“What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”

- Jane Goodall

  • 10+ years experience in animal care (veterinary, training, rescue and boarding)

  • Bachelor of Design & Illustration from the Alberta University of the Arts

  • Certified Dogma Dog Trainer (DDT)

  • Enrolled in Dogma Certified Behavioural Consultant (DCBC) program

  • Shamanic Reiki, Levels 1 & 2

My Ethos & Personal Philosophy

To offer a glimpse into what shapes who I am, it’s easiest to describe the three core principles that guide my life and work each day:

#1. Meaning is something we actively create for ourselves.

A driving force in how I conduct myself is the understanding that everyone has a unique and complex story to tell — shaped by relationship, environment, and choice. My role, both as a spiritual practitioner and fellow human, is not to judge, change, or define others, but to act as a conduit for healing and support as they discover their own path.

#2. Nature is the ultimate teacher and expression of harmony.

Throughout my life, a repeated lesson I’ve learned from nature is to embrace the flow of life rather than resist or force it. I’ve come to understand that all aspects of creation have inherent value and are worthy of respect, reverence, and compassionate contemplation. From this lens, harmony arises not from control, but from attunement to the rhythms that already exist.

#3. Everything is fundamentally connected.

I approach spirituality through the understanding that the universe is defined by relationship rather than separation. Practices like Taoism, Buddhism, Shamanism, and Druidry — alongside modern insights from quantum theory — reveal a world shaped by inseparability and conscious engagement. My ethos reflects this: every interaction is an energetic exchange that carries impact and calls for ethical responsibility.

Guided by these principles, my work with people and their animals centres on supporting communication, understanding, and emotional insight. I strive to practice with transparency and compassion, recognizing that healing and self-discovery are deeply personal processes, and that no single method serves all beings.

My offerings are intended to empower trust in one’s own intuition, strengthen the bonds between humans and animals, and support grounded, compassionate relationships — within ourselves, with one another, and with the natural world we share.

⋆⁺₊⋆ If you’d like to learn more about me personally — my life, what led me here, and what has shaped me into who I am today — there’s more to explore below ⋆⁺₊⋆

A young girl with dark hair, smiling, holding a small dog with light fur and darker face, in an outdoor setting with trees and leaves.
Close-up of a smiling baby with brown hair, wearing a black and white striped outfit, lying on a white surface with a blue patterned blanket nearby.
A decorative border of intertwined green vines with orange and purple flowers, framing a blank black space in the center.
A young child wearing a blue and black striped knit hat, a camouflage jacket, and gloves, smiling and holding a small puppy with black and white fur outdoors on autumn leaves.

My journey began on a little acreage in rural Alberta, Canada…

From the moment I was aware enough to form interests, my attention has consistently been drawn to two things: art and animals. If I wasn’t creating paintings and drawings of animals, I was outside playing with my pets and observing farm and wildlife, gathering inspiration for new work. Ask anyone who knew me growing up — especially my mum — and they’ll tell you what an odd, imaginative child I was, and how I spent more time running around on all fours with my childhood dogs than I did playing with other children. I preferred it this way — I understood animals better than people, and felt more at home in their world than in the human one (if I’m being honest, I still do).

As the years went on, things began to shift in both my inner and outer world. School was a deeply conflicting and difficult environment for me — I struggled to “fit in” and to meet expectations around how I should learn and who I should be. Combined with many other factors like gender dysphoria, witnessing and personally experiencing a family history of severe mental health illnesses, and parents who loved us deeply but struggled each day with their own childhood wounds, I began to feel lost and directionless. As early as 10 years old, the two shadows many of us wrestle with — anxiety and depression — began to cloud my day-to-day life, and the world lost the sense of magic and safety I had once felt.

Three children sitting on rocks by a river, surrounded by trees and large boulders.
A young girl lying on a bed with a dog, holding the dog's face gently and looking at the camera.
Two illustrated birds perched on a branch with leaves.
Two stylized birds flying among swirling green vines on a white background.

As my mental health worsened, I coped by dissociating — escaping my difficult emotions and experiences however I could, as often as I could. I suppressed what I could and masked the rest, appearing “fine enough” to others on the outside while I wasted away on the inside. By the time I graduated high school and went off to university, I had become a numbed version of myself. Looking back, it felt like sleepwalking — not fully unconscious, but not fully awake either. I no longer knew who I was or what I truly wanted, but I felt “safe,” sheltered by the protective shell I had built over many years — a shell I subconsciously and desperately prayed was impervious to the pain I’d been running from my whole life.

That sense of numb safety came crashing down on New Year’s Eve of 2018, when my father died suddenly of a heart attack in our family home. His death broke me in more ways than one — it upended my understanding of life, control, reality, and safety, and it shattered the barrier I had spent decades building around my heart in the blink of an eye. Years of dissociation and unprocessed trauma surfaced alongside the grief, leaving me with only two options: sink in it, or learn to swim.

What followed has been a long and difficult journey back to my self — a journey that never truly ends, but that grows more powerful and magical the longer I stick to it.

A small bird perched on a leafy branch.
A decorative square frame made of intertwined vines with orange and purple flowers and green leaves.
Person with tattoos cuddling a small cat on a brown and red patterned carpet.
A woman with dark hair, glasses, and tattoos is hugging a dog with a dark face, wearing a colorful tie-dye bandana, while a tabby cat with striped fur is perched on her shoulders. The background shows a kitchen with wooden cabinets and a bulletin board.
A person with tattoos on their arm lying on the grass with eyes closed, wearing a black shirt with a skull design, red shorts, and a black collar on a dog. A dog with tan and black fur is laying next to them, on its side, on the grass.

Through the unconditional love and support of my husband, family, pets, and friends, the guidance of teachings such as Taoism, Buddhism, Shamanism, Druidry, and quantum theory, and my enduring passion for helping animals and creating art, I slowly began returning to that same odd, imaginative child at the core of my being. I learned how to come home to myself, and to find peace and sanctuary there.

This has by no means been a clean or easy process. My path to healing — like many can relate to — has been filled with hard lessons, failures, and heartbreak. It’s messy and confusing and circuitous, but it’s necessary. Two of my greatest motivators through it all were my dog, Django, and my cat, Harriet. I began referring to them as my “canaries in the mines.” A dark analogy, perhaps, but an accurate one — they reflected my own pain back to me in ways I couldn’t ignore. More often than not, it was my love and concern for them that pushed me to face my shadows, because if I wasn’t well, they weren’t either.

This experience awakened a deep passion within me to help others cultivate this kind of relationship with their own animals, and ultimately led me to embrace my work as an animal communicator. I have seen how profoundly life can change through a deeper emotional and spiritual connection with life and those around us — especially our animals — and my hope is to use what I’ve learned to help both humans and animals heal, connect, and love a little more each day.