How We Work Together

Three ways in, depending on your season and how much time and depth you're looking for right now.

1:1 Coaching: In the fullness of time cycle

Weekly or biweekly sessions that build over time. This is the option for people who want to actually live the full cycle — not rush through one season to force the next.

60-minute sessions, video or in-person, in packages of 3-10 or more

A clear goal for the arc of our work together

Practices between sessions, sized to whatever season you're actually in

[ Ask about 1:1 coaching ]

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet


The Intensive: For the season you're stuck in

A single, unhurried intensive session for the season you've been circling for months without moving through. Maybe it’s a long winter you need to commune with, or a stalled spring or a summer you're grieving the end of.

2 to 4 hour container, your choice

Built around one clear outcome

A written recap and next steps to take home

[ Ask about Intensives ]

Yoga Frogs, by Ding Hu Art

Couples Coaching: For two people, Two seasons

For two people who are often in different seasons at the same time, perhaps one in summer, one in winter, and want real clarity on that, not a referee and not someone promising to fix it. We look at what's actually happening underneath the mismatch, together.

Joint sessions, 90 minutes

Clarity on your shared “why,” your valued directions that give you meaning, and lessening focus on your conflicts.

A shared language for naming which season each of you is in.

[ Ask about couples coaching ]

“Because in trying to articulate what, perhaps, joy is, it has occurred to me that among other things—the trees and the mushrooms have shown me this—joy is the mostly invisible, the underground union between us, you and me, which is, among other things, the great fact of our life and the lives of everyone and thing we love going away. If we sink a spoon into that fact, into the duff between us, we will find it teeming. It will look like all the books ever written. It will look like all the nerves in a body. We might call it sorrow, but we might call it a union, one that, once we notice it, once we bring it into the light, might become flower and food. Might be joy.”


― Ross Gay, The Book of Delights: Essays