Orienting our selves in place and time — reclaiming our kinship with all that is

The land is calling us back.

It's time to re-root ourselves — to reroute ourselves — to recalibrate.

We're sick of feeling fragmented and frazzled, disoriented and discouraged, exhausted and enraged.

And yet it's all so incredibly overwhelming that we feel paralyzed, or numb, or are ready to collapse from burnout because we feel like we're the only ones actually trying to do the work.

It’s no accident.

We've been conditioned to feel separate — from creation, from each other, from ourselves. From the soil under our feet and the ancestors who knew it intimately. From the languages our original homelands gave us, from the rhythms of time tracked by the stars.

This disconnection isn't a personal failing. It's systemic. Intentional. And goes generations deep.

But, somehow, we remember — we are still connected.

The trick is figuring out how to find our way back.

Knowing Our Place is a practice of orientation — of locating ourselves in history, in cultural landscapes and ecosystems, in our lineage, in time. Not returning to some idyllic past. Not appropriating traditions without permission. Just learning, slowly and honestly, to recognize our place in the web of creation — and to feel what it means to truly relate.

Kiki, a woman wearing glasses, with brown skin and tightly coiled salt-and-pepper hair, stands smiling on a wooded trail with a lush green forest and ferns behind her. She's wearing a pink and green tie-dye tank top dress and a multicolored headband holds her hair back away from her face

Hi! I’m Kiki

I am a guide, a teacher, a healer, an earth tender.

Knowing Our Place is rooted in cultural landscape history, architectural history and design, indigenous energy medicine and language reclamation, and my lived experience as a descendant of stolen peoples and peoples of stolen lands, their enslavers and colonizers.

This work grew from a deep need to share the wisdom I've gathered through my own inner and outer explorations. My intention is to hold a space where we can do this excavation together, with honesty, curiosity, and the kind of compassion that makes hard things possible.

With me as your guide and companion — this is my journey too, fellow traveler — we'll navigate our way back to ayni — sacred reciprocity — with the land, with history, with time, and with ourselves.

Knowing Our Place is my sacred work.

You might be here because...

You feel the disconnect between the life you're living and something you can't quite name.

You're drawn to the land, to your ancestry, to understanding the power of language, to the cycles of the moon and earth — but you don't always know how to learn more and engage without feeling like an outsider or that you're "doing it wrong."

You suspect that what's missing isn't something you lost personally, rather something that was taken from many of us a long time ago.

You're not wrong, and in Knowing Our Place you won't be alone as you navigate your way back.

This work invites us to explore:

  • Our relationship with our Places

    The land we inhabit hold stories older than any history book. Learning to read a place — its layers, its scars, its gifts — changes how we understand our own story within it.

  • Our relationship with our Histories

    Every person, every family, every ecosystem has a history that's been shaped by place and the place has been shaped by those histories in return. When we root our stories in the land, we begin to see how they intersect, how they're woven together — and where we are located within them.

  • Our relationship with Language and Ways of Knowing

    The language we think in shapes what we're able to perceive. When we encounter other languages — especially those rooted in relationship with the living world — they open doors in us that we didn't know were closed.

  • Our relationship with Time

    What if we stopped measuring our lives in deadlines and started feeling it in seasons? In moon cycles? In the slow return of light? Reorienting to earth-based time isn't whimsical — it's a balm for our burnout.

  • Our relationship with our Selves

    Do you find yourself saying things like "I skipped lunch (yet again)," "No pain, no gain," or "I'll sleep when I'm dead?" Do you trust your instincts, or second-guess yourself half – or all – the time? Sacred reciprocity with others begins with sacred reciprocity with our selves.

Stay close.

This work unfolds the way all real things do — slowly, in layers, in relationship. If you'd like to follow along — essays, reflection prompts, invitations to gather — leave your name here.

Ready to begin?

Learn more about Kiki