I didn’t begin this work because I planned to.
I began because my body — and my life — asked me to.
Lockdown in 2020 cracked something open for me.
At the time, I was working in pelvic floor rehab (the no-kegels kind that honours the whole body). Then I saw a training advertised. Something in me said, “why not?” — and I followed it.
After my very first session — a full house — I walked away with the quiet, certain feeling:
this is my calling.
But really, the roots of this work go much deeper.
I’ve drummed since the death of my second baby.
The drum became my medicine — it gave shape to grief, breath to silence, and rhythm to a body learning to find its way home again. Sharing drumming with others now feels like passing on an ancient remembering: that rhythm lives in all of us, and we belong in our bodies, in community, and on this earth.
My work is also shaped by a long journey through my own body — years of back and knee pain, depression that once landed me in hospital, and learning (through massage, energy work, pregnancy and postpartum care, and corrective exercise) that true healing doesn’t come from a quick fix.
It comes from reconnection — to self, to each other, and to nature.
That’s what I offer: spaces for reconnection.
For your nervous system to soften.
For your breath to deepen.
For you to remember that your body still knows the way home.
People often tell me they leave feeling like they’ve come home — relaxed, peaceful, grounded, held. When they arrive, they can let their guard down. There’s laughter, community, tea and flapjack. It’s ritual, but never rigid. It’s a cocoon, not a clinic.
This work is my soul’s purpose, my legacy.
It’s what I have to do — and what I love to do.
I hold space the way I wish someone had once held it for me: with gentleness, humour, and deep respect for the human body and spirit.
When I’m not running sessions, you’ll find me walking in nature, drinking tea, or drumming under the trees. Friends describe me as funny, nurturing, and wise — I’ll take that as a good summary of how I like to show up for people.
If your nervous system is tired of being in survival mode,
and you’re longing for somewhere you can land —
you’re welcome here.