Dear reader,
If you have found your way here, something is already stirring. Perhaps it is a question about how you eat, or how you feel, or how you want to live. Perhaps it is quieter than that — just a sense that there might be a gentler, more joyful way through.
I know that feeling. It is the feeling that changed my life more than twenty years ago, when I first began eating raw and plant-based foods. I was living in Michigan, as I still do, and something in that simple change — the crispness of a morning apple, the colors of an uncooked meal, the energy that began to move through me — told me I had been missing something fundamental about what it means to be well.
"Nature does not hurry, and yet everything gets done. I have spent two decades trying to live as though I actually believe that."
That was the beginning, but only the beginning. Over the years, I discovered that nourishing the body was inseparable from nourishing the heart and spirit. I began to explore emotional resilience — the practice of meeting our difficult feelings not with resistance but with curiosity and compassion. I learned that grief, fear, and uncertainty are not enemies to defeat but teachers to sit with. And I found that the natural world, which I had always loved, was the most patient and generous teacher of all.
Today, my practice — Living Heart — weaves these three threads together. I work with people one-on-one as a wellness coach, offering guidance on raw vegan nutrition, emotional resilience, and the quiet art of living in rhythm with nature. I write books and a weekly newsletter that reach over a thousand readers. And I host workshops and gatherings, both in Michigan and online, where people can explore these ideas in community.
"I do not have a method. I have a practice, a presence, and a deep trust that the body and heart know their way home when we stop interfering."
I am not a doctor or a therapist. I am a person who has lived this way for a long time, who has made every mistake, who has learned through seasons of both difficulty and extraordinary joy. What I offer is the honesty of that experience, the warmth of genuine care, and a quiet conviction that healing is not something we achieve but something we allow.
Michigan is my home — its lakes, its forests, its long winters and luminous summers. This land shapes my work in ways I am still discovering. If you are here, wherever "here" is for you, I am glad. And if something in these words has spoken to you, I hope you will reach out.
With warmth and gratitude,
Ellen