I learned rhythm from cows, grief from goats, and silence from the woods. There was no rush, no performance, just life - raw, cyclical, and full of mess and meaning. That beginning taught me to pay attention to what wasn't being said in animals, weather, and silences. It's what I've been doing ever since.
I wasn't just curious. I was called into transpersonal psychology, into the depth work that most disciplines don't quite have language for, into walking with people through the moments where a life stops fitting and something else begins to speak.
With a PhD and a wide-open heart, I spent twenty years in studio offices in Vancouver walking with people through their losses, awakenings, and quiet reorganizings. And then life, as it does, asked me to walk through my own.
The losses came one after the other — four siblings, two parents, and my son. Grief didn't knock politely. It tore through the house and left everything humming with absence. But instead of closing the book, I listened harder. What is this pain trying to show me? What do I carry forward? Who do I become now?
where i am
These days, I live on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia with my husband, three Indian Runner ducks, and Jack, our cat. And I still do what I've always done. I read what's happening, track patterns across time, and translate what your life is trying to say.
My work is less a profession and more a devotion. Every ending I've survived, every truth I've remembered, and every wild pattern I've followed has led me here to helping you feel less alone inside your own story, and to helping you hear what's been waiting underneath the noise.
Life isn't random. It's speaking a language you've been fluent in for longer than you know. Sometimes what you need is someone who can help you hear yourself.
Every pattern I've followed, loss I've survived, and person I've spoken with has sharpened my ability to read what's happening in another life, the shape underneath the story, and the meaning underneath the moment.
My work sits at the intersection of psychology and something older. Thirty-five-plus years of transpersonal training on one side. On the other, the kind of listening that only comes from having lived through what you're asking someone to walk through themselves.
I don't have a method. I have attention, memory, and a willingness to say what I see, even when it's not what you thought you were looking for.
What I'm
loving
Right now, I'm savouring the quiet mornings with our ever-watchful Runner ducks, our cat, Jack, the grounding pulse of our garden's rhythms, and those moments when a client suddenly sees the design in what they thought was only chaos. Those moments still take my breath.
What I'm
learning
I'm paying attention right now to how personal loss and larger cultural shifts move in tandem — how the patterns that show up in one person's life often show up in the collective around the same time. I'm also still learning how much I don't know about timing. Especially when something cracks open unexpectedly.
What I'm
not about
I don’t do spiritual shortcuts, bypassing, or one-size-fits-all answers. I won’t pretend to fix what broke. But I will help you read what's actually there.
This isn’t about erasing your past or rushing your healing. It’s about walking with the ache until it reshapes you.
what I
believe
I believe grief is not an interruption of your story, but the story, shifting shape. Every unravelling has something to teach. Timing isn't random, and meaning is never far from pain. What you've felt but haven't found language for is still there, waiting. Your life has never stopped speaking to you.
Find me
@drjonni
If something's been working on you, you're in the right place. This is where what you're carrying gets read for what it actually is, where you don't have to translate yourself to be understood.
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