You've kept everyone's fire lit. This one's lit for you.
The most alive, most you room you'll be in all month --
oracle readings and celebrations as the seasons turn;
big laughter and real conversation;
magic and mischief and rest.
Where you get tended to -- in all the ways you didn't even know to ask for.
Come warm yourself, then go be brave.
We gather on the second and last Sunday of each month, at 10am Pacific.
The first fire is lit to prepare for Samhain -- Sunday, October 25th.
10am Pacific | 1pm Eastern | 6pm UK | 7pm Central Europe
You've carried more than most people know.
And a lot of it, you carried alone.
You worked most of the day. Did everyone's laundry. Made dinner for everyone.
And now, finally, you lower onto the couch for the first time since morning...
your whole body exhales... this moment is yours --
then the dog barks to come in.
In a house full of people, you're the only one who hears it. So you get up.
You're the one who feels everything, the one people hand their heavy things to, because you can hold it.
They love you; that's not in question. But to the people in your world, you're the one who handles it.
And being needed, it turns out, isn't the same as being seen.
That kind of seeing comes from women who've been through their own hard nights,
who hear your story and know it from the inside.
Women who just get it.
Picture the life where every month you get to be with YOUR PEOPLE .
Not another meeting -- for a gathering.
The one you've been looking forward to since the last one ended.
Where the conversation goes straight to the good stuff:
the ancestral ways, the moon, the medicine,
how we're going to pull the matriarchy back up
out of the ground where they buried it.
Where you say the thing you'd normally keep to yourself --
and the women around you lean in, nod, reach for a pen.
Because they're not just hearing you.
They're gathering strength from your stories,
and offering you theirs in return.
You have a good life.
So why doesn't it feel like enough?
You're not ungrateful. You're not broken.
You've just spent so long tuned to what everyone else needs that your own signal went quiet.
Not gone. Just quiet -- because no one ever asks, and there's never a moment still enough to hear the answer anyway.
You've done the work. You've built the life. And still there's a hollow spot where fulfilled should be --
and you've quietly started to wonder if that's your fault.
It isn't. Fulfillment was never going to come from doing more of what looks "right."
It comes from a room that asks the question no one's asked you in years: what do you want?
Then goes quiet, leans in, and actually waits for your answer.
Building that room is what I do. I've watched it land with every kind of woman --
from acupuncturists and yoga instructors in their thirties to women starting over at seventy.
I'm here to open the door to a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks from the outside.
Pull up a chair at a fire that's yours. You'll be amazed at what you dare to dream once you're warm.
Why does this work better than the other stuff I've tried?
The practice is the Stardust & Soil Method.
Because the woman who knows what she wants – and dares to go get it – is built from all things.
Soil is the grounding. The earth and its seasons.
The tending you finally turn toward yourself – and the deep work underneath it,
where what's been left unnoticed gets turned into what feeds you.
This is the real digging, supported and held by women who get you.
Stardust is the rising. Spirit, magic, wonder – play and delight and wanting things out loud,
chasing the dream you filed under someday.
What you finally reach for, once you're rooted enough to want it.
I want to be clear about one thing: you can't do this alone.
You've been the one holding it all up by yourself – this is the thing that finally isn't solo.
This is the only way I know that consistently gives you both things you need:
to be tended and to be set loose.
Twice a month, on purpose, with your people.
And you'll feel it the first time. You'll log off lighter than you logged on, already a little more yourself.
It's not a someday transformation. It's the same afternoon.
A container for all the seasons | $111/mo
Here's how the fire gets tended.
We follow the Wheel of the Year, so every gathering meets the season you're actually in:
what it's time to release, what it's time to grow.
We gather twice a month, the second and last Sunday, 10am Pacific.
The open Circle.
Come as you are, make things with your hands, talk, and move if the mood takes us.
This is where you're heard, where you remember you're interesting, and funny, and not alone.
The deep Circle.
Slower, sacred, ritual.
The real digging you were never meant to do by yourself.
This is where the season's work lands.
And you're never dropped between gatherings:
weekly oracle readings, playlists for when something needs to move, and a room of women one message away.
You build a practice inside The Hearth, one that's still yours long after the season turns.
WHEN DO WE GO LIVE?
October 25th, 2026 | First Hearth Circle - Preparing for Samhain
Every second and last Sunday of the month at 10am Pacific
All sessions are recorded. Replays available in your private video library if you can't join live.
What it costs -- and what you're actually getting.
Two live Circles a month with me -- not a video library you'll forget the password to, but real time in the room, every month, all year. Held by a Master Circle Facilitator who's done this with women for years, so the room actually goes deep instead of staying in the small talk. The whole turning of the year, mapped, so you're building one practice instead of collecting scattered tips. Oracle readings, playlists, guidebooks, and a room of women a message away when the week gets heavy.
The Hearth is $77 a month
or
$555 for an entire year of the wheel
Here's the honest math: $77 is less than two nights out with the women you love. Two date nights you'd book without a second thought -- the good dinner, the real laughter, the leaving-lighter-than-you-came. Except this warmth doesn't end when the check comes, and you leave with your own fire fully tended.
You can join for one month at a time. But here's what I've watched: the women this changes are the ones who deeply commit to a practice throughout the whole year.
Fulfillment won't come after a single good night -- it's a rhythm. Give it the turning of the seasons, and it stops being something you visit and becomes something you're built from.
Come once, and you'll understand why the
women at my fires don't leave.
Why I can help.
The certifications, since they count: Master Circle Facilitator, Intuitive Rebirth practitioner, Holistic Life Coach, and Master Food Preserver (yes, that's real -- I like my magic and my mason jars).
But that's not why you'd trust me with your fire.
When I was nineteen, I moved to France to be a nanny -- no French, no plan, just a felt yes and three children who needed someone to take care of them. Their mother was deep in a depression she couldn't climb out of, and somewhere between the meals I cooked and the days I quietly held together, the oldest boy -- fifteen -- said something I've never forgotten: "Having you here is the first time I feel like I have a real mom."
No training, no framework -- nineteen years old. But I know now what he was telling me -- that I'd made that house feel safe. That I could walk into a room full of quiet suffering and, without anyone asking, make it a place where people could finally exhale.
I've done that my whole life; I just kept calling it other things. A private dining business with my husband, where the food was only ever the doorway to real people discovering real things about themselves and each other. Wine education, translating what you taste into what you feel.
And finally Circle facilitation -- where it all clicked into one thing: I don't perform sanctuary. I create it. I always have.
I can hold the hard things, not just because I've trained to, but because I've lived them -- I've buried grandparents, an uncle, a cousin -- and my younger brother; survived a marriage that left bruises; been through bankruptcy and a life so unrooted I moved every two or three years for as long as I can remember.
So when you bring the heavy thing, I won't flinch. I'm trauma-informed, I've been on the floor, and I know the way back up.
That's what The Hearth is: Not to fix you -- you were never broken. Just to help you feel, maybe for the first time in a long time, completely at home being exactly who you are.
What my sisters have to say.
This is a live experience and all sales are final. If you show up and do the work, this will change something in you. I'm that confident. See you inside.