I’ve Been Waiting to Write This

An introduction. A beginning. And an honest account of how I got here.

I am writing this from a treehouse in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Outside the window, a sea of evergreen — cedar, Douglas fir, white and ponderosa pines . A ditch trail left over from gold mining days somewhere below. My dog asleep on the floor beside me. I turn fifty next month.

Nine months ago I left my consulting career — the last chapter of more than two decades of entrepreneurship, business leadership, strategy, and high-stakes advisory work — and took a sabbatical. Not a vacation. A full stop. The kind where you wake up in the morning without a meeting and sit with yourself long enough to hear what has been waiting to be heard.

What I heard was not a surprise, exactly. My body and spirit had been calling for me to take this time. It was more like a homecoming to something I had always known but had not yet fully claimed: this is what I am here to do. Hold space. Read what is underneath. Help people come home to themselves. The two paths I had been walking for most of my adult life — the strategic and the sacred, the boardroom and the healing room — had finally, completely, become one.

This blog is where I write from that place.

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I have been managing and leading people since I was twenty-five. For more than two decades I operated inside the reality of entrepreneurship and leadership — as CEO, founder, and consultant. I built and scaled businesses, guided hundreds of people into entrepreneurship, supported successful exits. I sat across from leaders navigating the hardest decisions of their careers and helped them see what they couldn’t see from inside the middle of it.

My natural genius in that world was the ability to see the whole — the convergence of people, structures, energy, and possibility — and translate that complexity into a clear and actionable vision. What I understand now is that this was the same capacity I bring to healing work, expressed differently. In the boardroom, I named what I saw and lead people to act on it. In the healing room, I read the core frequency of a person — the place where who they actually are meets what they have been shaped to perform — Then help create space to embody their own spirit to see it for themselves. The perception is the same. The offering is different.

What I also understood, quietly and with increasing certainty over the years: the businesses I worked with reflected the inner state of the people leading them. When the person shifted, the system followed. Transformation was never really about strategy. It was always about the human(s) at the center of it.

Alongside all of that, running parallel and largely private, was the other path.

I began a committed spiritual practice in 1998 at an ashram in New York — yoga, yogic philosophy, the beginning of a decades-long study that would shape everything that followed. Over the years that foundation deepened and widened: teaching Vinyasa and Yoga Nidra, studying Ayurvedic astrology, training in coaching and cultural leadership, intuitive energy healing. I moved through the fire of my own pain and persona with as much honesty as I could bring to it — not to transcend my humanity but to live inside it more fully, with greater depth and less armor.

Through sustained study with world-class teachers and my own relentless inner work, a central capacity became unmistakable: the ability to perceive energy. To read the frequency of a person or a room. To sense what is present beneath what is being said. To hold a field in which others can finally see and claim what is most true in them.

I have healed people with my hands.

I have known things about people the moment I met them.

I have had conversations with those who have passed.

These are not metaphors.

For a long time I held the two paths separately. The business world and the healing world occupied different rooms in my life, and I moved between them without quite acknowledging that they were, in fact, expressions of the same capacity. The same deep seeing. The same ability to perceive the whole of a person and hold space for what was most true in them.

I don’t hold them separately anymore.

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The convergence didn’t happen all at once. It built the way rivers build — each tributary joining quietly, and then one day you look and you are standing at the mouth of something vast.

There was a period of breakdown that became initiation. My body, which had been quietly tracking years of misalignment, finally demanded to be heard — metabolic syndrome, the diagnosis I didn’t get for years, the body staging its intervention. There was the deep inner work, the therapy, the plant medicine that cracked open what I had been unable to open any other way. There was California, and the man who became my partner, and a heart that opened in a way that changed my entire orientation to life.

And then there was the training. Advanced study in intuitive development with Sonia Choquette, one of the most respected intuitives in the world. The first year of the Barbara Brennan School of Healing — one of the most rigorous programs in energetic and hands-on healing that exists. Years of practice. Years of integration.

What I understand now that I couldn’t have articulated five years ago: I was always intuitive. I was always a healer. What I had to do was heal myself thoroughly enough that the channel became clear. Not acquire a new capacity — clear the window I was already looking through. And I had to become fully embodied in the process — not bypassing my body and my humanity in the name of the spiritual, but arriving inside both at once.

The ethereal experiences I had with plant medicine — the visions, the knowings, the contact with what lives beyond ordinary perception — I have those now, regularly, without any medicine at all. Not because something was added. Because something was cleared.

I am embodied for the first time in my life. My spirit is in my body.

I am here, fully, in a way I have not been since early childhood.

That is the work. That is what I help others find their way toward.

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This is not a wellness blog. It is not a thought leadership platform. It is not a place where I offer you five steps to anything.

It is a place where I write honestly about transformation — mine and the people I work with. About what it actually takes and what it actually gives back. About the body as the wisest tool you have. About the intuitive intelligence that every person is born with and most of us are trained to distrust. About what it means to come home to yourself after years of performing a version of yourself that kept everyone comfortable but you.

I will write about the things that are hard to name. About energy and healing and the conversation beneath the conversation and what I perceive when I sit across from someone who is finally ready to be seen. I will write about reinventing a life — I have done it more than once, and I am in the middle of doing it again, now, at fifty, from a treehouse in the mountains. I will write about metabolic syndrome and mountain biking and the people who have changed me and the moments that cracked me open.

I will write in my own voice, which is grounded and direct and occasionally funny and never, I hope, preachy.

I am a healer who spent two decades in boardrooms. I am a woman who has reinvented herself so many times that reinvention has stopped feeling like disruption and started feeling like a practice. And I am, finally and completely, in the right life.

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If you found your way here, something brought you. I trust that.

Maybe you are navigating a transition and not quite sure what you are transitioning

toward. Maybe you have built a life that looks right from the outside and feels off from the inside. Maybe you have always known things you were told not to trust. Maybe you are in the middle of your own becoming and looking for someone who has been there and come out the other side and is willing to say so honestly.

Whatever brought you — welcome. I’m glad you’re here.

I’ve been waiting to write this for a long time.