What if you arrived to your coaching appointment by driving down a tree lined lane and out into a view with pastures, ponds, and gentle rolling hills instead of that stuffy office?
The ponies and mini donkeys watch as you park and get out of your car. They walk over to say hi. You can hear the wind in the trees. A flash catches your eye and you see an Osprey hovering high over the pond and then, like a lightning bolt, plummets into the water to come up with a fish. A great blue heron stands in the shallows. The sun is warm. The land itself is part of the process.
Notice your shoulders, they just dropped.Â
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There is no excavating, no performing, no rushing toward insight. There may be a voice that says you should be further along, working harder, going deeper. Some things won't come when you chase them. They need you to get quiet, to slow down, to stop proving you're doing the work. The herd knows this. They live it. They'll show you how. Slower is not lesser. It's braver.
I was formally trained as an Equine Gestalt Coach, but the deeper education came from Rayn, my heart horse from the time she came to me at five until she left this world at seventeen. She taught me that animal communication is real, that the herd will tell you the truth if you get quiet enough to listen. Once, sitting on the ground with a herd of fourteen, I asked them in my mind to come lay with me. Half of them did. That's the work. Not a technique. Watching, feeling, listening, and trusting what arrives. The sessions follow your own rhythm, not a protocol. You won't be pushed. You will be truly seen and heard.
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Let's talkThis is for empathic women who feel everything. Women in midlife transition or who wish they could be. Late diagnosed or wondering neurodivergent women. Women who've done therapy and want something different—something they can feel, not just talk about. Women who just need somewhere safe to land.
If you're looking for quick fixes or homework heavy programs.
A note on Equine Gestalt Coaching: if you've looked it up, you may have found some intense descriptions. The method can go deep, and in the right circumstances with the right client, that has its place. But that's not how I work. I was trained in it, and I'm grateful for that foundation. And then the horses taught me their way—slower, softer, more patient. Most women who find me aren't looking to excavate. They're looking to soften and breathe and find a way that works for them. That's what we do here.
 I welcome and affirm women in all their diversity—including trans women and others who live and identify as women. If you’re wondering if you belong here, you do.
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Each session is about an hour and takes place right in the heart of the herd—in the pasture with the ponies and mini donkeys, who may choose to engage with us as we work. If the weather isn't cooperating, we'll move to the open-air coaching barn. We usually start seated, taking a moment to notice what's happening in your body and your day, and from there, we follow what arises.
There's no agenda you need to prepare. Bring whatever is up for you—a situation, a feeling, a question, something stuck, or nothing at all. Just arrive as you are.
After a session it's normal to feel tender, or introspective. Integration often happens slowly, in the days that follow. That's not a sign that nothing happened, it's usually a sign that something did.
Closed-toe shoes—sneakers or boots are perfect. Clothes you don't mind getting a little dirty. A journal if you like to write, the pond is a lovely place to sit afterward. And nothing else. You don't need to have it figured out before you get here.
Not local, or just not ready to leave the house? Zoom or phone sessions bring the same unhurried, creative, Gestalt-inspired experience to wherever you are. No horses, but the same presence, the same pace, and the same space to finally exhale. Reach out and we'll find what works for you.
That's completely okay. Some people prefer a more traditional coaching conversation, and some days the weather or your allergies make the pasture a hard no. We can always meet in my office instead, where my little Border Collie Lucy is usually happy to offer her calm company, or not, if you'd rather it just be us.
The work is the same. The pace is the same. The animals are a gift, not a requirement.
It's completely normal to feel curious and nervous at the same time. Some people dive right in, others want to ease their way in slowly. You get to choose your own pace — that's true from the very first step.
There are many ways into this work. If a one-on-one feels like too big a step right now, that’s okay. A Women’s Circle might be a wonderful place to start—creative, supportive, and a soft landing into community. For the gentlest entry point, neurofeedback or Reiki might be exactly what your nervous system needs.
Whatever path you choose, the pace is yours. There's no wrong way to find your way here.
Let's talk
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