Aloha, Dear One!

I am Brooke—quarter Japanese, quarter Polish, half Swedish, and wholly devoted to walking a path of healing, creativity, and reverence for Mother Earth. I live in Charlotte, NC with my husband, Christopher—an extraordinary musician and teacher. I help "wifeager" his business noyamountainmusic.com My son, Gryphon, who continues to be one of my greatest teachers and lights up my world every single day, goes to school at UNC Chapel Hill. When I’m not working, you’ll often find me in the garden, cooking nourishing food, traveling near and far, or dancing—especially to my favorite band, Phish, who I’ve been joyfully seeing live since 1993. My life has been a weaving of joy and grief, light and shadow. Losing my mother to cancer at 19 set me on a lifelong search for meaning and healing. Over the years, I have discovered that my greatest superpowers are seeing the good, letting go, and alchemizing pain into wisdom. Movement was my first healing doorway. In 2005, after a car accident led me to yoga, I stepped onto the mat and felt an overwhelming sense of coming home to myself. What began as a practice for my body quickly became a practice for my soul, leading me into teaching and eventually into guiding teacher trainings and weaving movement with shamanism. 

 

In 2014, another great door opened when I traveled to Peru for the first time to experience plant medicine in the Amazon. That initiation activated a lifelong love affair with the plant kingdom. Since then, I have returned many times, apprenticing through dietas and ceremony. Alongside my husband, I am committed to the study of Shipibo curanderismo, learning directly from the plants themselves and from our beloved teacher, Papa Gilberto. My work has continued to expand through many other healing lineages—trauma-informed plant medicine facilitation, somatic psychedelic integration, feminine embodiment, end-of-life doula work, and alchemical herbalism.

 

Each path has been a stone on the spiral journey of remembering wholeness. For much of my life, I was afraid of my own voice, though I longed to sing. It has been the plants—and my beloved Christopher—who helped me open my throat and reconcile that fear. Now, song and sound are a liberating part of my healing and my offering, a reminder that what we resist is often the very medicine we most need.

At the heart of it all, I know I am here to serve: to hold sacred space for others, to walk with people through shadow and light, to honor the Earth as teacher, and to keep learning, listening, and loving—one sacred step at a time.