For a long time, I lived the way I thought I was supposed to. I worked hard. I carried responsibility. I adapted. I learned how to function inside systems that rewarded speed, productivity, and self-abandonment disguised as success.

I did well enough.
And still, something felt off.

Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just clearly.

I come from Athabascan roots where life moved in relationship with land, seasons, and community. Where care was shared. Where presence mattered. Where living was not something you optimized, but something you participated in.

Living in the modern world, and later living abroad, I felt the absence of that more and more. The way life fragments us. Pulls us out of our bodies. Teaches us to ignore what we know in order to keep up.

Eventually, I stopped trying to push past that feeling.

I turned inward.
I slowed my pace.
I began listening again.

Not for answers, but to what had been quietly calling all along.

I listened to the rhythms of nature.
To my own inner knowing.
To the drum.
To spirit.
To the ancestors who never left, even when I moved halfway around the world.

What began as meditation became deeper listening.
What began as stillness opened into shamanic practice and energetic work.

Living in Greenland, working with Rakel, an Inuit shaman, helped me remember something I'd always known but tried to set aside: Spirit is not something outside of us. It's something we're in relationship with. Not as something new to master, but as something old to remember.

I didn't set out to become anything. I started living differently, and the right people began finding me. Not because I had it all figured out. Because I was willing to listen.

Today, I live intentionally. I mother. I bake sourdough. I walk. I work. I laugh. I drum. I create. I live in relationship with nature and the quieter rhythms that steady me. Some days this feels deeply grounded. Some days it looks like throwing dinner together and figuring it out as I go. I choose presence where I can, and honesty where I can’t.

This is not a perfected life.
It is a lived one.

My work grows directly from how I live. From listening, tending, returning, and staying in relationship with spirit, land, body, and community. I offer shamanic guidance, mediumship, spiritual mentorship, and spaces for people to reconnect to themselves in ways that feel grounded and real.

Healing is not a finish line. It's something I return to, again and again. My own healing informs my work.

The grief I've moved through.
The overwhelm I've untangled.
The spiritual reconnection I've practiced while raising kids in a country far from my motherland.

I'm not offering you something I read about. I'm offering you something I live.