being told they’re a project. They were never broken. Neither were you.
THE FINE PRINT
I don’t spam. I don’t send garbage just to hit a schedule. I swear sometimes. I mix neuroscience with ancient wisdom and refuse to apologize for it even when academics get twitchy. I will never tell you to “raise your vibration” or “manifest abundance” or “trust the universe’s timing” because if one more person tells me to trust the universe’s timing I will scream and the universe can deal with THAT energy.
I will tell you to breathe. To feel your feet on the floor. To notice what your body is doing while your mind is rehearsing an argument you’ll never have with someone who probably isn’t thinking about you at all.
Your nervous system is about to start getting emails it actually wants to open. That’s a strange and beautiful thing. Let it be strange. Let it be beautiful. Let it be the one subscription that doesn’t end up in the graveyard.
Statistically speaking, people who subscribe to Sage & Sass are 78% more likely to experience sudden clarity while standing in line at the grocery store, 64% more likely to laugh at their own patterns instead of spiraling about them, and 100% more likely to have at least one email in their inbox that doesn’t make them want to lie down.
(Your current inbox cannot offer these statistics. Your current inbox is too busy sending you discount codes for things you googled once during a moment of weakness in 2019. It doesn’t know you. We will.)
Subscribe below. Your nervous system already said yes. Your brain is just doing paperwork at this point.
