Beneath the Hollow Tree

Call Website Contact the business

Beneath the Hollow Tree A sacred sanctuary for end-of-life care, grief support, mediumship, and spiritual healing. Gentle guidance for the soul’s journey and those who walk beside it

Beneath the Hollow Tree is where spirit meets earth—where healing, remembrance, and sacred transitions are honoured with reverence and love. I offer end-of-life care, grief support, and spiritual services as a Certified End-of-Life Doula, Certified Bereavement Coach, Reiki Master, and holistic healer. My work integrates Crystal Healing, Colour Therapy, Chakra and Aura Balancing, Spirit Healing, and Trapped Emotion Release to bring comfort to body, mind, and soul. For over five years, I have worked with Spirit as a medium, offering inspirational talks and evidence of life after death, bringing peace and validation to those seeking connection. As an ordained Metaphysical Minister with the Canadian International Metaphysical Ministry and a licensed Wedding Officiant in Ontario, I officiate weddings, funerals, celebration of life ceremonies, baby namings, and other meaningful rites of passage. In my spiritual practice as a Priestess of Jord, I help facilitate sacred circles, Sabbat observances, and full/new moon ceremonies, creating space for earth-honoring connection and spiritual awakening. Whether you're facing a tender goodbye, honoring a life, or seeking soul-deep healing and connection, Beneath the Hollow Tree offers you a place to pause, breathe, and be supported in the arms of Spirit and Nature.

We don't always notice our own growth. There usually isn't a morning when we wake up and suddenly announce:"Well, appar...
10/07/2026

We don't always notice our own growth. There usually isn't a morning when we wake up and suddenly announce:
"Well, apparently I'm wiser now." 😂
It happens more quietly. Something that once would have ruined your entire day now gets a shrug. You stop explaining yourself to people committed to misunderstanding you. You become more comfortable saying no. You discover that silence doesn't always need to be filled. You begin protecting your peace without feeling guilty about it. You stop needing everyone to approve of the life you're creating. And perhaps, one day, you find yourself surrounded by noise and activity and realize...
you can still hear the birds. You can still hear the breeze moving through the trees.
You can still find quiet inside yourself. That's growth too.
Every once in a while, turn around and look at the person you used to be.
Not with judgment. With tenderness.
You were doing the best you knew how to do.
And look how far you have brought you.

We tend to photograph the milestones.Birthdays. Weddings. Vacations. Graduations. Christmas mornings.But when we loo...
10/05/2026

We tend to photograph the milestones.
Birthdays. Weddings. Vacations. Graduations. Christmas mornings.
But when we look back on our lives, sometimes the moments we ache for aren't the big ones. They're the ordinary ones.
Someone standing at the kitchen counter. Dad sitting in his favourite chair.
Mom calling just to tell you something completely unimportant. Children running through the house. A dog asleep at your feet. A familiar voice calling from another room. Nothing remarkable was happening.
And perhaps that was exactly what made it remarkable.
We didn't know we were making memories. We thought we were simply living Monday. So don't wait for life to become extraordinary before you pay attention to it. Look around today.
Someone you love may be laughing. The kettle may be boiling. The sun may be coming through the window. Life may be happening quietly all around you.
Collect these moments. Not necessarily with a camera. With your attention.
Because ordinary life is extraordinarily precious.

I am getting better at it.Slowly. Very, very slowly. Today's assignment: do one completely unnecessary thing simply bec...
10/04/2026

I am getting better at it.
Slowly. Very, very slowly.
Today's assignment: do one completely unnecessary thing simply because it makes you happy.
No productivity required.

There are versions of ourselves we eventually outgrow. Not because those versions were wrong. They carried us exactly ...
10/03/2026

There are versions of ourselves we eventually outgrow. Not because those versions were wrong. They carried us exactly as far as they were meant to.
Perhaps you've become quieter. Perhaps your priorities have changed.
Perhaps things that once mattered deeply no longer seem important.
Perhaps you've begun saying no. Perhaps you've discovered spirituality in a way you never expected. Perhaps you've stopped needing everyone to understand you.
Growth can feel uncomfortable because the people around us sometimes know an older version of us better than the person we're becoming.
But your life isn't asking you to remain familiar. It's asking you to remain true.
You don't have to reject who you once were. Thank that version of yourself.
You survived things. You learned. You loved. You made mistakes. You brought yourself here. Then gently allow yourself to become whoever is waiting next.

It's so easy to look around and believe everyone else has figured something out that we haven't.Someone started earlier....
09/30/2026

It's so easy to look around and believe everyone else has figured something out that we haven't.
Someone started earlier. Someone achieved more. Someone seems more confident. Someone appears to know exactly where they're going.
Meanwhile, we're wondering if we've somehow fallen behind.
But behind whom?
There is no universal schedule for becoming yourself.
Some dreams arrive at twenty. Others find us at fifty, sixty, seventy or beyond.
Some chapters require years before we understand why we had to live them.
And sometimes the path we thought was a detour becomes the very road that leads us home.
Your life isn't late. You haven't missed your opportunity to begin again.
You haven't aged out of dreaming. There are still people you haven't met.
Places you haven't stood. Things you haven't learned. Versions of yourself you haven't discovered.
Don't measure your journey using someone else's mile markers.
You're not behind. You're becoming.
And perhaps you're exactly where you need to be for whatever comes next.

