During 2024, I spent much of my time nourishing four deeply integrated projects—my website, my book, Mortal Leader, and grief services for organisations. All of them are still unfinished, some more than others, but the website is ready to spread its wings and fly. Yay!

It’s been quite an extraordinary process, figuring out what services I most want to bring into the world. I know I have useful skills, knowledge, and competence—all that good stuff. But my lens on the world has changed so profoundly that it colours everything I see and consider essential.

As I began redefining my work, executive and team coaching and organisation development remained central, but I found myself drawn to organisations that were stuck—often because they had not fully attended to endings, transitions, and the inevitable grief that comes with them. Yet, how do you make that seem relevant? How do you create a compelling value proposition around endings, grief, and loss in a world where organisations still want to Grow! Expand! Increase profit! Gain market share!? Grief and loss aren’t exactly a sexy sales pitch.

So, for a good long while, I hibernated. I took on work that made sense or simply landed in my lap. I had conversations, listened, and paid attention. I did informational interviews to understand what’s important to leaders today. And honestly? Most of the time, it sounded like the same old story I heard ten years ago. On the surface, not much has changed.

And yet… beneath the corporate metrics and strategies, something different emerged when leaders spoke about their personal lives. What truly mattered to them? It wasn’t just growth in the traditional sense. It was about leaving a legacy. About making a meaningful contribution. About ensuring a healthy planet for future generations. About feeling complete at the end of a career—or even at the end of life, if our conversations went there.

These stories don’t always align seamlessly with traditional business objectives. But they can. Growth in these times doesn’t have to mean more—it can mean better. It can mean growth in connection, contribution, collaboration, and impact. It can mean expanding our definition of success beyond financial returns to include well-being, resilience, and regeneration. It can be about the triple bottom line—people, planet, and profit—not as a corporate buzzword but as a lived commitment.

As I’ve sat with this, I’ve noticed my own professional narrative shifting. It’s not about leaving behind the work I’ve done with grief and loss, but about widening the lens to include life.

For a long time, I was the “death, grief, and loss lady.” It made sense—my life had been shaped by profound losses, and where I could still find ways to contribute professionally, my work reflected that. I helped leaders, teams, and individuals navigate endings, grief, and change. Because grief is part of life, and loss is woven into every transition, personal or professional.

But something has shifted. Not in a way that erases those themes, but in a way that expands them.

It has taken time—years—to fully feel this shift in myself, to trust it, and to allow it to shape how I bring my work into the world. At first, it felt like a quiet undercurrent, something deep within me. And slowly, I began to notice what was drawing me out. I found myself speaking more about nature’s cycles—ongoing, never-ending. About the ways grief, if honoured, can compost into something fertile. About how endings aren’t just closures but also invitations into new ways of being.

I don’t want to be known only for working with loss. I am not a grief therapist. What I care about—what I have always cared about—is life. How we live. Fully. Deeply. With presence, wisdom, love, and courage.

My new website reflects this evolution. It still holds space for grief, but it also speaks to the richness of life, to cycles of change, to the possibilities that open up when we face our mortality and meet it with intention. There is still room for the difficult conversations and painful emotions—for grief, for the weight of endings—but also for the conversations about what comes after. About what is possible when we embrace life in all its fullness, knowing that it will end.

I see it in the work I am drawn to now, the ways I want to engage with leaders and teams. The questions I ask have shifted. They are no longer just about how we navigate loss, but about how we cultivate something meaningful in its wake. How we make choices that are rooted in what truly matters. How we live, love, and lead in ways that honour the impermanence of it all.

I will always be someone who walks alongside grief, both personally and professionally. But I am also someone who bursts with life. Someone who embraces the wholeness of it all—the beauty, the sorrow, the messiness, the love.

I’m still here for the hard conversations. But I am also here for the ones about renewal, about joy, about the courage it takes to live.

Welcome to my new website. Within it, you will find the full cycle of life.