They Say Every Sales Letter Needs a Headline

One that hooks you, grabs you, makes you keep reading.
That might be true — hell, it’s probably true — but this letter doesn’t have one.

There’s no “special offer just for you,”
no fake “I really wanna help you” vibe,
no promise to make you rich,
and no shiny photos of paradise.

You and I? We don’t know each other.
So I’m gonna talk to you with respect.
The kind of respect you give someone you actually get along with — someone you could share a good, honest dance with.

And yeah, you might notice a few typos here and there.
If that bothers you, that’s your problem, not mine.
If it doesn’t, cool — then we’re fine.

This letter tells a real story.
About a woman who came to the jungle looking for change.

I showed her my world — the jungle, the fire, the fear, the play, the wildness.
And in the middle of all that… the dance.

If you get this story — even if you’re not looking for a transformation or some “experience” — it’ll probably shake something in you.
But first, I need to set the stage.

See, there are two types of dancers:
those who dance to live, and everyone else.

The ones who dance to live — they transform their lives through movement.
They grow, evolve, break patterns.
And it’s only worth being one of them.

Now, I don’t know if I could always spot the difference,
but here’s an example:

A “catalog dancer,” the Instagram kind,
if she wanted to sell a retreat, she’d say something like:
“Join our jungle dance retreat! Fun, good vibes, music, and connection in the Riviera Maya!”

Sounds nice, right?
All polished. All safe.

But a real dancer would say:
“We’re gonna dance on wet dirt that slips under your feet, surrounded by fire that licks your ankles, while the jungle wind cuts your skin and the mud swallows you whole.”

Too much for the people with rainbow morals.
You know what I mean.

Most people, before going to a dance retreat or congress, overthink everything.
They check the lineup, the teachers, the schedule.
They research, watch boring-ass videos like:
“How to Survive a Jungle Retreat” or “10 Steps to Feel Free Dancing.”

That’s probably one of the dumbest things you could do before a real experience.

Real experiences are lived.
Feeling the fire and the ocean on your skin while you dance in the jungle,
the adrenaline of an ice bath that steals your breath,
the silence of a cenote where darkness wraps around you like you’re the only soul left alive —
that’s what moves people.

It doesn’t “transform” you…
but it shakes the ground you stand on.

Most transformation gurus?
They’re like sleeping pills.
“12 colorful dance steps to awaken your feminine energy.”
“This isn’t for you if your mom left you at a gas station and you’re not ready to leave your comfort zone.”

Yeah, sure.

So let’s be real:
If you got here and you’ve never danced until you felt your life change —
you probably shouldn’t book this experience.
Not yet.

You can do whatever you want with this info,
but if you want this to work, there’s one thing you need to understand:
people don’t change because of what they hear.
They change because of what they feel.

That’s what makes the jungle, the fire, the music, and the dance actually transform you.
Key word: feel.

No debate there.

It’s not about the destination,
or the fancy hotel you sleep in.
It’s about how deep you live it. How much you surrender.

Listen —
it’s way more important to look good than to be good.

Before you get all offended and pitch a tent in front of my house,
let me explain:

If you’re a skilled dancer but can’t look like one,
you’re screwed.

If you’re a skilled dancer and look like one,
you make money.
All good.

If you’re not skilled and don’t look it,
you’d better start praying.

If you’re not skilled but look like you are —
you’re either a scammer, a genius, or both.

Looking competent is essential.
Being competent is ideal.
But you can survive without being good —
not without looking good.

And since I don’t know what you ask for when you work with someone,
I’ll tell you what I ask for.

Two things.

First, I like people with balls.
And yeah, that goes for men and women —
in case some word police officer’s on duty tonight.

I work with people who believe in what they do and know their craft.
Not with those who whine in the corners because “it’s too hard,” “too expensive,” “I don’t have time,” or any of that daycare-level bullshit.

This is dance and life, not a kindergarten.
You need guts.
And a mind of your own — not one on loan.

Second, I need you to get this story.
The one I told you at the start — the woman who came to the jungle looking for a change.

When I was a kid, I met a girl — beautiful girl.
Wait, don’t lose me — this isn’t a love story.
I’m just setting the scene.

She was my childhood crush. You know, sweaty palms, silly giggles, innocent flirting.
You’ve been there, right?

Years later, out of nowhere, she reached out to me.
She’d seen the jungle, the fire, the dancing…
and something about it called her.

She was at a point in her life where she needed a big, urgent shift.
She’d tried everything — therapy, retreats, “self-help” crap.
She said, “I need something different.”

So I told her:
“What if you move your body, your soul, your life?”

“How?” she asked.

“Come to the jungle.”

So she did.

