About Me

Jessica holds a Bachelor’s Degree from Naropa University in Interdisciplinary Studies with a focus in Somatic Psychology and Environmental Studies. She graduated from the Brian Utting School of Massage in 2004. Her enthusiasm for the healing arts has taken her to Chaing Mai, Thailand where she received certification in Thai Massage. Upon return, she began a six-year mentorship with Yasuo Mori studying the traditional art of Shiatsu.

In 2010 she completed her Craniosacral certification with Pat O’Rourke, which was followed by one year as teacher assistant. In 2016, Jessica traveled to Belize to study with Rosita Arvigo, a traditional healer, practicing the art of Mayan Abdominal Massage. She is passionate about continuing education and has completed workshops in embodiment practices such as Hakomi and 5 Rhythms dance.

My Story

“I am an accumulation of my stories but it does not define or limit my potential. It helps me make sense of this human experience.”

My heart was listening from the beginning

Feeling the subtle vibrations of the earth beneath my small body. Listening to the wind caress the native grasses along the edge of our property. Experiencing small tugs in my heart watching the clouds shape shift. I lay there for hours watching a small lumberjack wind chime saw away with every gust of wind. Other hours were spent riding my horse, so small I fit along the length of her back. My feet tangled in her mane. My head would rise and fall with every step of her powerful hind legs.

Next was the magic of the Pacific Northwest. My feet, a little bigger now, would patter along ground that would bounce like a stage, thick with layers pine needles and wet decay. The occasional sunburst would pull me like a magnet into its warmth. Walking slowly home from school I would suck the sweet nectar from red clovers consistently wearing a berry-stained shirt.

This was the wisdom of being a young child.

My household, like most, was far less than ideal. My parents, both trauma survivors, raised us a radical Christian-inspired religion. This religion taught me not to trust my intuition, that my body was a place of sin, and my mind would inevitably fool me. All self-power was stripped, making me vulnerable to the infiltration of an outside belief system. I spent years in confusion and loneliness.

It’s been a journey of remembering.

Choosing to discover my own truth left me disassociated from my parents and sisters. In retrospect I know I had to swing to the opposite side of the pendulum in order to understand. Drugs, alcohol, and sex threw me into such darkness that once again I longed for a sense of innocence and purity. Time spent surfing the waves of the Oregon Coast and bellowing back and forth with elk in the North Cascades tugged at something lost. The cords that were built as a child became stronger and stronger until, once again, they served as an ally and internal resource.

There was something inside of me that still fought. I wanted to test the universe. I wanted to put myself in dangerous places to prove my survival instincts were still intact. I choose to travel alone for three months. My intuition had been turned against me as a child and I needed real situations to jump-start it.

Massage school was a remembering of how to receive touch. I lay on the table with tears streaming, on the verge of hyperventilating and shaking in fear. My trusted teacher held my diaphragm with such ease I felt the trauma work it’s way out of my system. I spent years with my mentor furthering these types of experiences. Years of betrayal unwound through the generosity and kindness of one man. He taught me to slow down and feel. Feel myself, feel another’s system, and feel the space that exists between one another.

Remember that time you were not afraid to die?

My soul has known all along how to heal. It leads me to places where I can continue to gather my parts and remember what it feels like to be free. Naropa University was a place I reclaimed of my spirituality. I remember once I had a relationship with something that felt real, omnipresent… like love. Something that was bigger than me. This is the remembering. I remember somewhere out there that I’m not alone regardless if anyone is around. This is the work. And, it will continue…