Dr. Erica Leone of Scottsdale on Life, Lessons & Legacy

Dr. Erica Leone shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Erica, it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: Are you walking a path—or wandering?
For a long time, I thought I was wandering. Stumbling through pain, confusion, collapse. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt linear. And yet—something deeper was always pulling me forward.

Now I see: I was never lost. I was being led. Initiated. Remembered.

The path doesn’t always look like a straight line. Sometimes it’s a spiral. Sometimes it’s a labyrinth. Sometimes it burns everything down before it shows you the map.

But there is a path. It lives beneath the surface of your doubt, beneath the noise of expectation, beneath the trauma you’ve mistaken for your identity.

So if you’re asking, “Am I walking a path—or just wandering?”

I’ll say this: Wandering becomes the path when you start listening to what’s underneath your feet. And when you walk in trust, even your detours become sacred.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
At Beyond the Veil, our mission is to promote holistic healing and well-being through the practice of spiritual healing modalities. We are dedicated to providing accessible healing services and educational resources that empower individuals on their personal journeys toward self-discovery and inner peace. By fostering a compassionate community, we aim to create transformative experiences that nurture the mind, body, and spirit, while encouraging connections that enhance overall wellness. Our commitment is to honor each person’s unique path and support them in unlocking their full potential.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
The part of me that thought I had to carry it all alone. The version of me that equated strength with silence and who believed that holding space for others meant abandoning my own needs, my own grief, my own softness. That identity served me once. It got me through the fire. It helped me survive when everything was collapsing. But survival and service are not the same thing. And the path I walk now requires a deeper kind of surrender.

I’ve had to release the part of me that was addicted to effort. To control. To over-explaining my purpose just to be palatable. I’ve even had to grieve the part of me that over-identifies with the pain—because even that, even the sacred wound, can become a mask if we cling to it too long.

Now, I’m reclaiming ease. I’m allowing myself to be held, not just hold. To rest without guilt. To lead without armor. To channel without burning out. The part of me that served through sacrifice has done her job. Now I serve through presence, not depletion. Now, I choose to be a vessel and a woman who belongs to herself.

When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
It wasn’t one moment—it was a series of quiet, breaking points. There came a time when hiding my pain became heavier than the pain itself. I realized I was shape-shifting to be digestible, dimming myself so I wouldn’t make others uncomfortable. But the truth was screaming in my bones. I couldn’t keep compartmentalizing what had shaped me.

My pain wasn’t weakness. It was wisdom. It was memory. It was medicine.

I stopped hiding when I finally understood that my pain wasn’t in the way of my purpose—it was the path to it. Not because I wanted to lead from my wounds, but because I had walked through them, alchemized them, and could now offer something real.

Pain became power the moment I stopped apologizing for being human. It became power when I turned toward it, listened to it, and let it remake me. And now, everything I do: every session, every retreat, every transmission is born from that reclamation.

This isn’t power that dominates. It’s power that heals. And I don’t perform it—I embody it.

I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. How do you differentiate between fads and real foundational shifts?
Fads are loud. Foundational shifts are quiet. We’re in a time when spirituality is being packaged and sold at high speed, and it’s easy to confuse visibility with depth. But the truth is, real healing isn’t trendy. It doesn’t need hashtags. It asks for your full body yes, your time, your grief, your devotion.

A fad wants your attention—it moves fast, feels exciting, even seductive. It says, “This is the next big thing,” and pushes you to act before you’ve even asked your body if it feels true.

But real transformation? It’s slower. Quieter. It moves through your system like a slow wave—not to impress, but to integrate. It doesn’t ask for performance. It asks for presence.

I’ve learned to feel the difference in my body. If something feels urgent, like I need to rush or prove myself, I pause.
But if something keeps echoing in the stillness, if it finds me in the moments between—when I’m not looking for it—that’s how I know it’s real.

Foundational shifts change how you move through life. They don’t give you flashy tools—they rearrange your inner landscape. They’re not just ideas; they’re invitations. And they stay with you long after the hype fades. So when I’m unsure, I always come back to this: “Is this returning me to myself—or taking me further away?” That question never fails.

Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If immortality were real, what would you build?
If I had forever, I wouldn’t build an empire. I’d build a sanctuary that remembers.

I would devote my eternity to restoring the sacred—to rebuilding temples of healing, not of stone, but of presence. Places where people could return to their essence, over and over, without fear of being judged, rushed, or erased.

I’d weave ancestral altars into the earth, create spaces where grief is not pathologized but witnessed, where initiations are honored, and where every soul has the time it needs to come home.

I wouldn’t chase progress—I’d deepen roots. I’d build schools that teach intuition like math, prayer like poetry. I’d protect the old ways and make space for the new ones to rise organically, through lived experience and divine timing. I would build a world that doesn’t forget itself. Where no one has to break to be seen. Where healing isn’t a luxury, but a birthright.

And honestly—I already am.

Even with this brief, mortal moment, I’m building what I would still be proud to tend a thousand years from now.
A center that lives beyond my name. A ripple of remembrance. A veil pulled back—so others can see themselves again.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.btvhealing.org
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