When I was little, my grandmother called me a heathen. Not because I followed the old religion — I didn’t — but because I wouldn’t sit quietly inside the safety she built.

I was restless. Wild with wonder. Hungry to see the world beyond her walls.
Because something in me refused to be tamed.

If you know that pull — that restless drum in your chest that won’t quiet until you’ve wandered far enough to see through other eyes, other traditions, other ways of being — then you already know why Heathen Street exists.

This is the result of over two decades of spiritual wandering. Of taking what fits and leaving the rest. My work is rooted in intuition, shaped by many modalities, and forged through years of learning the crafts my own was born from.

Your practice doesn’t have to fit a single box. You don’t have to follow a straight path.
If you’ve made it here, you belong here.