My story

After the sudden loss of my husband, Dan, in June 2023, everything changed. I returned to the U.S. in a haze of heartbreak and disbelief — grieving not only Dan, but the life we had built, the future I imagined, and the version of myself that had been shaped by love and belonging.

In the aftermath, my relationship with alcohol continued to unravel (though this was not a new struggle). I spiraled. I numbed. And then, I chose something else.
With the support of my family, I entered a 30-day holistic recovery program — where, for the first time, I was introduced to the healing power of psychedelic medicine in a ceremonial group setting. That moment opened a doorway I have been walking through ever since.

What followed was not just recovery, but a return to self. I began training at the Center for Medicinal Mindfulness in Boulder, Colorado, and later completed training at Innate Path, a somatic, trauma-informed model focused on low-dose psycholytic work. I deepened into grief work, attachment repair, and body-based integration. I also chose to remain alcohol-free — not as a rule, but as a commitment to clarity, presence, and emotional truth.

Grief continues to be my greatest teacher. It taught me how to stay. How to soften. How to meet my body exactly where it is, in each moment. How to stop reaching for solutions and start listening to what hurts. And it is from this place — a place of love, loss, and lived experience — that I now support others.

Medicine has been a profound catalyst in my own healing, opening pathways I could not access through talk alone. I am deeply medicine-informed — trained to support low-dose psycholytic work, ceremonial integration, and expanded states — and I love walking with those who feel called to explore these paths with care and intention.

At the same time, I am equally devoted to the work that happens without substances — in sober space, in grief circles, in community. There is so much healing available through presence, relationship, and truth-telling, especially when held inside a steady, loving container. We do not always need altered states. Sometimes what we need most is to be witnessed, just as we are.

Whether you are grieving, in recovery, exploring plant medicine, or simply longing to reconnect with yourself — you are welcome here. You do not need to be in crisis to begin this work. You only need to be willing to show up with whatever is real.

We’re a team over here — walking with grief, with love, and with each other.
You are welcome to join us, whenever you are ready.

With love,
Avery Collura
Grief Coach | Somatic Practitioner | Medicine-Informed Guide

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My work is informed by a combination of professional training, community involvement, and a deep commitment to creating safe, transformative spaces for healing and growth.

Certifications & Training

Professional Affiliations

Professional Expertise

Prior to my work in psychedelic healing, I spent over a decade as a software development project manager in the healthcare technology space. I thrived at leading complex, multi-disciplinary teams, orchestrating large-scale projects, and navigating the intricacies of change management. My role required precision, adaptability, and the ability to hold space for diverse perspectives while driving innovative solutions forward.

These same skills now enrich my work in the healing space. Leading a project is not unlike guiding a healing journey: both require collaboration, trust, and a clear vision of desired outcomes. My experience managing change equips me to support clients as they navigate the complexities of personal transformation. The adaptability I honed in the corporate world enables me to meet each individual where they are, tailoring the process to their unique needs. At its core, my work—whether managing a team or facilitating a psychedelic journey—has always been about creating environments where growth and healing can thrive.

Qualifications & Involvement

The Jellyfish

I was not on medicine that night.

But the ceremony was just as real. The breathwork. The music. The silence between the drums. The way the room held everything – grief, fear, anticipation, surrender.

And me, lying there inside all of it. So uncomfortable.

In that moment, all I could feel was resistance.

My body knew tension better than it knew release. I felt it in the weight on my chest, the air caught in my throat, the panic rising:

What if this feeling never passes?
What if I am stuck here?

And then I let myself settle into a feeling I surrender into often now:

“I guess this is me now.”

Not as giving up, but as a kind of surrender.
What happens when I offer full acceptance to something I desperately do not want to accept?

That is when she arrived.

A jellyfish.

Floating in from the left, just between my ribs and my forearm. Slow. Deliberate. Unbothered by the currents around her. She moved without force. Without fight. Without resistance. Always forward.

And somehow, my body started to follow.

My breath matched her rhythm.
My muscles loosened.
The stuckness shifted, even if only slightly.

And I understood something in a way my body believed:

Healing is not about pushing through. It is not about force. It is about trust.
Letting the current take you where you need to go.
Letting the grief be there without needing to fix it.
Letting yourself be carried when you are too tired to swim.

The jellyfish became my guide, my symbol, my permission to surrender.

She still shows up.
When I think I cannot keep going.
When it feels like too much.
When I forget that I have already survived the impossible.

She is my reminder:
If I can do this, I can do anything.

At Jellyfish Journeywork, this is the heart of what we practice.
We do not force healing.
We move with it.
We let it unfold in its own time, in its own way.

And when it feels like too much, we remember:
We are a team over here. You are not alone.

Start Your Journey