My journey as a healing arts practitioner began at age five.

My mother lived with chronic conditions that made touch almost unbearable for her. Almost. During healing sessions, she could receive it. And so I discovered early what it meant to create and hold sacred space — a place where someone carrying unbearable weight could take refuge.

My Mother, Katie, was my first teacher.

Decades later, I was with her at the end of her life. And what I witnessed in those last years has made me a more complete, more qualified practitioner than any book or classroom training ever could.

Those looking on without a spiritual framework may have seen only difficulty and loss. What I witnessed was a soul, a woman — metabolizing, integrating, reclaiming. Reflecting on her life more thoroughly than ever before. Filling in the holes. Rewriting stories she’d carried for decades. Finding peace. Readying herself for the next phase of her evolution.

I’ve lived the full arc of a human healing journey alongside another soul. Through this there was a transmission, a confirmation, an affirmation of the ongoing spiritual reality. What a gift!

My training and lineage

My path deepened through apprenticeships beginning in 1980 in Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico, eventually leading to formal education at Santa Fe Academy of Healing Arts. I’ve been a licensed massage therapist since 2014 and bring well over 10,000 hours of hands-on practice to each session.

Drawing from indigenous perspectives of Native America, Hawaii, India, and Japan, I work with Lomilomi, Abhyanga, Usui Reiki, Hawaiian Huna, and Ayurveda, alongside a number of traditional Western practices including trigger point therapy, and myofascial release. Each session is uniquely tailored, guided by what your body needs.

I trust that a body in balance is self-healing. Through ritual preparation, presence, deep listening, and skillful response, I help restore this balance. This combination — skill, presence, and your willingness — creates the conditions where expansive change can happen.

Who comes to me

They arrive carrying the weight of someone else’s nightmare, convinced it’s real. The stories they’ve been told so many times they’re now on replay — in the mind, in the nervous system, in the body itself. And even though something in them knows this story isn’t true, they’ve lost their way back to clarity.

They’re people who care deeply, feel deeply, love deeply. And, who perhaps have gone numb from the seemingly insatiable demands of society. Who feel the persistent incongruence between what they know could be — and what appears to be. That tension is exhausting.

What happens in a session

The droning stops.

They remember their body as temple, as refuge. The nervous system — wound tight, reacting to everything in ways they’re not even aware of — begins to regulate. Breath deepens. And incrementally, they find the inner rhythm again. Like the lapping of the ocean, tide moving in and out.

They are lulled awake.

As the work continues it builds, refreshes, opens — perception, perspective, the pathway inward and all the myriad ways outward. This work is metabolization, integration. Also the quiet space in which people reflect, reclaim, and sometimes rewrite the stories they’ve been living inside.

What they leave with

They leave at least with a bar or two of the song they came into this world with — singing.

Their interior world tidied. The windows of who they are cleaned and polished, so the light within can shine outward — and the beauty of the world can reach them again.

I was once in a coffee shop where the woman behind the counter was holding her baby while running the register. As the credit card receipt printed, that baby girl — maybe eleven months old — watched it with her whole face & body expressing delight.  Eyes wide. Mouth open. Pure presence. No judgment, no weight, no story. Just — oooh. look at that.

That’s what I’m returning people to.

Because underneath everything they’ve been carrying, that capacity is still there. It never left.

This life is one fantastic gig. Sometimes we just need help remembering that.

Be whole. Be well. Be free.