I work with women navigating deep inner transitions — moments when old patterns, identities, or ways of living no longer hold, and something new is asking to emerge.
The threshold is not a problem to be solved. It is a passage to be honoured — slowly, in the body, with someone who has crossed before and will not rush you through.
Three doors into the same work. Start where your body is today — go deeper as you are ready.
A twenty-minute conversation. We meet, you speak what is alive, I listen. You leave with clarity on whether — and how — to begin.
Six months. Eight women. A held container for women in the middle of a real passage — biweekly one-to-one work, a small circle, written letters, and integration that lives in the body.
For grounding through a specific moment, or as a slower beginning before a longer container. Single ninety-minute sessions, or a four-session cycle that allows continuity without commitment.
The Threshold Year is a six-month container for eight women in real transition — ending of an identity, of a marriage, of a way of working, of a way of being a daughter or a mother. It is not a course. There is no curriculum. There is a held shape, a steady hand, and time.
We begin on the equinox. We close two seasons later. What lives between is yours.
Biweekly ninety-minute one-to-one work, paced by your nervous system. The spine of the year.
A monthly small group of the eight women crossing alongside you. Witnessed, not performed.
A practice of writing toward me, and being read by me — between sessions. The page is a threshold too.
Breath, voice, body work, ritual — shaped to where you are. No spreadsheets, no homework. Practice that fits a real life.
In the sixth month, a ceremony of integration — alone, or in person with the circle if you choose to travel.
The letters, recordings, and writings of past cohorts — held in confidence, available always.
There is no form to optimise. There is a page, and your honest words on it. I read every application personally, and reply within a week — either with an invitation to a short conversation, or with care if the timing isn't ours.
Eight fields. Ten minutes. Sent by hand to Nina.
Nina holds a kind of space I had not known was possible. Slow, exact, without performance. I came in the middle of something I could not name. I left able to speak it, walk with it, and stay.
What I valued most was the absence of urgency. Nina does not push you across — she lets you stand on the threshold long enough that the next step becomes obvious. The integration was real because it was earned.
She is a writer and a guide in equal measure. Her letters arrived as medicine. Her listening arrived as a kind of mirror I had not seen in another woman's eyes before.
I have guided this work for more than ten years. Women come to me at the point where one life is loosening and the next has not yet shown itself. My practice is slow, literary, embodied — and unhurried by design.
My approach weaves embodied awareness, intuitive insight, and grounded integration. I work with the body — breath, sensation, the nervous system — and I work with the page, because some thresholds only reveal themselves in writing.
I keep a small practice — by design — so the women who arrive are met with full presence and the time their passage requires.
I work in English, Spanish, and French. Most letters are in English.
Short, slow, occasionally long. Writing from the practice, from the year as it unfolds. A quiet way to know me before — or instead of — beginning.
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