36. soft launching soft landing

a tender offering for tender times

Dear friends and beloved readers of TC,

I’ve been feeling the juicy energy of last night’s new moon in Cancer, what many astrologers are calling the most auspicious moon of the year, especially for someone with a Cancer stellium (Sun, Venus, Mercury, Lilith…meep!) like me, and I really didn’t want to miss this moment to plant the seeds of something I care deeply about and want to grow.

Even though my website isn’t finished — and the language and practice are still evolving — I’ve been working with a simple mantra that urges me to share today: it doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be true.

So today, I’m soft-launching my new offering, Soft Landing.

For the last five years, I’ve been hearing a call for change and trying to shift how I work and earn a living in a way that feels more aligned, not only with who I’m becoming but also with the world we’re living in, one that is asking all of us to change. As my definition of success continues to shift, I keep asking myself: What do I actually want to devote my energy, soul, and spirit to?

And what’s come from that is a kind of ongoing apprenticeship in tenderness, grief and being human in a changing world. I have finished some trainings, while others I decided weren’t for me for a whole variety of reasons that I’m sure I’ll share more about in time. I was initially on the path of becoming a psychotherapist before realising that I had reached the limits of talk therapy, that I had spent so long abandoning my body, intellectualising everything and convincing myself that talking was healing. But as someone with an Aquarius moon and a chronic overthinker, it was so easy to stay in my head. Something in my body knew I needed something else, something felt, something alive, something that could help me come back to myself in a deeper way. Because life is tender, and we aren’t meant to do it alone. Our bodies are out there in the world, taking it all in, not just witnessing but holding, absorbing and responding. This time we’re living through is intense, and I believe that whatever we’re exploring or moving through now, we can’t just think our way through it. We need our wholeness.

Somatics originates from the Greek word soma, meaning the entire living body, encompassing not just the thinking mind but also the felt, lived experience. This work invites a fuller sense of where we are and where we want to go, through sensation, presence and feeling our way into something new.

In our one-to-one sessions, we create a space of tenderness, gentle holding and playful exploration. A cocoon for the in-between, a space for deep feeling, gentle presence and becoming who you already are. I offer somatic support, simple rituals and deep listening, always with curiosity and care. My work is rooted in somatic, therapeutic and contemplative traditions, and guided by a deeply intuitive approach that responds to what feels most alive in the moment. I’m a certified body-oriented coach and guide and am currently apprenticing in grief-tending work. This work isn’t about having the right answers but about exploring the questions together, lightly, deeply or playfully, depending on whatever you need that day.

What I want to offer through this work is also what I’ve been yearning for myself, which is a sense of playfulness, spaciousness and permission to explore. So often, when we’re moving through painful or difficult things, we lose our capacity for curiosity; everything becomes tight, heavy, and hard to hold. But what if we could hold hard things with soft hands? That has been the quiet question guiding everything I’m building. How do we meet the weight of being human with tenderness, with sweetness, maybe even with a little play? That’s the space I want to open, a space where we can feel deeply and still be light, where we don’t need to be fixed to be held, where we can stay soft even when things are hard.

This doesn’t feel like a brand new beginning, but more like a continuation, a natural evolution of what I’ve already been doing. It feels connected to everything I’ve been exploring in my writing: how the world is changing, how we’re being asked to change, and how we meet that change in ways that feel honest and full of heart.

I’ve really cared about getting things right. I’ve wanted to hold people well, to be thoughtful about what I offer and how I do this work. But I also see how that care has sometimes slowed me down, because nothing is ever perfect. Just as in the natural world, things are always changing, always evolving, always becoming. So I want to model that in my practice, to embrace the in-between and honour the imperfect process, to show up even when things are still taking shape, and to do it with love and intention.

Some of you may remember that I shared a little about the spring equinox, and at that time, I had already begun quietly working with a few clients. But now I feel ready to open this up more fully. I have the capacity and space for a few more, which is why I’m sharing this here. This newsletter has always been a place where I tend to form ideas and plant seeds, and it’s through writing here that this work has slowly taken shape. This is what got me here. So it felt right to share it here first.

For years now, I’ve also been thinking about the changes coming in with AI and feeling a deeper call to root into the things that make us as human as possible. Tenderness, vulnerability and care – these are the qualities needed for our evolution. Especially in a paradigm we have outgrown that has modelled the opposite. Also because AI is continuously trained to have an answer, to resolve and to have certainty, but that’s not real life, and so much of the magic of our existence lies in the unknown, in the mystery, in the slow unfolding of what's still emerging.

A few months ago, I wrote about the Inuit word “qaartsiluni,” which roughly translates to “sitting together in the dark, waiting for something to emerge.” I want to sit with people in the dark. I want to make space for whatever comes. This work is that space. As Valerie Kaur writes, what if this is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb? A place of beginning. A place of becoming. If we are in the rebirth of our world, then how we change is how the world changes, and every birth needs support.

Maybe part of the point of starting now is that I’m already in it, I’m already doing the work, and the real learning happens not in another training or certificate but in the act of showing up, over and over, and listening closely. I’m still learning, and always will be!

You might be drawn to this work if you’re moving through a big transition, grief, heartache, or simply feeling the sharp edges of life and longing for a sense of softness. Or if you, too, are hearing the siren call of our Earth for change and wondering what it would mean to answer. Or if you’re looking for a soft cocoon to explore within, a space where you can loosen your grip a little and be held in playfulness and loving presence. You don’t need to be in crisis to be here; you just need to be human. You are far from alone and I would be honoured to support you in this tender time.

To explore working with me, you can book an initial call here.

With love and so much tenderness,

Naomi