I grew up on the shores of a small town in eastern Maine. My early memories are full of the sensory experiences of running barefoot through the woods, climbing trees and swaying with the wind, wading in streams and tide pools, and gathering the harvest from our family garden. These experiences would have been familiar to my ancestors and to people throughout most of human history. They represent a belonging to and intimacy with the earth that was once the birthright of each of us. I have come to know and deeply appreciate the healing power of that relationship, as it continues to sustain me despite life’s inevitable confusion and pain.

My work as  healer is closely connected with this primary relationship with the earth, and in particular, with the wise and gentle guidance of the plants. I’m a trained psychotherapist with a focus on nature-based healing and I’ve deepened my personal healing practice over the years with kundalini yoga, dreamwork, and the study and practice of herbalism. 

I bring the gifts of my own time in the wilds of both nature and the psyche. You can expect me to help weave a sacred container, to welcome whatever shows up with curiosity, kindness and  trust, and to share what I’ve learned about the importance of tending reciprocity in relationship.

“The most remarkable feature of this historical moment on Earth is not that we are on the way to destroying the world — we’ve actually been on the way for quite a while. It is that we are beginning to wake up, as from a millennia-long sleep, to a whole new relationship to our world, to ourselves and each other.”

– Joanna Macy


“You didn’t come into this world. 

You came out of it, like a wave from the ocean. 

You are not a stranger here.”

― Alan Watts

When I am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

Mary Oliver