Sheri's Place

12/24/2025

As I sip coffee looking out the window at the snow falling with the company of a beautifully red pine grosbeak my mind wonders.

Reflecting on the stillness of the season. It's not sadness or grief, it's the silence of the million ways life has changed, the millions of memories that only play for me.

The witness of life, the joy and the loss, perhaps what happens as you enter a new stage of life, the stage that begins the cycle as the old ends.

Christmas gaining new meaning as love encompasses it all, a witness to those who hurt, those who celebrate and there you are, somewhere in between.

Life through two panes where Merry Christmas holds both joy and mourning and you love them both the same.

11/23/2025

Good Morning

I've been guide to offer a gathering.
A guidance that has rarely left me alone.

Winter months tend to bring more to the surface, be it the collective around Christmas or the stillness of winter, grief arrives heavier than in the previous months.

🌿So Without Further Ado The Offer:
Companioning hearts
An hour of gathering for the heavy heart.
You show up as you are; you can be grief heavy or just navigating the heaviness of how still it all seems.
A place to sip hot beverages and have conversation.
🌻In person looks like a hot cup of tea, a puzzle, a knitting project, and company with those who get it.
Online looks similar.
A moment of exhale.
A gentle tending of the heart.
An hour to share stories, struggles, laughs and tears.
A gathering for real humans, being.
I’ll be hosting in-person gatherings during the day, and online in the evenings, so you can join in whatever way feels most supportive.
If this is something that feels warm to the soul, let me know in the comments.
much love,
Sheri ❤

11/21/2025

This morning, as I was curled up in a chair, sipping a delightful cup of coffee, I allowed my thoughts space to breathe and wonder.

I noticed how the cold air has landed here in Alberta and with it somehow waking up every tired muscle, every tired thought, and every thread of grief, each taking its place within my body.

Not because I'm old, burned out, overwhelmed with sadness, or cannot handle life, but rather, the quiet listening to my body as it remembers the call inward.

My body has arrived at the threshold of the season. One foot in the ghost of harvest, fall leaves, and crisp mornings, and the other in the barren white landscape that glistens in the sun. The season when Earth herself says, 'I'm going to stop giving of myself; I'm going to rest awhile.'

A surrender to the stiffness of this new season as the threads of grief, love, and a cry for warmth carry us through.

A season that comes once every year, yet somehow many are still offended by its bitterness... and perhaps the ointment to soothe the season is found within the witness of earth.

11/05/2025

Advice on Caring for those we know...

Sometimes, when grief enters the room, people don’t know how to stand near it. They freeze, or say something shallow because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing. Sometimes it’s a Facebook comment instead of real connection.

Loss already feels hollow, and those moments amplify it — the moments when people who mattered to you can’t sit with you.

I’m not immune to this. Death and loss are awkward and uncomfortable because we can’t fix anything. But that doesn’t erase how hollow the silence feels. It doesn’t change the boundary of your dinner table or the meals you serve.

It hurts. It sucks. And it can complicate your loss.

So if you know someone who is more than an acquaintance or a friendly occasional face, do more than leave a comment on Facebook.
Show up.
Say the awkward thing.
Say, “I have no idea what to say, but I’m sorry.”

Because I promise — that is so much better than the screams of silence in a room where all that echoes is: your pain doesn’t matter to those you love.

In times of grief and loss, love and community matter the most. We are in the thick of the weeds, navigating a world we no longer recognize.

Death changes the landscape of your heart — and those who abandon you in it are changed too.

As I said, I’m not immune. We all have our lives, and we can become disconnected in this world of being forever connected.

That said — gosh, for the times I didn’t show up when it mattered, I’m so deeply sorry.

11/05/2025

Ember Session
Tomorrow night.
Energy healing under the full moon.

The energy is spectacular ✨️

You're invited to join...
https://share.google/Ir7EeOqBiSZIKdYl1

10/28/2025

If you ever find a photo of Lucy and me, it looks like this.

He’s either rubbing his face against mine or has his claws lovingly embedded in my skin.

His affection is… aggressive.

He knows I love him dearly.
I love all my pets — and most animals — but Lucy has a special place in my heart.

It’s evidenced by my willingness to let him maul me and rub into my face despite my allergies.
My face will be itchy, and I’ll feel like I’ve eaten hair for half the day… but the love is worth it.

Lucy — the dog I never knew I needed. 🤪

Some of you might remember he — yes, he — was found in a ditch as a baby, smaller than a drill battery, needing milk supplements just five years ago.
Lovingly named Toulouse.

If you look closely, despite his aggressively loving nature, he comes packed with heart — wearing a tear.

Is it from love unexpressed?
From the abandonment he once endured as a baby?
Or maybe, it’s simply the mark of a soul that loves — claws and all.

Perhaps it’s all of the above… and why he holds a special place in my heart,
as our souls can see the depths of each other.

🐾💜🐾💜🐾

I was telling a friend the other day that Zoom meetings should have photos of pets if the camera’s off — it would make everything softer.
So, in the spirit of pet love… tell me about yours. ❤️

10/26/2025

🍂 Companioning the Wounded and the Wild 🍂

A Seasonal Invitation into Presence and Healing

As we enter the water season of the medicine wheel — the time of harvest, reflection, and release — I open my calendar to in-person sessions and sacred digital gatherings.

This is a season that teaches us to honor what we’ve cultivated, to grieve what we’ve lost, and to gently prepare for the inward journey of winter.

✨ Offerings Now Available:

In-Person Sessions: Ground into the moment, share stories, pull cards, and reconnect with your truth.

