My Story

I work with people who care deeply.

Bodies who feel it all. 

I’ve been deeply concerned for the planet and it’s inhabitants since about fourth grade. 

This was 1985. How did I even find out?

Besides David Suzuki, my childhood hero, very few people wanted to talk about this stuff back then. My 8 year old concern about famine, nuclear war and the greenhouse effect was considered very strange. Certainly not to be brought up at the dinner table.

So I held it in. My fear. My rage. My shock.

It felt like a lot. 

Maybe this is why, after high school, I ran away to Cortes, a remote island off the rainforest coast of British Columbia. 

Laying alone on the forest floor, I had my first glimpses of embodiment.

A feeling of peace. Safety. Subtle wordless glee. 

At times I thought I should stay on the island forever. Or go live in a monastery. 

Instead I came back to civilization. Ever since, I’ve been drawn to healing. Particularly healing in relationship, with other people and with the earth. 

For as long as I can remember I’ve been trying to figure out how to live in the modern world in a body that wasn’t built for it, on a planet that needs us to plug back in to her care.

I believe embodied resilience can foster creativity which, in turn, can help us to imagine a better world for the next generation. And also be there for the fullness of our present experience. 

I identify loosely as sensitive and empathic. As a social creature who needs ample alone time. And no stranger to the chka-chka-chka of busy thoughts in a creative mind.

This is what I’ve conceded. If I’m going to keep showing up in my life I’m going to need a lot of different kinds of support. I’m going to have to cultivate the courage and the self-regard to notice what I need and ask for it or go find it for myself. This takes practice. 

I’m getting kind of good at it. 

I’m also skilled at holding space for others to find this level of support.

People who care deeply about others, who want to figure out how to show up while living in a system that keeps us overextended, disconnected, and in constant cognitive overload.

For many years I was doing everything I could to discipline my mind, stay mobilized and keep going for my family and community. Yoga and meditation gave me a sense of coming home. 

Still, I had a sense that my life was just beyond arm’s length, a little foggy and out of reach. 

My mind was starting to settle a bit. And yet I wasn’t rooted in my body.

At 40, I started learning a new language of calm, regulation and resilience in my body.

For my 40th birthday, I gifted myself with a series of somatically oriented mentorship sessions. I’ve been grateful for this decision ever since.

At that time I was stuck in grief and going through a crisis of faith. I had lost my capacity to meditate.

My mentor of many years, Michael Stone, had died tragically of a fentanyl overdose. Michael’s ongoing experience of mental illness was not something I had been fully aware of. I was overwhelmed, disoriented, and had no idea how to proceed.

In a time that felt unsafe and uncertain, somatically oriented therapy brought me into deeper embodiment. A neurologically-informed, relational approach to trauma recovery and somatic healing became a lifeline back to sensation and action. 

I was able to unpack and release a lot of shame around my feelings and experience. I started learning to access secure attachment, creating a more reliable sense of calm, regulation and resilience in my body.

That hazy arm’s length between me and the moment got shorter, clearer. I started to move between states more easily, feeling a kind of coherence between my thoughts, emotions, sensations and external circumstances.

Eventually I came back to meditation, this time with a greater ability to bring that feeling of home I got on the cushion back into my daily life, and with sharper discernment—so I could say NO to dogmatic and shame-based practices.

This feeling of coherence and connection and self-regard is what I want for you.