I’ve been fortunate to travel — sometimes in luxury, sometimes on a shoestring — across Europe, North Africa, North and Latin America, and the Caribbean. I’ve experienced writing retreats, healing workshops, cruises, and all kinds of accommodations, from elegant hotels to humble hostels. And through it all, what stayed with me wasn’t the thread count or the view — it was how I felt. Did the people holding the space make me feel welcome? Did I feel respected, truly seen? Did the experience match the care and intention I hoped for?

As someone who was adopted as a baby, I’ve always been attuned to the importance of belonging — of feeling safe, valued, and understood. Traveling taught me to listen deeply, to move with humility and curiosity, and to hold a deep respect for the richness of cultures not my own. That’s the energy I want to bring into this space — one of warmth, integrity, and genuine care for each person’s unique story and presence.

I’ve lived in five countries for extended periods — born in the UK, then calling Spain, Morocco, Canada, and now the U.S. home. I’ve spent most of my life far from any original sense of “home,” learning instead to find it in people, in moments, and often — in the shared quiet and vulnerability of a writing space. Again and again, it’s been in those rooms — with pens moving, hearts open — where I’ve found my people. A place to lay down the armor. A place where vulnerability wasn’t something to be ashamed of, but a doorway to connection. That’s the kind of space I want to cultivate here.

I’m not a master or a guru. I’m not a spiritual teacher. I don’t have the answers for saving a marriage or moving through healing without ever being triggered. We’re all on a journey, each of us carrying wounds to tend to and stories that have shaped us.

What I am is a dreamer, a romantic, and someone who listens without judgment — because I’ve lived, I’ve stumbled, I’ve loved deeply, and I’ve been hurt. I’m turning a life of experience into a life of purpose and power. Like many, I’ve wrestled with the feeling of being either too much or not enough. Maybe you can relate.

I’m also a proud mother of two extraordinary children, who remind me daily what it means to show up with heart, honesty, and grace. Motherhood has been the most humbling and expansive experience of all — stretching my capacity to love, to nurture, to witness. It’s taught me how to hold space for both the mess and the magic. I bring that maternal spirit into this retreat: steady, loving, present. The kind of energy that honors your vulnerability, without asking you to rush through it.

This retreat isn’t about fixing anything. It’s about offering you a warm, safe, and cozy cabin where you can simply be yourself — all of yourself. Everything you bring is welcome here, and will be held with compassion.

People-pleasing hasn’t always served me well, but it’s certainly made me a thoughtful and devoted host. My genuine wish is to create your dream writing retreat — each gentle day designed to nourish your creative soul. Think of me as your fairy godmother, quietly working in the background to make you feel seen, supported, and inspired.

If I can’t personally offer what you need, I’ll hold space with you as you move through it — or I’ll connect you with someone who can. My intention is that you leave here feeling held — in your truth, in your process, and in the unwavering belief that your voice matters. Because it does. And I, for one, cannot wait to hear your story.

With love, Christina