The real work of relationship.

This work is happening whether we make a commitment, or find ways to avoid the profound difficulty of a singular fire. It's happening before we even meet someone, while we're dating, when we face our first inevitable difficulties, and when it gets really hard. It happens when we come through the other side in a new form — whether together or not — and it continues forever after.

Our connections — the ones we're inside, the ones we've lost, the ones we haven't made yet — are the primary landscape of our spiritual and psychological development. And the way we meet what's difficult in them shapes everything that follows. Most of us meet those moments alone, or nearly so. This is a place not to.

I sit with people in four seasons of this work.

Couples who are together and want to go deeper — to get through the hard things rather than around them, to build real intimacy, and to make meaning of the life and time they share. Not a relationship rescued, but one that grows into something truer.

Couples who are separating and have chosen to do it well. Especially when there are children — yours, theirs, or ours — the way two people come apart determines the life everyone lives afterward. There's a version of this that leaves less wreckage and more dignity, and it's worth doing on purpose.

People carrying a relationship that lives now only in memory — a partnership long ended, someone who cut off contact, someone who died before things could be said or heard. Or the belief that you made a mistake you can't come back from. The past is not as fixed as we assume. How you look back, whether you can grieve well, whether you can finally speak to someone you loved and lost — even in the private chamber of your own being — is still alive, and still shapes what your future can hold.

People who are single and want to create what comes next. So much of what we're capable of in the next relationship is set by how we've made sense of the past ones, whether we've healed the old wounds, and what we've built in our relationship with ourselves. It's the work of moving away from the tendencies and habits — even the addictions — that pull us off the energy we actually want to carry, and toward becoming someone capable of attracting and holding what we're looking for.

What this actually looks like is simpler than it sounds. We sit together — around a kitchen table, or out back by a fire. When it fits the situation, and for balance, I bring a trusted woman with the capacity and steadiness to be with whatever comes up. We stay as long as it takes for something to shift — for a next move to become visible, or for the tightness to ease. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we work with the body or the breath. Sometimes we sit quietly and let the room do its work.

This isn't therapy. It's something older — the kind of container where a person can be met inside their whole life, not just inside the problem that brought them.

What does this cost?

There is no set fee. I ask $75 or more per meeting for singles, and $150 or more for couples. When I bring a second person, it’s double. If cost is a barrier and this feels important to you, please reach out anyway.

Money is not the point of this work. And yet — we don't tend to show up fully to something that costs us nothing. I used to hear people say that and think it was a line to justify the fee. I've since learned it's true. The exchange is part of what makes the container real.

How I hold what's said.

This work is held in confidence. What is shared in a meeting stays there — I don't repeat it, I don't use it in teaching or writing, and I don't reference it with anyone else. When a second person is present, she holds the same commitment. If we cross paths in town, I follow your lead. This holding doesn't end when the meetings end.

The one place I would act rather than hold silence is if someone's life were in immediate danger, or a child's safety was at stake. Short of that, what is said stays between us.

Contact.

You likely have my number. If not, ask the friend who sent you.