How I came to spiritual direction

A woman wearing a red jacket and a backpack, taking a selfie outdoors in a green, open countryside landscape with rolling fields and distant trees.

I have always been drawn to the quieter side of life. The inner journey and the opportunity to engage the depths of one's own life and the depths of existence has always fascinated me. I am devoted to lifelong learning and growth, for myself and others.

As an infant, I was baptized in the Episcopal church, in a tiny stone chapel in Sudbury, Massachusetts. From the age of five, I happily attended church camp in southeastern MA and Cape Cod. Those days began the formation of an ongoing relationship with the numinous, the mystical, and a sense of being deeply loved by something hard to name that continues to this day.

I was fortunate to find journaling at age 14, which saw me through the tumultuous years of adolescence and early adulthood. Journaling continues to be one of the easiest and most reliable ways I can pray and connect with God/the Divine/the great Creator. Along with journaling, the other sources of consolation I discovered in those years — spending time in nature and taking long walks — became the cornerstones of my spiritual life.

Being on the other side of this work — as a directee myself — has taught me how easily we can miss or disown our own real gifts, and how much it can mean to have someone else help us notice and honor them.

I have studied literature, human behavior, poetry, letter-press printing, piano, and wildflowers. I have worked with families and individuals in mental health settings. A few years ago I began exploring contemplative photography. All of these interests have been ways to practice paying attention and beholding the depth of what's in front of me, letting it be its own. In this way, they all feed the work I do while sitting with someone exploring what is sacred and moving to them, listening for God's prayer for their lives.

As a nerdy writer and editor, I spent about 30 years working in technology. Those years taught me to listen for what's actually being said beneath the words. During the pandemic, I noticed how much my colleagues were struggling, and started leading mindfulness groups online at work — helping people remember their innate humanity and dignity in the midst of stressful, fast-paced, ever-changing work days.

I'm writing this from my own threshold. Leading mindfulness groups deepened the call to nourish my contemplative yearning, which led me to training in spiritual direction at the Shalem Institute. Having recently left technology to build this practice, I am still finding my footing in a life that looks different than it did a year ago. I know something now, in my body, about what it means to stand at the edge of what's next without yet knowing its shape. That knowing informs how I sit with others standing at their own crossroads.

Whatever your own threshold holds right now — I believe everyone deserves to meet themselves with curiosity and compassion. It's the work of my own life, and it's what I hope to help you find in yours.

Close-up of an antique metal door knocker with a decorative design, mounted on weathered wooden door.

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