09/28/2026

We hear so much about becoming.
Growing. Transforming. Manifesting. Moving forward.
Becoming the next, better version of ourselves.
But nature doesn't bloom twelve months of the year.
There are seasons when very little appears to be happening.
And yet beneath the surface, life continues.
Roots deepen. Energy is restored.
What is no longer needed falls away.
Perhaps our lives have seasons like this too.
A quiet season doesn't mean you're stuck.
A difficult season doesn't mean you've lost your way.
And a season where you simply need to survive doesn't require you to turn the experience into a lesson before you're ready.
Sometimes growth is invisible. Sometimes healing happens underground.
And sometimes the bravest thing we can do is stop demanding that every chapter of our lives produce something beautiful.
Rest your roots. Your time to bloom will come.

There are parts of spousal grief the outside world rarely sees.The funeral ends. People return home. The phone becomes...
09/26/2026

There are parts of spousal grief the outside world rarely sees.
The funeral ends. People return home. The phone becomes quieter.
And eventually, you walk into the bedroom.
There is an empty side of the bed.
For years, sometimes decades, another person occupied that space.
There were conversations in the dark. Cold feet. Snoring. Morning routines.
Goodnight kisses. Arguments that seemed terribly important at the time.
Ordinary evenings when neither of you realized you were living something you would one day desperately miss.
Then suddenly there is space. Too much space.
Grief often lives in these ordinary places.
At the kitchen table. In the passenger seat.
In the grocery store when you automatically reach for something they liked.
In the silence after saying something aloud and realizing no one is there to answer.
These moments don't always look dramatic from the outside.
But they can be enormous to the person living them.
So when someone you know loses a spouse, remember them after the funeral.
Remember them three months later. Six months later. On the first anniversary.
And sometimes, on an entirely ordinary Tuesday.
Because grief doesn't only live on anniversaries.
It lives in empty spaces where love once had a familiar place to land.

Sometimes we become so focused on getting through life that we forget we're also allowed to enjoy it.We wait for the vac...
09/23/2026

Sometimes we become so focused on getting through life that we forget we're also allowed to enjoy it.
We wait for the vacation. The weekend. The celebration.
The day when everything finally settles down.
But life rarely settles down completely.
There will always be another responsibility, another problem to solve, another thing waiting for our attention. Joy doesn't have to wait until all of that is finished.
It can happen while you're standing barefoot on the grass.
While you're singing badly to a song you love. While you're laughing so hard with someone that you forget what you were laughing about.
It can be the first sip of coffee in the morning. A dog delighted that you've returned after being gone for eleven minutes. A beautiful sky. Fresh sheets.
Children laughing. A conversation that lasts longer than you intended.
These aren't interruptions to real life.
They are real life. Notice them. Enjoy them.
Let yourself be happy without wondering how long the happiness will last.
You are here. This day is here.
And there is still so much beauty waiting to be noticed.

I'll rest when I'm finished.How many times have we told ourselves that?When the house is clean. When everyone else is t...
09/21/2026

I'll rest when I'm finished.
How many times have we told ourselves that?
When the house is clean. When everyone else is taken care of.
When the emails are answered. When the list is finished.
Except the list is never really finished.
There will always be something else asking for our attention.
And somewhere along the way, many of us began believing that rest must be earned. But perhaps rest isn't something we earn at all.
Perhaps it is part of being human. Trees don't apologize for becoming still in winter. The sun doesn't apologize for setting. The tide comes in and goes out.
Nature seems to understand something we've forgotten:
There is a rhythm to everything.
Movement and stillness.
Giving and receiving.
Doing and simply being.
You are allowed to stop before you're exhausted. You are allowed to sit down before everything is finished. You are allowed to have an afternoon that produces absolutely nothing except a slightly calmer version of yourself.
The world will continue turning.
The dishes will wait.
Your soul shouldn't always have to.

When my mother died, I don't remember seeing my dad cry.Not when we were together. Not even at her funeral.For a long t...
09/19/2026

When my mother died, I don't remember seeing my dad cry.
Not when we were together. Not even at her funeral.
For a long time, I wondered about that.
I don't know what happened when he was alone. Perhaps that was where his tears came. Perhaps grief showed itself in other ways. Perhaps, like so many husbands and fathers of his generation, he believed his job was to remain strong for everyone else. We often recognize grief when it looks like tears.
But grief doesn't always look that way.
Sometimes it looks like a man sitting alone in a chair that suddenly feels too big for one person. It can be waking in the night and instinctively reaching toward the other side of the bed.
It can be cooking for one when you've cooked for two for forty years.
It can be keeping busy because stopping means feeling.
It can be answering, "I'm fine," because you don't know what else to say.
And sometimes it can be taking care of everyone else's grief while quietly carrying your own.
When a husband loses his wife, he may lose far more than the person he loved.
He may lose the keeper of shared memories.
The person who knew the beginning of the stories.
The familiar voice in the next room.
The person beside him for all those ordinary moments that never seemed important until they were gone.
Not every grieving husband will cry.
Not every man will want to talk.
And there is no single way that husbands grieve.
But perhaps we need to become better at noticing the grief that isn't spoken aloud.
Ask him how he is doing, not only how the family is doing.
Sit with him without requiring him to talk.
Remember that strength and grief can exist in the same person.
And remind him, in whatever way he can receive it, that he doesn't always have to be the strong one. Sometimes the person holding everyone else together needs someone to quietly sit beside him, too.

Address

Courtice, ON

Telephone

+19052591706

Website

,

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Beneath the Hollow Tree posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Business

Send a message to Beneath the Hollow Tree:

Shortcuts

Share

Category