Ms. Lan Thanh

Transformational Coach / Founder of Sentuary / Author of Life of a Lotus / Creator of The Lotus Way

08/04/2026

✨ We made it to the Top 15!

When I entered this competition, it was never just about walking a runway.

It was about creating more visibility for a mission that is deeply personal to me: helping women reclaim their health, healing, and sense of self after life’s hardest moments.

Every vote has been a reminder that none of us accomplish our dreams alone. I’m incredibly grateful for every person who has taken a moment out of their day to support me.

The next round is here, and I need to finish in the Top 10 to continue.

If my story, my work, or my upcoming memoir has ever inspired you, I’d be so honored if you could continue voting for me each day through Friday, August 7 at 9 PM ET.

Your support is helping open doors that will allow me to reach more women with this message.

Thank you for believing in me. ❤️

07/31/2026

We did it! ✨ Because of your love, encouragement, and daily votes, I officially made it into the Top 20 of the Next Runway Star competition.

I’m so grateful. Every vote has reminded me what can happen when women come together and direct our energy toward one purpose.

Now the next round begins, and I would be honored to have your continued support by voting once a day.

Winning would allow me to expand the work I’m already doing by creating free wellness and empowerment programs for women. It would also give me a larger platform to share my memoir and bring its message of healing and resilience to more women.

Thank you for believing in me and in this mission. Let’s keep the magic going. ❤️

Link to vote in my bio✨

06/30/2026

Day one at the biohacking conference.

For years I pushed through. I ignored what I felt until something broke. Cancer ended that. Now when something is good for me, I want to feel it in my body, not just believe it in my head.

A few things I tried and loved:

The hydrogen therapy. I want one in my home, for me and for those who gather at Sentuary.

The sound blanket, sound moving through me like warm water.

The LED helmet, red light wrapped around my head, quieting the static.

The Backbridge, my spine opening up after years of holding everything.

And GutID. I already sent my samples in. After months of bloating and these menopause shifts, I am done guessing what my body needs.

This is what healing looks like now. Curious. Listening. Choosing me.

Stay tuned for Day 2

*Thank you .shop for inviting me to .world

06/20/2026

Today is World Refugee Day.

This is me and my siblings, reunited in the Philippines in 1985. I was seven years old. I don’t remember this day at all.
Before this, I was in Japan, one more country in a childhood spent moving through them. War had scattered all of us. My father was taken by the Viet Cong three months after I was born. For years we kids were spread across borders, and then this, all of us in one frame again. I lost most of those years. What’s left comes in bits and pieces, never a whole day like this one.

So I spent years believing being good was my personality. It was survival. The girl in this photo had already learned to keep moving and not look back.

I’m telling her story now, even the parts she doesn’t remember. Especially those.

What the Mud Made Me, out this August.

06/18/2026

I had never said this out loud until someone asked me directly.

Frances A. Chiu, a writing coach and editor, interviewed me about my memoir, What the Mud Made Me, out this August. Her first question was about survival. Somewhere in the answer I heard myself say the thing I had spent decades not saying. I survived cancer and still could not choose myself.

If you were taught to be a good girl too, the kind one, the quiet one, this is for you.

Comment MUD below and I’ll send the full interview straight to your messages

06/17/2026

Two years ago, Ella and I sat in the audience at our first Craft&Release. She leaned over and asked if I’d ever submit my story.

I told her: Watch. One day Mommy’s going to be on that stage.

Last year I submitted. I didn’t get selected. I tried again this year.
Saturday I stood under the red light and told the story I’d been most afraid to say out loud, the one that lived in a drawer for years. And Ella was in the front row, exactly where she’d been sitting when I made her that promise.

I found her face before I opened my mouth. That was the whole reason I could.

This is the first story I’ve ever shared from my memoir, out this August. The recording from that night is the closest thing to being in the room.

Comment FEAR and I’ll send it to you.

06/08/2026

Last year I submitted a story. It didn’t get selected. I was disappointed, but I kept writing, and this year I finished my memoir.

Craft&Release became our thing. Mine and Ella’s. A mother-daughter date we’d look forward to, sitting side by side watching people get brave on that stage.

One night she looked at me and said, “Mommy, you should submit your stories.” And I said, “You’re right. Watch. One day you’re gonna see Mommy up there.”

The theme this year was fear. I’d just spent months writing my way through mine. So I submitted again, scared and all.

Then, I got this email.

She gets to see it now. She gets to know that the thing you want doesn’t always come the first time, and that’s not a reason to stop. You keep going.

Thank you, , for this stage, and for building a place where I get to come back and try again.

05/02/2026

I have a professional book cover designer, but I was curious about the creative process, so I decided to play with AI.

What do you like better, option A (mustard) or B (green) or C (neither)?

04/23/2026

Beautiful day. Beautiful lesson.

I’m not going to lie, the old me would’ve had something to say after hitting that pavement. But today I got up, dusted off, and left her with something to think about instead.

Accidents happen. What matters is how you show up after.

Has a moment ever caught you off guard and surprised you with your own reaction?

Tell me below.

04/11/2026

I filmed this thinking it was going to be a gratitude post.

Me and Ella, walking up a mountain, laughing, present, alive in a way I don’t always let myself be. I was recording myself saying how grateful I was. How good it felt to just stop and show up for her.

Then she and her friends decided to take a different trail.

I said yes. I told them I’d meet them on the other side.
Three hours later it was dark. Search and rescue were on that mountain with flashlights looking for my daughter.
The trail they took had been officially closed for a year. No visible sign. No barrier. It just looked like a path you could walk. So they walked it.
Further and further in until the light ran out and they had no choice but to call for help.

They were safe. Not a scratch.
But I stood at that trailhead in the pitch black thinking about what the officer said.
“That trail’s been closed for a long time.”

It looked like a path. It felt like a path. Everyone before them had probably walked some version of it.

I’m not a bad mother for saying yes.

She’s not a bad kid for walking it.

We just didn’t know it was closed.

Nobody told us. It looked like the way through.

Sound familiar?
Tell me one thing you kept walking toward because it looked like it was supposed to be there for you.

Address

Brooklyn, NY
11222

Website

http://www.lanthanh.com/

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Ms. Lan Thanh posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Business

Send a message to Ms. Lan Thanh:

Want your business to be the top-listed Gym/sports Facility in Brooklyn?