S!P Happens a Digital Gathering: A sacred space to talk about life, spirit, and presence.

Distance Healing with the Moon: Align with lunar rhythms to receive energetic support and clarity.

I walk with those at the edge
— of life, of grief, of transformation — companioning the wounded and the wild with tenderness and truth.

📅 My calendar is now open. Reach out to schedule or learn more.

09/28/2025

A new favorite song added to my playlist..
Avi Kaplan "Song for the thankful"

A song I listen to as I feel into the moment, into what the self is holding. Breathing in peace, letting go and allowing the best me to come forward.

Life can feel crazy, be crazy and cause detachment, disappointment and dissociation.

In these moments "practice gratitude" is a phrase that has always irritated me. Sometimes life takes us to dark places where "practice gratitude" feels, no, is, insulting and invalidating.

So rather than journal a list of things I'm grateful for I listen to music.

Currently this song alongside my energy practice helps connect in and guide love, in all moments. But by golly when the world is noisy is my favorite time to sit with the trees and breathe.
This song helps.

Maybe it will help you too.
💜

Lyrics:
🎶
Goodbye darkness, hello to the light
Every morning is an end to a night
Every season is bound to bring a change
There's a new chance given every day
And it brings it back to me
Yeah, it brings it back to me
Cool rain water and a breeze on my skin
Bless the new air as I breathe it all in
Take it from me like a stream into the sea
Close my eyes and thank the wind and trees
'Cause they bring it back to me
Yeah, they bring it back to me
Mmm hmm hmm hmm
Goodbye evening, hello to the night
I'm not seein' the wrong from the right
Walkin' blindly on a path without an end
Then the morning comes and leads me out again
And it brings it all back to me
Yeah, it brings it all back to me
Mmm hmm hmm hmm

Stream/Buy "Song For The Thankful" here: https://found.ee/SongForTheThankful"Song For The Thankful" is written by Avi Kaplan.Produced by Tony Berg (Andrew Bi...

08/25/2025

A wise friend told me not too long ago to tap into the feeling of why

At first, I thought of course that's easy.  As I envisioned the serenity and peace of what a beautiful death feels like

Then, as I drove in silence, the unearthing began..

The remnants of the morning air feeling peaceful without you and the bolt of pain that hits at the realization of your absence and peace living together. 

The pendulum of longing and you feeling so incredibly far to knowing you're so close I can still feel your embrace.  

As I began walking the halls of the cross cancer institute, the memories of heartbreak, fear, and motherhood came alive within me.

Not just my own cancer journey, but more deeply that of the man who means the world to me. What it meant to walk alongside a pillar of strength as we faced uncertainty. 

What it means to love someone so deeply, to hold their babies in your arms as you look death in the eye. The way it etches your heart and changes the way you breathe.

How living alongside cancer and grief changes the very way in which you walk through life.

The pendulum of gratitude and anger who have now become the friends you walk through life with. The bittersweet journey of anticipatory loss.

The way the garden held more rage than God himself would know what to do with the injustice of a life with such profound love.  That very same love being what stitches your heart back together so you can still breathe, still love, and still live despite it all. 

This is the why... 

It's not the glorified light, peace, or healing... 

It's the depths of the storm one becomes lost in

It's the person who has the courage to meet you there, not to save you, nor to heal you, 

But to say, I see you. 
I know this road, and I'll be here with you.

08/23/2025

Ember Sessions with the black moon

Tonight @ 8:30pm

So many things can be healed in the dark.

I welcome you to the hearth

DM me to join ✨️

08/03/2025

Did you know I’m on Substack?

Social media runs on algorithms and quick hits—
but that’s never been the heart of Sheri’s Place.

If you’ve been with me through the dragon years, the doula becoming, the tender in-between...
you already know this space was never meant to be small.

Substack gives me room to breathe.
To write. To be real.

You can subscribe for free to receive new posts directly in your inbox.
I won’t flood you.
I’ll just be there—when there’s something true to share.

🕯️Come as you are
Share with your friends.
Grab a cup -
The fire awaits.

08/03/2025

Summer days mean that my role as a stay-at-home mom–entrepreneur is stretched.
That my days are deeply spent in the in-between. Like a grand game of pinball, as I oscillate from the deeply grounded parenting, errands, summer adventures, and the spiritual healing sessions, grief holding, space holding that is Sheri's Place.

It's a life I love and wouldn't have any other way. However, with all things, there are challenges. We don't live under unicorn farts here.

The challenge can be in finding a fleeting silent moment to reflect. To fit in adventures, soul work, and working out. But within this in-between is a beautiful opportunity to do things I normally wouldn't. You start to get creative on how to get s**t done.

It was 10pm. My workout waited. My steps were in the toilet because—hello, heat wave—I'm a puddle! So rather than force myself to run, I danced.

I was given the opportunity to feel my own embarrassment, my own shame around the way my body has carried life, but I still pushed through. Because deep inside, there was a voice that said, *remember... remember when we LOVED this?!*

And in that moment, the real safety of self showed up.
Not the mask of safety that trauma builds through rigidity.
The kind that cracks at the mold your body has asked you to stay in—
No, begs and forces you to stay in.

The cracks that shine the light to the real essence of you, despite the journey.
The kind of light that screams… **you're free.**

So you dance a little longer.
You feel the movement of your body, the safety in movement, in dorkiness, in the jiggles of stories told and untold.
The breath of freedom that pumps through your veins and reminds you:
You are alive.
And the music heals you in places you never knew you needed.

This is healing
This is sacred
This is life in the in-between.
—beyond a reiki session, therapy, or pumping iron to work it out (though all valid).