Coming Home: Why I’m called to offer this work now

There is a quiet joy stirring in my heart as I write this — a feeling of deep rightness and reverence. After many years of weaving, wandering, and slowly arriving more fully into my own body and truth, I’m so honoured to be offering this work into the world.

It’s the kind of work that doesn’t just come from training or knowledge, but from life — from walking through fire and still choosing to soften. From experiencing loss, rupture, disconnection — and discovering, through the breath and the body, that the path home was never outside of me.

This work saved me. It rooted me. It nourished parts of me I didn’t even know were longing to be seen. And now, I get to share that with other women — women who, like me, are ready to return to themselves.

Why I Love This Work

I love this work because it is honest. It meets you where you are. It’s not about fixing, forcing, or transcending — it’s about listening, allowing, and being. It honours the intelligence of the body, the truth of the moment, and the sacred rhythm of each person’s unique journey.

There’s something profoundly moving about witnessing a woman reconnect with herself — to see her drop from the mind into the body, to feel safety begin to emerge, to sense the deep wisdom that has always lived inside her. It’s humbling, it’s holy, and it’s everything I believe in.

What Brought Me Here

My path has been far from linear. It’s taken me through grief, identity loss, the collapse of life as I knew it. But through those thresholds, I found something quietly powerful: the breath, the body, and the capacity to feel without being overwhelmed. Somatic practices gave me a way to stay with myself — to hold the grief, to find ground again, to access resilience that didn’t come from bracing, but from presence.

Over the years, I’ve trained in multiple modalities — yoga, massage, breathwork, trauma-informed approaches — and each thread has deepened my relationship to this somatic path. But beyond the trainings, it’s been life itself that has taught me how to hold space, how to listen, and how to honour the sacred unfolding of the human experience, especially in female bodies.

A Living Tradition: The Roots and Richness of Somatic Work

The word soma comes from the Greek, meaning “the living body in its wholeness.” Somatic work, at its core, invites us to experience ourselves not as objects or machines, but as sensing, feeling, knowing beings.

While the term "somatics" became more widely known in the West in the 20th century through pioneers like Thomas Hanna, Moshe Feldenkrais, and Emilie Conrad, the truth is — somatic wisdom has always been with us. Indigenous cultures, traditional healing systems, and earth-based spiritualities have long known that the body holds memory, that breath is medicine, and that movement is a form of prayer.

Today, somatic work is as diverse as the bodies and stories that carry it. It might look like grounding practices to regulate the nervous system. It might be movement that invites expression and release. It can be breathwork, touch, stillness, sound, or a simple moment of feeling your feet on the Earth.

It can be fierce, gentle, erotic, grief-soaked, liberating — often all at once. And it can support us in countless ways: in healing trauma, building resilience, reconnecting with intuition, softening anxiety, enhancing creativity, navigating transitions, and remembering who we are beneath the noise of conditioning.

A Path of Returning

For me, somatic work is not a method. It’s a devotion — to being human, fully. It’s an act of resistance in a world that profits from our disconnection. It’s a love letter to the body, to the Earth, to the cycles we are part of. And it’s an invitation — to slow down, to listen deeply, to come home.

I’m so grateful to be here, to walk alongside other women on this path, and to open this space of reconnection and remembering.

If you’re feeling the call to return to yourself…To meet your body with kindness…To explore your inner world with curiosity and care…You are so welcome here.

This is just the beginning — and I can’t wait to share more with you soon.

With love and breath,

Minna