My connection to the earth and the unseen has always been with me. Long before I had words for it, The plants whispered to me, I felt the energy between all things — sensing what lived beneath the surface of the visible world. It was simply how I arrived here.

At fifteen, a severe illness brought me to the threshold— I was told I had perhaps three — six months to live. What met me there was the same medicine I had always known: my entire family came together, each one returning to their roots, bringing handmade remedies they had made themselves. It was those medicines — and the hands and hearts behind them — that held my life and guided me back home.

That passage confirmed what I had always felt. I devoted myself first to the plants — learning their language, their intelligence, their way of moving through the senses and into the energetic body. I came to understand that scent, touch, sound, and presence are not separate from healing — they are the healing.

This led me to the body itself. I became a licensed massage therapist and learned through my hands what the body holds in silence — what it grieves, what it protects, what it is ready to release.

From there, sound called me into deeper relation.I discovered that sound is not something we hear so much as something we become. It gives sensation to what words cannot express. It moves through bone and memory and time. It finds what is hidden and holds it in vibration until something ancient in us remembers how to let go.

Then came the subtle realms — breath, presence, the space within and between. I came to understand that the subtle is not the absence of something — it is the most profound medicine of all. It asks everything of us. It asks us to slow down enough to feel what is actually here.

Altars became my practice. Ceremony became my language. I learned to hold space the way my ancestors once did — with intention, with reverence, with the understanding that every gathering is sacred and every person who arrives is already being met by something greater than either of us.

Over time I came to recognize these not as things I had learned —

but as things I had always known,

carried in my blood,

passed down through the curanderos and curanderas in my lineage.

I am a medicine woman, a ceremonialist, a faerie.

I work with the subtle and the sacred

because I know firsthand

how tenderly they hold a life.