
How do you summarize 58 years of life? Maybe in moments, memories, people, trials, laughter, and the joys that shape us.
I grew up surrounded by the quiet strength of community. My grandparents embodied it, and when my parents moved to a city where they knew almost no one, they built it from scratch.
Decades later, that same circle of friends still gathers around tables to share meals, stories, and life.
I didn’t know it then, but those early experiences were teaching me something essential:
connection is how we stay human.
When I was eight, after the loss of my grandmother, my mom handed me a small orange book on death and dying ̶ written for children, with questions and space to write. That book became my first
journal and my introduction to self-enquiry. I didn’t realize it then, but it would become a lifelong practice: writing my way through life, listening inward, and learning to trust the quiet wisdom that
rises when we slow down.
I was also lucky to have wise elders who shaped me. My grandmother, my great-aunt, and my grandfather with his peaceful, steady presence all taught me the sacredness of simply being with
someone ̶ listening without judgment, holding space with love, offering wisdom gently.
These early moments were my first circles.
At eighteen, I entered another circle ̶ a group therapy program for eating disorders. The work was deep and often dark, but the women in that room gave me something I have never forgotten:
the profound relief of knowing I wasn’t alone.
Their stories didn’t fix my life, but they changed me. They showed me the medicine of women’s voices and
the healing that begins when someone else speaks a truth you couldn’t say or didn’t recognize until you heard it aloud.
Over the next decades, I raised three children, navigated divorce, and spent more than twenty years working in sales and IT recruitment. That career allowed me to provide for my family, and I loved the parts that connected me to people ̶ learning what companies were building, understanding how leaders shaped their teams, and helping individuals find meaningful work.
But the pace, pressure, and constant urgency of corporate life no longer resonate with me.
The hustle that once felt necessary is now depleting. My body, my energy, and my values have all been telling me the same thing:
there has to be another way.
Today, I am in my own season of transition. With my children grown and my home becoming quieter, I’m learning to ask myself a question I’ve postponed for decades:
What do I want?
Some days the answer feels close; other days it slips away. There are literal and figurative empty rooms in my life now ̶ spaces waiting to be reclaimed by who I am becoming. Here’s what I do know: I want to create what I’ve always longed for. A place for women to gather,
feel seen, and reconnect with themselves ̶ not alone, but together.
That longing is what brought Crone Magic to life.
Crone Magic is a return to the old ways ̶ to intergenerational wisdom, to honouring elders, to welcoming younger women with open arms. It is a space where no one leads from above. We walk beside each other. Wisdom rises not because someone teaches it, but because gathering awakens what has been waiting inside us.
My own values - peace, freedom, health, compassion, and curiosity ̶ guide everything I create. My spiritual life informs me quietly, like breath, but no one needs to share my beliefs to belong here.
Every woman’s path is welcome.
In the circles I hold, my hope is simple: that joy comes alive in you, that connection sparks something
true, and that witnessing the wisdom in others helps you recognize the wisdom rising in yourself.
If you feel the pull to reconnect ̶ with yourself, with other women, or with something steadier beneath the noise of life ̶ you are already part of this community.
Welcome . I’m so glad you’re here.
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