06/17/2026
Seventeen years ago, my life changed.
For many years, I told the story as the day I nearly died.
But over the years, I began to see that’s not quite true.
June 19th was the day I was reborn.
The day I crossed a threshold and returned carrying more of my light, initiated more fully into my soul’s purpose.
I knew I could not go back to the life I had been living. I wanted to better serve humanity with the time I had been gifted.
Almost immediately, I felt called to create healing spaces where people could feel truly seen, valued and held.
The longer I walk my own healing path, the more I feel called to support others on theirs.
Not by healing them, but by holding space for them in such a sacred way to slow down, hear themselves again and remember their own innate wisdom and power.
Places where we gather as equals around a table, around a fire, beneath the trees, beside the water.
To share our stories.
To truly be there for one another.
To support, witness and inspire each other.
Places rooted in ceremony, yet deeply human.
Where spirituality isn’t something we perform, but something that naturally flows from the core of who we are.
Places where there is room for grief and joy, laughter and silence, spirit and story.
Where nothing needs to be fixed.
Only witnessed. Felt. Remembered.
Looking back, I can see that the woman who returned 17 years ago is not the woman I imagined I would become.
She is much softer. More humble.
More devoted to presence than performance.
More interested in deep connection than achievement.
More willing to sit beside pain and honour it, trusting in the wisdom and medicine it carries.
Perhaps that has been the real initiation.
Not learning how to guide others, but learning how to truly listen.
To Spirit. To the land. To my own heart.
And to the quiet wisdom that lives within each one of us.
This week, I find myself deeply grateful.
Not for what happened, but for everything it has taught me about life and the power of our spirit.
For the path it opened before me and the people it led me to.
And for the reminder, again and again, that our light does not need to be found.
It only needs to be remembered.