Ornate Journal About PageI always knew I would someday become a writer. From the first moment my immigrant grandmother taught me to spell my name in purple crayon on a crisp white sheet of paper, I knew I wanted to write. I remember that moment well, the flash of recognition I felt as I understood those purple shapes and lines to contain all that was the essence of little, four-year-old me. It was as though my small universe had expanded in that instant, and while I was only a child, I was granted an awareness of the immense power that words could possess; the power to connect, to heal, to transform.

This website not only contains information on workshops and training, but also a collection of personal stories; many of which illustrate the most precious lessons I have learned during my time on this earth thus far. May these stories provide sustenance to all who read them. May these words inspire you to embrace your own life; that rich tapestry of tales consisting, at their most basic, of moments, feelings, breath. May you ask yourself the same subtle yet powerful questions I have asked myself of late: What do I really want out of life? What do I need to change in order to create this? What can I do RIGHT NOW?

There is nothing so potent as a story. And when it is infused with the richness of all we have experienced, in our gloriously muddled humanity, it becomes achingly beautiful. Pain becomes poetry; sadness, a resonant melody that flows through our veins like liquid light. Tales of love, joy and hope can create a divine transference that easily crosses boundaries, and transcends space and time.

I am no sage; only a simple woman with a penchant for wildness and story. I have been blessed with the role of observer time and again, and life has handed me a series of rare glimpses into stark realities that many can only imagine. These glimpses have challenged me to practice love in action and to understand the true meaning of compassion. They have caused me to dig deep in order to unearth that tiny kernel of wisdom that lingers inside, like the whiff of story smoke after a hearty telling. This is the stuff of warrior and prophet, goddess and guide, which bubbles at the core of us all. We need only be silent in order to hear the distant drumbeat of our ancestors guiding us toward that very core. And to listen for that steady mantra whispered by all who have walked here before.
Remember. Honour. Tell.

Garden path