I am an artist, herbalist, writer, astrologer + tarot reader, practitioner of parts + shadow work, facilitator of workshops and rituals, wilderness educator, and lifelong student of human psychology and evolution.

I spent most of my 20s in school and exploring the wilds of Montana. In my 30s I moved to Portland, Oregon where I taught creative writing, environmental literature, and seminars about social change through personal evolution through my own writing studio and for Prescott College.

In my late 30s I moved to Breitenbush Hot Springs in the Oregon Cascades where I led weekly writing and meditation circles, facilitated seasonal rituals for the community and our guests, and began my work as a community herbalist, astrologer, and tarot reader.

I have spent most of my 40s supporting folks on their evolutionary journeys through the offerings you see here and running a small herbal medicine business with my husband from our home in a small intentional community on the ancestral lands of the Dakubetede in the wilds of Southern Oregon.

I have an undergraduate degree in adventure education and environmental studies from Prescott College, a master’s degree in environmental writing from the University of Montana, a certificate in Somatic Attachment Therapy from the Embody Lab, and am engaged in ongoing studies in Somatic Parts Work and other trauma-informed approaches to healing.

I am a white, able-bodied, cis-gender woman from a middle class background in a monogamous relationship with a cis white man. I strive to be an ally to BIPOC folks and people of all shades of the LGBTQIA+ rainbow in a diversity of relationship configurations. I also recognize that my identities grant me power and privileges that I did not earn. If you identify as a member of these groups and feel called to work with me, I’d love to work with you.

If you are called to the type of work I do but seek the support of someone whose life experiences mirror yours more closely, I get it. Be in touch so I can share resources and connections.

A month before my 37th birthday, my relationship of six years ended in one short conversation. It was not my choice. All of my friends were deeply embedded in their marriages, careers, and parenthood and I was suddenly alone and unmoored. It was both terrifying and freeing at the same time, deeply hurtful and exactly right.

Within hours of our “this is over” conversation, I had decided to leave my steady job and Portland life of seven years, get rid of most of my possessions, and fly to my family home in Chicago on a one-way ticket so I could stay long enough to catch my breath and figure out my next move. It was time for me to find my way to the cabin in the woods I’d been dreaming about my whole life. I just had to figure out how to get there.

But first, I had to grieve. Even though I knew that I had just been released from a relationship that confined me, and even though I trusted that a better life was already unfolding, the hurts of the previous months and years needed tending. And so, for the first time in my life, I intentionally turned toward my heartache.

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When I was nineteen my dad died suddenly. He was love and spirit and boisterous song embodied, and I had no idea how to meet the giant cavity in my heart left by his death. I had no clue who I was without his love and encouragement and wisdom. And I way too terrified to touch the swirling black hole of grief looming in front of me.

I felt numb instead. I rode my bike miles into the mountains and deserts surrounding my college town and hiked for many miles beyond that, soothed by movement and nature, but dissociated at the same time.

I know now that my body had its own wisdom as it lured me into the wilds and I am grateful for it. But I often wish that I could walk alongside that nineteen year old and let her know that there is space for her sadness too. And that, as much as it sears, feeling it will actually bring healing.

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When my longterm partner and I ended our relationship seventeen years later, I wanted to do things differently than I had as a teenager. I wanted to show up for my grief. And so I did. My grief and I walked or cross-country skied every morning on the shores of Lake Michigan, listening to dharma talks and feeling it all—the pain of rejection, the fear of uncertainty, the sting of betrayal, and the relief that comes with truth being spoken aloud.

The biggest sadness I felt was for the version of myself who had stayed in an unfulfilling relationship as long as I had. I ached for that part of me, and I knew that the next step of my journey had to include healing the wounds that led me to choose emotionally unavailable partners again and again.

On one of those walks when the lake ice was beginning to break up, I suddenly had a sense of wings emerging from my shoulder blades. They were beautiful and bloody at the same time, and when they opened, I felt my heart expand until it enveloped me. My grief had given way to a love big enough to hold all of me.

I knew then that my work, no matter my job title, was love. It was to know love and be love and spread love and hold space for others to contact and cultivate love in all its forms, no matter how gnarly it feels.

