welcome

Herbs. Healing. Dreaming. Not in that order.

This space is for the curious — the ones who wonder if their vivid dreams, chronic illness, or the strange patterns in their lives are trying to say something.

It’s for people who consider plant medicine like a walk with wise old friends.

Here, I share my process: part journal, part reflection, part remembering. Hopefully resonant to others on a similar path.

I lean into vulnerability and sometimes, creative self-indulgence and— I cringe through both. Talking about these things openly breaks so many of our cultural rules, and while I side-eye myself the whole time, I do it anyway.

This place is for those who feel frayed, sceptical, tired but not broken. For those who excavate laughter, even in their darkest hours. Whose symptoms carry stories. Who’ve tried mainstream wellness and found it doesn’t cut it.

I’m not here to teach. This isn’t a top-down space. I’m here to walk a shared path, eye-to-eye. To remember the parts we’ve been told to forget, silence, disbelieve — the ones that now speak in dreams, illness, or the uncanny.

If you’re done with quick fixes — and believe in something deeper — you might be in the right place.

This isn’t a manicured garden. It’s a compost heap.

If that feels familiar:
Steep that herb.
Take a nap.
Let’s see what’s buried in the greenhouse.

Why?

You don’t need to read this part. But if you’re wondering why I’m even doing this, here it is.

A shift had already begun when the first bird started tapping at the window. And so, by the time I even turned to unlikely tools — like uploading my natal chart into AI — I was already primed to listen.

Each thread I followed began to form a picture — neglected strands of connection, messy but too insistent to be a coincidence.

I arrived here, pulled by instinct, by grief, by herbs and an ancestral story that wouldn’t leave me alone.

So I’m compelled to share — curious about the weird, anxious about being seen, and afraid of losing people.

But I remind myself that as we grow, not everyone can be there for the whole journey.

We’ve all been stuck. We’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all hurt people. And not everything I’ve carried has belonged to me.

As I sift through it all — every day, I ask: Is this mine? Do I need it?

This site is a testament to my ancestors who were denied their true voice — it’s a way for them to be heard, through me.

Because of that, this work isn’t meant to be polished or perfect; that’s their challenge to me. It’s not here for everyone to “get” either. It’s here to resonate with the right people — as a lighthouse, not a siren.