This isn't really a résumé either.

I grew up hearing from my mom, "You can do anything a boy can do."

Her perspective became mine.

I learned to be capable. Independent. Strong. Resourceful. I could throw a football, repair plumbing, mow the lawn, fix cars, create a family, raise children, build businesses, design beautiful things, and figure out what needed to be done.

Those parts of me served me well.

But somewhere along the way, I also learned to turn the volume down on other parts of myself.

Not because those parts disappeared.

They waited quietly. Patiently. Whispering at first.

And eventually, they weren't willing to wait quietly anymore. They were shouting now.

I've been intuitive for as long as I can remember.

In 2001, channeled vocal frequencies began moving through me in a unique way. What I now sometimes call light language, frequency, or transmissions started as speaking in tongues.

For years, after I left organized religion, I shut it down. Without the framework, I didn't fully understand what was happening.

And somewhere in all of that, I stopped needing to perfectly explain the mystery in order to honor what I was experiencing.

Today, frequency is woven throughout my work, but I don't believe it's something magical that belongs only to certain people.

My role isn't to tell you what your experience means.

One of the things I love most about shamanic practice is its capacity for both/and.

I don't believe we're here to transcend our humanity.

I feel we're here to experience all of it.

That understanding eventually led me to Shamanic Breathwork®. In 2025, I became a certified Shamanic Breathwork® Facilitator through Venus Rising Association for Transformation, training in the lineage of Linda Star Wolf, Ph.D. I am also an ordained Shamanic Minister.

The training mattered deeply to me.

But credential are not the heart of my work.

The heart of my work is embodied presence in BEing human.

I don't believe I have the answers to your life.

And I don't believe inner healing requires handing your authority over to someone else.

Sometimes we simply need to stop doing all the things and find the space where we can hear ourselves again.

That's what I love creating.

Spaces where you don't have to perform being healed, evolved, spiritual, positive, put together, or anything else.

You can bring your:

All of you gets to come.

Because I am far less interested in helping you become some perfected version of yourself than I am in helping you remember how to BE more fully yourself.

I just don't think sacred has to mean solemn.

I believe we can honor grief without building a house inside it.

We can do deep work without making ourselves a perpetual project.

We can be spiritual without abandoning our bodies.

We can hold immense reverence for the mystery and still laugh at the absolute absurdity of being human.

Maybe that's what decades of doing this have taught me most:

You don't have to leave your humanity behind to embody the sacred.

The sacred is always with you supporting your embodiment of BEing fully human.

I became a mother at 20. I eventually raised four children, homeschooled, married, developed multiple businesses, divorced, created/operated two wedding venues, came back together with my high school love, devoted myself to family, reinvented myself more than once, loved deeply, grieved deeply, questioned almost everything, and kept finding myself circling back to the same invitation:

Come back to yourself my love.

Each time I thought I had arrived, life would show me another layer.

For a while, I looked for answers in organized religion. I wanted a framework for what I was experiencing spiritually and intuitively.

Instead, I often found myself trying to fit experiences that felt expansive into containers that felt too small for them.

Eventually, I stopped trying to make my spirituality fit inside someone else's definition of what the sacred was supposed to look like.

I became more interested in fully experiencing it.

That's the place I meet you from.

Not from a pedestal.

Not from the other side of some imaginary finish line.

Human to human.

You bring your wisdom.

I'll bring mine.

And we'll listen for what wants to be heard.