In the decade since, I have been a devoted student and practitioner of love. And that has included a deep dive into attachment theory, relational neuroscience, communication skills, shadow work, parts work, personal and ancestral trauma, boundaries practice, somatic awareness, polyvagal theory, mindfulness, tarot, and astrology. It has taken more vulnerability and, thus, more courage than I ever knew I had in me.

My apprenticeship to love has transformed my relationship with myself and my emotions. It has helped me stand more fully in my power and humility at the same time. It has taught me how to be a stronger leader and a better participant. Love and all its practices continue to heal my deepest losses and allow me to trust that I can show up wholly for those yet to come.

I’ve been obsessed with Human Evolution since my dad first waved his hand at early hominid skulls behind the glass cases at the Field Museum of Natural History and said, “Those are your ancestors, your great, great, great grandparents!”

At first, my interest was mostly anatomical. How DID those similar-but-definitely-different creatures behind the glass become me?

That question expanded into a burning curiosity about the evolution of human behavior when I wrote a paper about human sexuality for my Evolutionary Biology course in college, which I was taking because I wanted to be a conservation biologist. I thought it would be the best way to help heal the earth.

But the more I studied, the clearer it became that there was no hope for earthly wellbeing without a dramatic shift in human values. And that shift, I realized, would take an evolutionary journey at least as bold as the one that had transformed Australopithecus into me. And I wanted to play a role in it.

A few years later, I went to graduate school at the University of Montana’s Environmental Studies Program to understand how we had become such “intelligent” yet self-destructive beings, and to explore how we could evolve into a species that uses our brilliant creativity in service of the earth’s and our own wellbeing.

For my graduate thesis in 2004, I wrote a collection of memoir-style essays that braided together stories about my own evolution as an individual with what I had learned about our species’ evolutionary journey. Along the way I discovered neuroplasticity, or the capacity of our brains and nervous systems to evolve through conscious effort.

My excitement about the emerging scientific evidence that humans could alter their brain patterns through mindfulness and meditation practices was the key to the door I had been knocking on my whole life! And it was the entry point to twenty+ years of academic and personal studies in psychology.

I am now more convinced than ever that our species’ and planet’s wellbeing is dependent on the evolution of human consciousness. By which I mean using our minds and bodies to heal the personal and collective wounds that drive our destructive behaviors.

By which I mean being vulnerable enough to fall in love with the living world and one another so we can create civilizations that work in harmony with the land and all the bodies in it, not in domination of it all.

And in order to do that, I believe we must begin with ourselves.

I have found that my own capacity to evolve into a more integrated human is in direct proportion with my willingness to connect with the parts of me that reside outside of my cognitive awareness and offer a compassionate presence to all the discomforts they bring. Some of those parts are scared or hurt, while others shine bright but feel unworthy of doing so.

And so my personal work is all about finding bridges into unknown territories and befriending all the parts of me that live there, including the scared (and thus often scary) ones, and escorting them back to the land of awareness with me. Many of these young, unskilled aspects of me now feel safe enough to relinquish their fear-based control.

As they do, I feel less anxious and more free and confident, have better boundaries, am better at asking for what I want, am increasingly skillful at engaging with interpersonal conflict and emotional discomfort, and live in greater alignment with my deepest values as each year goes by.

The bridges into the hidden depths that work best for me are freewriting, tarot, astrology, mindfulness, guided meditations, art, parts work, somatic practices, self-designed rituals, and wilderness journeys.

These bridges are the ones I most enjoy and trust to hold me, and so they are the ones I offer to you.

I am not a licensed therapist. I am an artist, herbalist, writer, facilitator, astrologer, tarot reader, sparkle-and-shadow mirror, storyteller, educator, reflective listener, small-business owner, ecstatic wanderer, student of love and beauty, and evolutionary human.

And if you want a grounded, practiced, and sometimes-funny companion to accompany you over some beautiful bridges into your inner wildernesses, I’d love to work with you.

You can choose single tarot or astrology readings, or we can work together on a regular basis doing Integrative Sessions for Personal Evolution. Please visit my offerings page to learn more.

In addition to individual sessions, I offer monthly new moon circles on Zoom and in-person rituals and gatherings to honor natural cycles throughout the year.

I am also available to facilitate custom gatherings and rituals for you and your people. Book a free consultation to learn more.