
A Season of Tending
For when one conversation opened a door you're not ready to walk through alone.
If you're reading this, we've probably already talked in a Threshold Session.
If not, that's a good place to start.
You know that some things don't resolve in ninety minutes.
Like our bodies, they keep changing shape the longer you live with them.
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Which means the thing you were doing 3 years ago might not be working now. Or the language you've been using to describe your work might not fit anymore. An idea you've been thinking about for months now won't leave you alone. Your health has changed and now your life has to follow suit.
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This is for that.
For the unfinished thing. The unknown thing. The new thing emerging.
What this is for...
the transition that takes its dear, sweet time
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the decision you can't seem to make
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the book you started on vacation in Costa Rica that's been sitting like an overripe banana on your desk for three months
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the business that's becoming something different
the life that's asking to be lived before you've figured out how to explain it.

What unfolds over a season...

Early on, we find the story. Not your résumé, and not a diagnosis — the older pattern running underneath whatever brought you here.
Sometimes it's a story that's been circling humans for a couple thousand years, that turns out to be yours too. Sometimes it's simpler than that. Either way, once it's named, it becomes something we can actually work with.
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We meet for a season — three months, twice a month, seventy minutes at a time. We'll stay connected between sessions through email. Because when something cracks open on a Tuesday, you shouldn't have to wait two weeks to do something with it.
Some sessions are totally practical:
we'll write your About page​
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work through a decision
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practice the conversation you've been dreading
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work on your book, class, or project instead of just talking about it​​
Some seasons call for something deeper
exploring a dream that delivered a powerful but mysterious message​
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making sense of coincidences that keep returning until you're finally willing to pay attention​ ​
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tending something you've spent years explaining away because someone once told you it didn't mean anything.​​
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Nothing is too small, or too strange.
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Your life is one river — the practical and the symbolic, the ordinary and the sacred, all moving through the same current, none of it separate from the rest.
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We follow what's alive. Not what's next on some list.

Why a season?
One Threshold Session can change how you see things.
A season is what it takes to integrate, digest, and alchemize it into a new way of being — to see how it fits into your Tuesday afternoon, your hard conversation, your doctor's appointment, your half-finished manuscript. Your actual, ordinary life. Because that's where the real work happens.

What begins to change?
The pieces start finding each other. The voice of intuition and instinct gets turned up, as the noise of worry, looping thoughts, and overwhelm begins to settle. You stop trying to do everything at once, and start trusting what actually has energy for you.
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You'll have written reflections to return to when life turns the volume back up. Practices that fit the specific places you get stuck. Books and resources chosen for this exact season of your life.
And if you came in carrying a book, a business, a decision, a hard conversation — it won't just be something you've been thinking about anymore. It'll have moved. With your own hands.
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Somewhere along the way, you'll probably find the sentence you've been trying to write for years. The one that finally sounds like you.
Erin was the first person who understood having a mother with dementia was its own kind of grief, and not the kind where you get a card and a casserole, because my mom is still here. Very few understand how hard that is.
We built a ritual together, to help me let go of the mother I'd lost. Afterward, I noticed I stopped bracing every time I visited her. I still miss who she was. But I can actually be present with who she is now, instead of focusing on who she was for the whole visit.
E. M.
Mom, daughter, caregiver
The practical part...

I came in with something alive that had its own intelligence — but could have easily turned into months of navel-gazing or stuckness. Working with Erin felt like having a shepherdess. She was the banks of the river — giving structure without forcing anything. I never felt rushed, and the work that emerged felt completely like me.
Julia Corley
LCMHC, LMBT
Certified Hakomi Therapist & Trainer,
Somatic Experiencing Practitioner
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Join the list for stories, reflections, and things that help you think more clearly in the middle of change.
For sensitive humans only. (Okay, maybe other-than-humans too.)

