Stepping into my first Productive Learning workshop was a quest for answers, but what I discovered was a profound shift in how I perceive myself—and it’s shaped the course of my life ever since. Self-inquiry has become my superpower, guiding me not just to facilitate transformative workshops but also to cultivate a life rich with love, growth, and profound connections (including with my incredible husband, Lindon!). I see personal development as an ongoing journey, and I’m honored to walk alongside our amazing clients on that path.
Through every high and low, from moments of pure joy to the depths of grief, I’ve come to understand the power of awareness—it’s the key to living fully, loving deeply, and meeting life’s challenges with grace. When I’m not immersed in workshops, you’ll likely find me participating in workshops, being coached, singing, dancing, or hiking, and playing with my dog and my joy-on-legs daughter because I believe in embracing life with enthusiasm and authenticity!
If you had a personal theme song that played every time you walked into a room, what would it be?
If I had a theme song, it’d be Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses. It’s my go-to karaoke jam, the opening commands attention, and let’s be honest—I’d love an excuse to perfect my Axl Rose hip swing. But beyond that, the song reflects our journey at work: moving from survival mode—reactive, defensive, ‘four-legged’ thinking—to conscious, upright beings guided by values and abundance. It’s a soundtrack for tr
If you could relive one day of your life, which would it be and why?
If I could relive one day, it would be the day we lost our son, Bodhi. It was the deepest pain I’ve ever felt—the kind that broke me wide open. In that moment, I thought I had died too. But as Bodhi left, something else was born in me. The worst had happened, yet I was fully present—to my grief, to the love surrounding me, to life itself.
People gathered with warmth and compassion, and for the first time, all the noise in my mind disappeared. I was completely awake. His death revealed my strength, my capacity to love, and the truth that love is more powerful than loss.
And his face was the most beautiful I had ever seen. I’d like to see him again.
What’s one moment that completely changed how you see the world?
I used to think loving someone meant managing their experience—meeting their needs, making them whole. If I loved fully, they’d be happy. But now, I see love differently. Real love means holding space for pain, disappointment, and struggle—without trying to fix it. My job isn’t to heal others, but to reflect their ability to heal themselves. The key is taking 100% responsibility for my own experience, my healing, my integrity. Love isn’t about saving someone from their pain; it’s about being solid, aligned, and true to my highest principles. When I stand in that, others can find their own way—without me trying to help them.
If you had a personal theme song that played every time you walked into a room, what would it be?
If I had a theme song, it’d be Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses. It’s my go-to karaoke jam, the opening commands attention, and let’s be honest—I’d love an excuse to perfect my Axl Rose hip swing. But beyond that, the song reflects our journey at work: moving from survival mode—reactive, defensive, ‘four-legged’ thinking—to conscious, upright beings guided by values and abundance. It’s a soundtrack for tr
If you could relive one day of your life, which would it be and why?
If I could relive one day, it would be the day we lost our son, Bodhi. It was the deepest pain I’ve ever felt—the kind that broke me wide open. In that moment, I thought I had died too. But as Bodhi left, something else was born in me. The worst had happened, yet I was fully present—to my grief, to the love surrounding me, to life itself.
People gathered with warmth and compassion, and for the first time, all the noise in my mind disappeared. I was completely awake. His death revealed my strength, my capacity to love, and the truth that love is more powerful than loss.
And his face was the most beautiful I had ever seen. I’d like to see him again.
What’s one moment that completely changed how you see the world?
I used to think loving someone meant managing their experience—meeting their needs, making them whole. If I loved fully, they’d be happy. But now, I see love differently. Real love means holding space for pain, disappointment, and struggle—without trying to fix it. My job isn’t to heal others, but to reflect their ability to heal themselves. The key is taking 100% responsibility for my own experience, my healing, my integrity. Love isn’t about saving someone from their pain; it’s about being solid, aligned, and true to my highest principles. When I stand in that, others can find their own way—without me trying to help them.
If you had a personal theme song that played every time you walked into a room, what would it be?
If I had a theme song, it’d be Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses. It’s my go-to karaoke jam, the opening commands attention, and let’s be honest—I’d love an excuse to perfect my Axl Rose hip swing. But beyond that, the song reflects our journey at work: moving from survival mode—reactive, defensive, ‘four-legged’ thinking—to conscious, upright beings guided by values and abundance. It’s a soundtrack for tr
If you could relive one day of your life, which would it be and why?
If I could relive one day, it would be the day we lost our son, Bodhi. It was the deepest pain I’ve ever felt—the kind that broke me wide open. In that moment, I thought I had died too. But as Bodhi left, something else was born in me. The worst had happened, yet I was fully present—to my grief, to the love surrounding me, to life itself.
People gathered with warmth and compassion, and for the first time, all the noise in my mind disappeared. I was completely awake. His death revealed my strength, my capacity to love, and the truth that love is more powerful than loss.
And his face was the most beautiful I had ever seen. I’d like to see him again.
What’s one moment that completely changed how you see the world?
I used to think loving someone meant managing their experience—meeting their needs, making them whole. If I loved fully, they’d be happy. But now, I see love differently. Real love means holding space for pain, disappointment, and struggle—without trying to fix it. My job isn’t to heal others, but to reflect their ability to heal themselves. The key is taking 100% responsibility for my own experience, my healing, my integrity. Love isn’t about saving someone from their pain; it’s about being solid, aligned, and true to my highest principles. When I stand in that, others can find their own way—without me trying to help them.