Our Story
Before Wild Soul,
there was just me.
Long before there were jars, labels and market stalls, there were muddy boots, dirt bikes, horses, cattle and sheep.
I spent years working on the land — long days, hard work, unpredictable animals and usually more dirt on me than anywhere else.
I was a jillaroo, and later managed and oversaw properties. I worked cattle from horseback, handled sheep, rode bikes through paddocks and learned pretty quickly that plans rarely survive contact with livestock.
It wasn't glamorous. It was often bloody exhausting.
And I loved it.
I didn't know it then, but a lot of what would eventually become Wild Soul started there.
Not the products. The feeling.
Then life got bigger
Different jobs.
Different versions of me.
There were different jobs, different homes and more than a few different versions of me.
There was marriage, motherhood, divorce, rebuilding, falling in love again, another marriage and — many years after I thought the baby chapter of my life was firmly closed — another beautiful little boy.
I moved from agriculture into civil construction and operations. Life changed direction more than once. Some of it was planned. Plenty of it wasn't.
There were good years, hard years, fresh starts and the kind of chapters you don't realise are changing you until you look back at them later.
And somewhere along the way, I became very good at keeping things running.
Work needed something? Sorted.
Kids needed something? Sorted.
House needed something? Sorted.
And somewhere amongst all of that, I became very good at putting myself somewhere near the bottom of the list.
It just happens quietly.
The beginning
Wild Soul didn't begin
with a business plan.
There wasn't some grand moment where I decided I was going to create a brand.
It started much smaller than that. Making things. Experimenting. Learning. Finding ingredients I loved. Changing recipes. Making another batch because the first one wasn't quite right.
And occasionally making something that went spectacularly wrong.
Slowly, something started taking shape.
I wanted to make products that could turn an ordinary moment into a little bit of time that belonged to you.
A scrub in the shower. A soak after a long week. Oil at the end of the day. A balm rubbed into tired hands, feet and bodies that have worked bloody hard.
Sometimes you just need five bloody minutes.
Don't wait for tomorrow
Take the
five minutes.
For years, I was going to do things tomorrow. Sit down tomorrow. Read that book tomorrow. Take some time for myself tomorrow.
But tomorrow is always tomorrow. And eventually you realise tomorrow never bloody comes.
So take the five minutes today.
Hide in the bathroom with a scrub if that's the only place you can get some peace. Take the long shower. Use the good stuff instead of saving it. Keep the recovery balm in the ute, the car, your work bag or the caravan.
And this isn't just for mums. It's for mums and dads. Tradies and office workers. Travellers and homebodies. Carers and shift workers. People working on the land. People raising families and people who never wanted one.
You don't need to reach breaking point first.
You don't need to earn it.
That became Wild Soul
Rugged.
Weathered.
A little wild.
Wild Soul draws inspiration from two landscapes that feel deeply familiar to me — the rugged, misty Highlands of Scotland and the wild, sun-warmed Australian bush.
Two very different places, but both beautiful without trying too hard.
That became the heart of what I wanted Wild Soul to be.
Small-batch body care, made by hand and created to actually be used.
Not lined up perfectly on a bathroom shelf. Not saved for a special occasion. Not waiting for the magical day when the washing is done, work is quiet, nobody needs anything and you've somehow got three uninterrupted hours to yourself.
Because apparently that day is never bloody coming.
Use it. Get your fingers in it. Throw the balm in the ute. Take the soak away in the caravan. Leave the scrub in the shower. Let the jar get messy.
That's what it's there for.
Built for the work. Made for the recovery.
These days there might be a laptop where the dirt bike used to be, and I'm just as likely to be making a batch of balm as working cattle.
But give me a paddock, an animal to cuddle, a garden to disappear into or something I can make with my hands and...
there she bloody is.
Still learning
It took me
40 bloody years.
Forty years to understand that I don't need to become one final, polished version of myself.
And I'm still learning. Still changing. Still getting things wrong. Still figuring out what I want the next chapter to look like.
There are parts of the girl I used to be that I want back. There are parts I'm quite happy to leave behind. And there are parts of the woman I'm becoming that I haven't even met yet.
Wild Soul wasn't born because I finally had everything figured out.
It was born when I realised I didn't have to.
Maybe that's what being a wild soul really means.
Not having it all together. Not becoming some perfect version of yourself.
Just remembering that underneath all the roles, responsibilities, work, noise and expectations...
you're still in there too.
Take the five minutes.
Be kind to yourself.
If something I've made gives you even those five minutes — if you stop, breathe and remember yourself for a moment — then this little wild thing I've built is doing exactly what it was meant to do.
There's still a wild soul in there.
— Jax
Founder & Maker, Wild Soul