Wayfarer Wellness

It usually happens after someone has worked with me enough.

They learn about my "secret life," and eventually the question comes out:

"How do you make time for everything you do? And how are you not completely burnt out?"

Excellent question.

My "secret life" of touring with Hamilton's finest, Arkells, has been a decade now. Before I tucked myself away in Tiny, I played in a handful of bands and projects, usually gigging 8–10 nights a month.

I was never a full-time musician by definition, but I've been a professional musician since 1997. I dropped out of jazz school... twice... because going on tour seemed like the better education.

Music was my first burnout.

I learned the hardest ways before I learned the hard way. Which is to say, I just kept walking uphill until something eventually made sense.

So... back to the question.

My first joke is always, "I don't have children."

People laugh. It seems to make the math work in their heads.

The real answer is that I don't actually do everything.

I miss emails. I miss deadlines. I forget to text people back. I disappear. My laundry sits too long. Sometimes I don't eat until 4 o'clock.

But I do live my life the way I want to.

Today I woke up at 5 a.m. after about two hours of sleep, drove myself to the airport, flew five hours to Vancouver, caught up on three hours of taxes on the plane, checked into the hotel, realized I hadn't eaten in twelve hours, inhaled some food, played my horn for an hour, jumped back in a van, drove another half hour, did soundcheck...
..and now I'm writing this.

To me, that doesn't actually feel like a lot.

I'm more used to days like this than I am to quiet ones.

I chose this.

The better answer—the one I actually want to talk about—isn't how I fit everything in.

It's how I regulate my nervous system while all of this is happening.

That's a much longer rant for another day.

For now, I'll leave you with this:

Go live your fu***ng life.

Go outside.

Go somewhere.

Go make mistakes.

Go broke if you have to.

Go build the weird thing.

Be stubborn. Be curious. Be real.

Build days that feel like yours.

We don't know how many of them we get.

Hey — I'm Yvo.

Many of you know me, but I still wanna know more amazing humans.

I've never been particularly good at putting myself on the internet, I cherish a low-key life. I'd much rather be having a conversation in person and not feeling awkward promoting myself. But for those who are interested in working with me, learning from my experiences, or following along on the journey, I figured it was time to introduce myself (again).

I've been an RMT since 2009. A musician since birth. I built my band, my zine, and my concert promotion company long before I built my first treatment room in 2014.

Since then, I've opened clinics, expanded clinics, survived a pandemic business, lost a clinic to a fire, moved two hours north, played music in front of thousands of people, lost my mom recently, and found myself asking more than once:

"What the heck am I doing?"

The answer always seems to be the same.

Keep going.

Stay curious.

Figure it out.

Take care of people.

Be kinder to my own wounds.

Build the things you wish existed.

Wayfarer isn't really a new business. It's the culmination of everything I've learned over the last 17 years about healthcare, community, burnout, resilience, and what it means to belong somewhere.

It's a city-and-country nervous system mash-up. Big community energy paired with the space to slow down, breathe deeper, and actually thrive.

It's the ambitious part of me and the part that wants to chill on the beach.

The practitioner, the teacher, the musician, the organizer, and the human who's still figuring it all out.

If you've been part of this journey at any point—whether you've shared a treatment room, learned beside me, trusted me with your care, played a show with me, hired me, worked alongside me, or simply cheered me on from afar—thank you.

I genuinely wouldn't be here without you.

So come along and watch what happens when you keep trying to make the world a little softer.

And if you want to work with me, in Toronto or Tiny, reach out and say 'hey'.

🌵💛

When I was looking for a name for this clinic, I wasn't looking for something traditional.

I was looking for something true to me.

The word wayfarer describes a person on a journey—someone adaptable, curious, resilient, and willing to explore new paths while staying grounded in their values.

The more I sat with it, the more I realized that's what I've been doing my entire life.

Building businesses. Starting over. Recovering from burnout. Moving from the city to a small town. Losing things I thought would last forever. Finding new dreams where old ones ended.

And every day, I meet people doing the same thing.
People navigating pain. Stress. Grief. Major life changes. New beginnings.

People trying to find their way.
That's what Wayfarer is really about.

Not arriving.
Not perfection.

Just continuing the journey with a little more support, a little more community, and a little more softness than before.

Welcome to Wayfarer Wellness
✨ Making the world a little softer, one act of care at a time.

What part of your journey are you navigating right now? I'll meet you there.

We don't tolerate hate, and actively celebrate the spectrum of individuality!

Wayfarer is a space for everyone, and we're committed to making sure you feel that sense of belonging every day of the year—not just during Pride Month.

You are welcome here. 🌈✨

✨ If you're my kinda weird, let's chat✨

I'm looking for a handful of practitioners, teachers, facilitators, and community builders who want to practice in a space that's anything but ordinary.
Wayfarer wasn't designed to be a beige wellness clinic. The concept is neuroaesthetics: design + neuroscience = the ultimate brain hijack to regulate yourself and others in beauty spaces.

Wayfarer is a thoughtfully curated environment inspired by art, music, creativity, and human connection.

The spaces are rich with colour, texture, vintage, and personality—because I believe the environments we spend time in matter.

Available opportunities include:

✨ Private treatment Room Rentals or 70% Split (with Cap). I'm introducing tiered treatment rates for all levels of experience and to help break down financial barriers to care.

• Massage Therapists
• Osteopaths
• Acupuncturists
• Chiropractors
• Psychotherapists
• Naturopaths
• Manual Therapists
• Wellness Practitioners

✨ Venue and movement studio rentals for:

• Yoga classes
• Sound baths
• Breathwork experiences
• Workshops/Courses
• Continuing education
• Community gatherings
• Creative events
• Guided Meditation
• Group wellness offerings

If you're sharing treatment room space with me, you also get a 25% reduction on the movement venue rates.

The practitioners who will feel most at home here are curious, creative, and deeply invested in their craft. They're the people who understand that atmosphere matters. That professionalism, treatment etiquette, and allyship for all marginalized communities is at the core of your values.

That healing, learning, movement, and connection deserve settings that support the experience.
Wayfarer is being built for people who care about what they do, who are always learning, and who want to be part of a community of like-minded professionals while maintaining the freedom to practice in their own way.

If you're looking for a professional home that's inspiring anwelcoming, and the furniture reminds you of your grandparents' house in the late 70s/80s, I'd love to hear from you!

Let's make the world a little softer together 🌵💛

I'm shooting for a mid-July kick-off, but life is weird!

Mary Ann Moir—my sweet, kind mum—passed away on April 21st from glioblastoma. Watching her wilt from the vibrancy she once exuded, and supporting her transition from this life to whatever comes next, has been exhausting and heartbreaking.

I'm a tough person, tough enough to step back and practice what I teach: our bodies will keep going until they're forced into illness or burnout. So I believe in stepping back to respect that fine line between balance and sabotage. I put my own oxygen mask on first, my friends.

Many things in my life are amazing right now, but losing my mum is something I knew I needed to properly mourn. I knew I'd have to find my own peace—and take time away from creating peace for all of you. I can't show up to your appointments and have you try to take care of me. When I come back to work, I will genuinely be able to say "I'm good, thank you for asking" and mean it.

Your session is about you, and it's my code to make sure you always get my best care.

Thank you again for all the love, I will see sooner than later ❤️