ABOUT

I sit with a familiar scene in my practice: a client asking for resources to understand Chinese medicine deeper. A book recommendation, perhaps, or a trusted website. Each time, I find myself searching for an answer that captures both the profound simplicity and technical sophistication of this medicine. How do you explain that we are nature, while also conveying the elegant complexity of this ancient medical system?

For over two decades, I've walked with this medicine – first as a seeker, then as a practitioner. In my early twenties, I found myself adrift, picking up pieces after profound trauma shattered my understanding of self. Like many, I wandered through the landscape of New Age spirituality, yoga, nutrition, and bodywork. What I was really searching for was an inner authority, a stable foundation on which to rebuild my sense of self.

Chinese medicine found me during this search. What captivated me wasn't just its healing potential, but its perspective: humans as inseparable from nature, every aspect of health connected in an intricate dance. This resonated with something I already knew but couldn't articulate. It spoke to both the scientist and the seeker in me. The decision to pursue a master's degree in Chinese medicine followed naturally, an intensive three-year immersion that would transform my understanding of healing.

Now, seventeen years into clinical practice at Stillpoint Healing Center, I've witnessed countless transformations that mirror my own journey. Each treatment weaves together ancient wisdom with modern understanding, honoring both the scientific foundations and profound traditional insights that make this medicine so powerful. What continues to amaze me is how healing becomes inevitable when we align with nature's processes rather than fight against them.

Yet I feel called to do more. The questions from clients, friends, and family have awakened something in me – a desire to transform the walls around my private practice into a permeable, living membrane. To add my voice to the conversation about healing and health, not just through individual treatments, but through sharing these profound insights more broadly.

My hope is to illuminate the energy concepts of Chinese medicine in ways that make them tangible, showing how they explain the origin of illness, progression of disease, and the healing process. Perhaps through this understanding, we can help Western medicine evolve beyond pure reductionism into a more holistic approach. This isn't about replacing one system with another, but rather about building bridges between ways of knowing.

This calling comes from a deeper place – my evolving capacity for compassion and empathy, born from my own healing journey. I've found that place within myself that is whole, that was never broken, that is already healed that I return to over and over. I consider myself a journey woman, always learning, always dedicated yet not a master. I speak as a fellow traveler. I want to help others find that same truth within themselves while remaining vigilant on this path until the end.

As I step into this new chapter of sharing, I carry with me every lesson, every healing, every moment of transformation I've witnessed in my practice. This is more than just information to be passed on – its wisdom earned through experience, both personal and professional.

I invite you to join me on this exploration. Together, we'll discover how the ancient insights of Chinese medicine can illuminate our modern understanding of health, healing, and what it means to be whole.

I’ve been fascinated by the body’s ability to heal itself for as long as I can remember. At eight years old, I watched in awe as a small cut on my hand closed, wondering how this miraculous fluid—blood—could carry life through me. That early curiosity never faded; it deepened into a lifelong search for the fundamental principles that govern healing.

In college, I sought to understand the world through two seemingly different lenses: chemistry and philosophy. Chemistry explained the invisible forces shaping our physical world, while philosophy explored the first principles underlying thought and logic. Both disciplines asked the same essential question: What are the foundational truths upon which everything else is built? I wondered how these ways of thinking could be applied to medicine—not just to treat disease, but to understand health in its entirety.

Medical school seemed like the natural next step. Drawn to the interconnectedness of the human body, I chose internal medicine. I didn’t want to limit my focus to a single organ or specialty. Yet when I entered residency at UCSF, I encountered a stark contradiction: despite the extraordinary tools of modern medicine, patients struggled to access quality care, and even when they did, they often felt lost in a fragmented system. How could a society that spent so much on healthcare make it so difficult for people to actually receive it?

I turned to systems thinking, exploring how healthcare delivery could be improved through technology, policy, and business innovation. This led me to a dual path—pursuing an MBA at Wharton while training as an oncologist at the University of Pennsylvania. I wanted to understand healthcare from every angle: the biology of cancer at the molecular level and the broader forces shaping medical care. If we could untangle the complexities of the system, surely we could create a model that truly served patients.

But medicine is not just about access, and healing is not just about eliminating disease. As I worked with cancer patients, I saw a troubling pattern: even when we successfully treated the disease, patients often remained unwell. Fatigue, pain, neuropathy—lingering symptoms that medicine had no good answers for. Beyond the physical, there was something deeper: a profound alienation. The medical system, in its pursuit of precision, had fragmented patients into body parts, lab values, and diagnoses. They were seen, but not whole.

This realization led me to integrative medicine. At Thomas Jefferson University, I trained in a pioneering fellowship that examined healing through a broader lens, incorporating nutrition, mind-body medicine, and traditional healing systems. Then came a pivotal moment: shadowing a physician practicing classical Chinese medicine. I had dismissed Chinese medicine before, assuming it was an outdated framework overshadowed by modern science. But what I discovered was a system as intricate as it was intuitive—one that recognized our connection to nature and the dynamic flow of life within us.

It was a revelation. Modern medicine seeks to control, fix, and fight disease. Chinese medicine asks a different question: How do we restore balance? These two perspectives are not opposing forces but complementary ones—each offering invaluable insights when applied in the right context.

At its core, all medicine rests on first principles. Western medicine is built upon cellular biology and reductionism; Chinese medicine, on the flow of qi and the balance of opposites. But beneath these frameworks lies an even deeper truth: we are not separate from nature—we are nature. Healing happens when we remember this.

Today, my clinical work is dedicated to helping people navigate complex and chronic conditions through an approach rooted in first principles and systems thinking. True healing isn’t about eradicating every symptom or achieving a perfect state of health. It’s about restoring harmony—within the body, within our environment, and within ourselves. Through a synthesis of modern medical science and the wisdom of traditional healing systems, we can shift from fear and fragmentation to connection and wholeness.

The body has always known how to heal. Our task is to listen.