Lauren McCourt, Founder Rituals of the Wild Hart and the author Year of the Wild HartIt is not intended to create a product. He traveled to survive. Her journey began not with a business plan, but with a quiet, broken moment that many women will recognize: trying to hold everything together, even when the pieces are falling apart.
The birth of his son should be a moment of unbridled joy. Instead, it was laced with physical trauma, followed by an emotional reckoning that she could no longer put off. “I remember thinking, keep it together now,” he said. “You can break up later.”
He came later. And with that darkness that demanded to see.
Like many, Lauren tried to maintain an image of competence and composure while quietly opening up. In the logic-driven corporate world, he learned to solve problems, execute and lead. But this was different. It wasn’t a problem to be solved; it was a deep and internal crisis that brought him to a crossroads: leave his life behind completely or finally seek help. She chose therapy, a decision that would be the foundation for everything that followed.
When the body speaks louder than the mind
Through therapy, Lauren began to unravel the roles she played long before becoming a mother: how she struggled, how she stressed, how she carried the weight of expectation. It was her therapist who first suggested journaling, an activity Lauren had never associated with. Around this time, her healing journey expanded beyond conversation and into the body itself. Yoga, especially the trauma sessions, became a profound turning point.
For years, Lauren lived with chronic pain. She carefully followed professional advice, tried physical therapy, chiropractic care, and various medical interventions, all with limited relief. Only through these gentle, embodied actions did something finally change.
“It was the biggest surprise for me,” he says. “Understood that my body was not broken, he communicated.” This insight was quietly radical. He believed that problems should be solved quickly, he discovered something new: the cure is not the equation. This relationship is cyclical and deeply personal. Her body did not make her weak. It demanded something his mind never knew how to give: safety. It begged him to feel safe so he could finally let go.
“It also took shape Year of the Wild Hart. I knew that for a product to truly support healing, it had to be relational, cyclical, and deeply personal rather than custom. “
Creating what did not exist
As Lauren explores sound therapy, breathing, essential oils, and the quiet wisdom of seasonal rituals, she notices something strange: there was nowhere to hold it all with gentleness and understanding. Her therapist’s suggestion to the magazine sent her on a quest, but it ended in disappointment.
“I went looking for a magazine and felt completely isolated,” she says. “Everything was repetitive, prescriptive, or subtly embarrassing if you couldn’t get it.” For someone already suffering from trauma and grief, the pressure to complete treatment felt like another burden. “When I couldn’t find anything that fit where I was, I almost threw in the towel and thought, ‘If I can’t even find a tool, what’s the point?’ But that frustration really turned into a spark.”
Year of the Wild Hart came out of this gap not as a solution but as a companion.
Designed as a twelve-month guidance journal, it weaves healing guidelines with seasonal and lunar rhythms, nervous system practices, and reflective rituals. This is a soft map for internal exploration. Most importantly, it is not dated.
“I hated the feeling behind me,” admits Lauren. “Missing a day becomes self-criticism. So this magazine meets you where you are.” Readers can intuitively move through the pages and respond to what feels most important in any given moment, whether it’s a warning about boundaries, grief, motherhood, or a radical act of relaxation. Some chapters are drawn from Lauren’s own deeply personal work; others are shaped by the stories she encountered along the way, the quiet struggles of women lost, intense, and unanswered questions.
“It’s not about finishing the year ‘healed,'” he says. “It’s about understanding enough to go deeper.” The magazine is an invitation, not an instruction manual.
Image of belonging
The visual identity of the magazine reflects its ethos. The soft and heartfelt images created by Lauren’s sister-in-law depict women of all ages, body types and personalities with a warmth and realism that is deeply welcoming. These are not idealized numbers; they are receptive, gentle and grounded.
“There’s something about them that’s honest,” Lauren says. “Everyone’s welcome.”
This sense of inclusiveness extends to magazine usage. While written from a female perspective, its main themes are universal emotional regulation, self-connection, grief and relaxation. “I can only speak from my own journey,” admits Lauren. “But I hope it opens doors, not closes them.” Her goal is not to define the experience for others, but to create a space where they feel empowered to learn for themselves.
From personal experience to collective space
Since his release, Year of the Wild Hart found its way onto the shelves of major booksellers and into the hands of readers through independent bookstores, often through personal contact rather than a grand marketing strategy. It resonated because it speaks to a need that is rarely addressed.
In response to requests from her community, Lauren has also developed a facilitator’s kit for yoga teachers, retreat leaders, and wellness studios. It addresses a familiar frustration she felt: journaling is presented as a hasty afterthought, without the time, guidance, or safety to turn it into a meaningful practice.
“Writing is one of the most accessible healing tools we have,” she says. “But we’re rarely taught how to stay with it.”
Along with ritual collections, a private newsletter, and a growing community circle, Lauren is quietly laying the groundwork for what’s to come. A second book is in the works, focusing on ongoing integration and maintenance work. “My long-term vision is for Rituals Wild Hart to truly embody its name and be a wild, uncharted space where people rediscover their innate wisdom,” he said. “It’s about creating a sustainable practice, not just checking boxes.” This commitment to authenticity runs deep. “There’s always more to learn,” he says. “But only if it resonates. I don’t create from somewhere else.”
Return of voice
Over the years, Lauren’s focus has been on survival. Now she finds herself learning how to live in a new way and stand by the principles of her work. This means respecting your abilities, building in rest and listening to your body’s messages. “After all, I can’t ask others to make a gentler path for themselves if I haven’t done it myself,” he says.
Perhaps the strong thread running through her journey is slowly and steadily regaining her voice, something she didn’t even realize she had lost until she started back.
“I’m still working on it,” he says with a soft smile. “At my first festival, my voice disappeared within ten minutes.”
It’s an apt metaphor for a woman who has built a brand around space for others and is now learning how to slowly and deliberately take space herself without forcing it. In a culture obsessed with quick fixes and performance improvements, Lauren McCourt’s work offers something quieter and deeper: permission to move at the pace of the nervous system, listen to the body’s whispers, and trust that healing, like nature, occurs in its own time.
Discover: Wildharrituals.com
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