about MaryFrances

A woman in a colorful dress enjoys a sunny day by the rocky coastline.

Hello, I'm MaryFrances

I live on a bay where whales come to birth their young.

Each year they arrive in the cool months, in the protected waters just beyond my window, and they teach their calves how to surface — how to breach, how to breathe, how to be.

I did not come here for the whales. But I have come to understand that I was brought here — by something that knew before I did.

Footprints on a sandy beach near the water's edge.

The Driver's Seat

I did not arrive to this beach life unscathed.

Over the years, I lived through nine head-on car crashes — in the passenger seat, every single time. After the most devastating of them, broken open in every way a woman can be, I made a quiet decision that changed everything: I would get into the driver's seat of my own life.

It was in that long season of healing that CranioSacral therapy found me.

The work was so quietly profound — so far beyond anything I had known in all my years of clinical nursing — that it healed me. And then I had no choice but to learn it myself.

This, I have come to see, is the pattern of my whole life: I become the medicine that saved me.

A stack of smooth stones balanced on a pebble-covered beach at sunset.

What the Body Knows

I have been a Registered Nurse for over four decades.

I am not the kind of nurse who follows the protocol without question. I am the kind who has always known that the body holds an intelligence far deeper than any chart — a sovereign wisdom waiting only to be heard.

I am a holistic nurse. A CranioSacral Therapist. A certified sex coach. A student of numerology and the soul's blueprint.

Where science meets soul — that is where I live.

But beneath every title, this is the truest thing:

I am a woman of deep listening.

A lifelong student of the body, of sensation, of pleasure, of grief, and of the quiet wisdom that lives in the marrow and waits to be witnessed.

The Sound That Cracked Me Open

In the autumn of 2021, I sat through a season of sound therapy — sessions to tend the aftermath of too many concussions.

And then one day, mid-October, in the middle of one of those sessions, something broke open in me. A brilliant white light — lit up my arms, expanding through my heart — that I still cannot fully put into words.

I only know, with spontaneous tears streaming down my cheeks that I left that room a different woman.

The life I had been living no longer fit. And a voice I could no longer ignore said, simply: go.

So I did.

The Whim and the Prayer

On November 27th, 2021 — with no plan, no language, no savings, and no one waiting on the other side — I left Canada and landed on the Pacific coast of Mexico.

On little more than a whim and a prayer.

I am, by nature, a bit of a rebel. I tend to leap off cliffs that everyone else calls reckless — trusting that the soul knows something the mind cannot yet see.

It usually does.

What I Found Here

I did not come to Mexico to build a business.

I came to find myself . Or — perhaps to lose the self I had outgrown.

In the years that followed, I walked the beach for hours.

To pray.

To let go.

To listen for the truth of who I am beneath all I had been.

I studied. I trained.

I sat with sacred medicine myself — long before I ever held the space for another.

I did not become a guide by reading about it.

I became a guide by living it — by walking, again and again, the very path I now walk beside you.

Sacred Medicine, and the Naming

I am, today, a Sacred Medicine Guide.

I hold women through intentional, sacred journeys — not to fix them, because nothing in them is broken — but to witness them as they remember who they have always been.

This is the work I was made for.

I did not invent it. It was named to me, in the deepest journey of my own becoming. And I have never been more certain of anything in my life.

Why Women Trust Me

If there is one thing women tell me, again and again, it is this: they trust me before they fully understand why.

I have come to believe it is because I am not asking them to go anywhere I have not already been.

I have met the undertow. I have been broken open, and I have gathered myself back together. I have walked through the dark waters — and I am still here.

More alive, more myself, than I have ever been.

I do not stand above you as a guru.