Let’s just say she arrived broken —
but wearing that armor women wear when they’ve survived too much.
The “I got this” face. The “I can do everything” energy.

I showed her my world —
the breathing jungle,
the fire that burns and transforms,
the wild play,
the darkness of the cenotes,
the fear that makes you feel alive.

And in the middle of all that —
the dance.

At first, she couldn’t care less.
It was just a side thing — fun, sure, but not her thing.

Still, she kept coming back.
Every year. Sometimes twice.

She came looking for transformation through rituals,
through the extreme,
through my world.
But not through dance.

Then one day, I don’t even know how — she started dancing.
Awkward at first.
Then with more body. More energy. More life.

Each class shifted something in her.
Every song, every touch, every spin, every surrender — changed her.

Her relationship changed.
Her walk changed.
Her eyes, her energy, her way of feeling — changed.

Dance taught her something no ceremony, no retreat, no “transformational experience” ever could:
transformation isn’t out there.
It’s in how you move through the chaos.

And that’s the real lesson.

There are two takeaways here:
one from her, and one from me.

Hers:
Be more empathetic.
Not in words — in presence.

Get out of your head.
Actually see what the other person feels.
And to do that, you’ve gotta feel what’s happening inside you.

She came to the jungle broken, hungry for connection — for something real that didn’t come in a “self-help” bottle.

I showed her the fire, the fear, the game, the darkness… and the dance.

But at first, she didn’t care about the dance.
She cared more about the ceremonies, the temazcales, the extremes.
She wanted to face everything — except herself.

That’s the truth:
not getting out of your head is stupid.
It kills connection.
It kills life.
It kills the energy of the group.

Your reasons don’t matter that much.
Theirs do.

Why they dance.
Why they travel.
Why they need to lose control for one weekend just to feel something real again.

Dance is connection.

And my lesson?
The same one the jungle taught me:

Authority isn’t argued. It’s felt.

Fire doesn’t negotiate.
Darkness doesn’t ask if you’re ready.
It just shows you who the fuck you are.

In my world, that’s not up for debate.
I don’t do emotional discounts.
I don’t sell catalog experiences.

You either surrender… or don’t come.

When you lead a group —
when you invite someone to walk through fire with you —
you make it damn clear: you’re not an instructor.
You’re a guide. A leader. A mirror.

People don’t buy classes, retreats, or activities.
They buy presence.
Leadership.
Safety.

So if you decide to come, let’s be clear —
I’m gonna push you to your limits.
I’ll watch you, read you, challenge you to look at yourself without filters.

And if all you want is a cute photo for Instagram —
don’t count on me.

Because ordinary people chase experiences.
But women who truly want to change —
they follow the ones who know how to light the fire… and keep it burning.

And leaders?
They’re not desperate.
They don’t chase clients.

So you need to know — I’m not the kind of guide you can “book,”
see for fifteen minutes a month,
and then ignore.

That’s not how this works.

You’ll listen.
And if you change something about how you show up or what we agreed on — you’ll tell me.

Maybe you think I talk like this because I “create experiences.”
But real experiences — real ones — are the only thing that can actually transform you.
Not just give you a pretty memory for social media.

Whether you pick me or someone else — pick someone great.
Because otherwise, you’re leaving too much of yourself behind.

And yeah, it’s your journey —
but my work and my name depend on real results.

If you’re hiring a professional to walk beside you through something that deep —
you’d better respect their craft.

If not — do it yourself.

If I hire a guy to build me a cabin in the jungle,
I don’t tell him how to hammer each nail.
I might live in it —
but he’s the one who knows how to build.

So if you hire a guide — trust him.
Or don’t hire him at all.

Now, you might think I sound arrogant.
Maybe I am — a little.

But I’m also a decent person.
I listen deeply.
I care.

But yeah — I’ve got a healthy obsession, and zero tolerance for bullshit.
I don’t waste time.

So you need to know:
if you hire me, my services aren’t cheap.
And you’ll do what I say.

Working with me will only get more expensive,
harder to access,
and soon — impossible.

Also, to book your spot, you’ll need to pay 25% up front.
Then we’ll have a call,
and right after — before we even start — you’ll pay the rest.

I don’t reserve a single spot without getting paid.
Never. For anyone.

And when I hire a professional, I pay upfront. No problem.

If you sell something and live it with the same fire I ask for here —
you won’t have to chase clients either.
You won’t worry about payments.
You’ll attract people who get it.

Some people understand this.
Some don’t.
No need to argue.

But it’s not negotiable.
I only work with those who understand.

That said,
if you want more info, fill out the form below.

I’ll reach out —
even if I’m not sure I want you to come.

Have a great day.
Leonardo Trujillo & Karla Vasconez