A little about who I am, how I got here, and what I believe healing can look like.
I didn't choose this path so much as recognize it — again and again, in every direction I turned.
Some people find healing work after a crisis. I found mine through a kind of quiet inevitability — a pull toward the body, toward mystery, toward the places where the physical and the sacred overlap. Looking back, the thread was always there.
As a massage therapist, somatic yoga instructor, and self-taught practitioner of the metaphysical arts, my work sits at the intersection of the rigorously evidence-based and the deeply intuitive. I hold both. I don't think you have to choose between van der Kolk's neuroscience and the wisdom of a tarot deck. Both are maps. Both point inward.
My particular focus — nervous system regulation, chronic pain relief, recovery from surgery and injury — grew out of lived experience. I've known what it is to be in a body that doesn't feel like home. I've done the work of coming back. That's not incidental to what I offer. It's the foundation of it.
Over time I've woven together massage therapy, somatic yoga, breathwork, seasonal attunement, and the metaphysical arts into something that isn't quite any one thing. I call it integrated healing. Clients tend to call it the thing that finally worked.
My job is not to fix you. It's to create the conditions in which your own system remembers how to regulate, restore, and return to itself.
I work from a trauma-informed framework — which means I understand that the nervous system holds history, and that real healing requires safety before it requires anything else. Before technique. Before insight. Before transformation.
This shapes everything: the pace of a session, the way I introduce touch, the language I use, the silences I'm willing to hold. It's why I don't rush, and why I don't offer a one-size-fits-all approach to anything.
I'm also deeply seasonal in my thinking. The Wheel of the Year, Ayurveda, and astrology are not decorative to my practice — they're structural. What the body needs in the depths of winter is not what it needs at the height of summer. Healing that ignores the natural world is healing that misses half the picture.
The nervous system cannot receive healing it doesn't feel safe enough to accept. Every session begins with establishing that ground — unhurried, unforced.
I don't impose a treatment plan onto your body. I listen to what it's already communicating and work with that intelligence, not against it.
Pain, stress, and disconnection don't exist in neat compartments. Neither does healing. I blend modalities because bodies are whole systems, not collections of symptoms.
Healing work should not be a luxury. Pricing, pacing, and approach are all shaped by a commitment to keeping this work within reach for real people.
We are not separate from the natural world. Practice that honors the rhythms of the earth — the Wheel of the Year, the lunar cycle, the quality of the light — is practice that goes deeper.
Whether you're coming for a massage, a yoga class, a retreat, or something metaphysical — a few things are always true.
No prerequisites. No performance. Whatever you're carrying when you arrive is welcome. I've learned that showing up is often the hardest part — after that, we move at your pace.
Sessions are responsive, not scripted. I draw on massage, breathwork, somatic noticing, and metaphysical tools based on what you and your body are actually asking for in that moment.
I don't push through resistance — I work with it. The nervous system has its own timing, and I've learned to respect that. Slower is often deeper. Quieter is often more.
Bodies hold a lot. Sometimes a release in the shoulders opens something emotional. Sometimes a tarot card says exactly the thing you didn't know you needed to hear. I hold space for all of it.
The Rewilding Retreat isn't just programming — it's people. The shared meals, the campfire conversations, the friendship bracelets made at a table full of strangers who feel like kin by Sunday. That's not incidental. That's the point.
My work isn't meant to create dependency on me. It's meant to give you tools, language, and embodied experience you can take into your daily life. The goal is always your own deepening autonomy.
The Iyengar tradition is known for its precision, its deep attention to alignment, and its respect for the intelligence of the individual body. That ethos lives inside every class I teach — the patience, the detail, the insistence that props are not cheating but wisdom.
The Rewilding Retreat is the best first step — three days to experience the full range of this work, in community, at a price that was designed to include you.