Becoming the Scribe

I grew up the eighth of nine children, first on the South Shore of Long Island and later in Southeast Florida.

Our home was a lively mix of love, laughter, strong opinions, clashing personalities, and a lot of voices competing to be heard. Being one of nine was joyful and loud, and at times painful in its chaos.

Looking back, I can see that it was also a kind of training ground for the work I do today.

There were always so many voices. So many stories. So many threads.

Part of growing up was learning how to listen among all of them, how to recognize which thread belonged to whom, and eventually, how to identify and follow the one that was mine.

I haven’t always done that perfectly. Sometimes I still don’t.

It has taken years of reflection, personal work, writing, and lived experience to understand more fully who I am and where I come from. I remain deeply grateful for the family that shaped me and for everything, beautiful and difficult, that taught me how much can live beneath the surface of a story.

And beneath all of it, there was love.

Complicated sometimes. Imperfect often. But present.

That has become another recurring thread in my life and work: love.

I believe love is the most powerful energy in the world. It runs through what I create, how I listen, the relationships I value, the stories I am drawn to, and ultimately who I am.

I have always loved a good story.

As a child, stories carried me beyond the limits of my immediate world into something larger and more possible. Over time, I began to wonder what might happen if I listened to my own life with that same curiosity.

That question has followed me through nearly four decades of work in healthcare, mental health, coaching, writing, storytelling, and personal exploration.

Again and again, I have seen how much can happen when someone is given the space to speak and the experience of being deeply listened to.

Listen deeply. Follow what emerges. Honor what matters.

That understanding is at the heart of One Story, whether I am listening to one person share the memories of their own life through One Story, Your Voice, listening across many perspectives through One Story, Many Voices, or holding space for something someone wants to leave behind through One Story, A Lasting Message.

In each, I am listening for the threads.

What keeps appearing? What carries feeling? What detail opens something larger? What story is asking to be followed?

And very often, somewhere within those threads, there is love.

Love for a parent. A partner. A friend. A child. A place. A life that was lived. Someone who is gone. Someone who is still here. Sometimes even the gradual learning of how to love ourselves.

The word Scribe has been in my sphere for a long time, long before I understood that I would eventually step into that role myself.

And now I have.

I am the Scribe.

This work is more than something I do. It is one of the places I feel most grounded and most connected to myself. Listening for the story brings me into the energy of the Scribe: present, attentive, curious, and willing to follow what emerges without needing to know beforehand where it will lead.

That same thread runs through the other bodies of work I have created: Voices That Matter — The Scribe Project, The Elimination Code, and the Lion’s Gate Oracle.

The forms are different, but something essential remains the same.

Listening closely. Following what emerges. Paying attention to what matters. Creating space for greater clarity, meaning, connection, remembering and love.

Writing has become one of the ways I make sense of my own life and lineage. Storytelling allows me to witness and preserve the lives of others. Coaching offers another way to help people recognize the patterns and stories shaping their lives and find their own thread again. My work with the Lion’s Gate Oracle brings reflection, symbolism, the natural world, and teachings gathered through years of study and lived experience into that same exploration.

At the center of all of it is presence.

And at the center of presence, for me, is love.

Not love as sentiment or something idealized, but love as a powerful force of connection, truth, courage, belonging, remembrance, and relationship.

It is the energy I return to again and again. It’s the current running through my work and my life. Honestly it is at the center of what I do and who I am.

I understand storytelling not as performance or explanation, but as a way of remembering, witnessing, listening, loving, and making meaning.

Perhaps being the eighth of nine taught me something I couldn’t have known at the time:

Among all the voices and all the threads, there is a story asking to be heard.

My work is to listen for it. And, for those times I don’t remember I have learned to get quiet and be curious enough to listen for the love that lives within it all.

This is storytelling, held in presence and love, as medicine.