Practices for
the Dreaming Body
Creating ceremony and returning to the sacred in everyday life.
A space for attunement
This is a collection of ways to slow down, to see beauty, to remember that the body is the meeting place of earth and spirit.
These words, practices, and small rituals are an offering — for the part of you that longs to rest, to soften, to feel wonder again.
This offering is meant to nourish the quiet intelligence of your body, to awaken the subtle spaces of awareness, and to remind you that the sacred is woven into everything — the water you pour, the tea you sip, the light that shifts across the room.
Every session is a ceremony of return…
a remembering of your body’s rhythm, your breath’s wisdom, the pulse of the natural world that moves through you.
This page offers ways to prepare, to meet what arises, and to integrate it back into your days.
They are not instructions, but invitations.
You can move through them before your session or after — or anytime you want to return to yourself. Here, you’re invited to move slowly.
To tend to the body as temple, to the senses as altar, and to your everyday rituals as ceremony. To meet what arises, and to integrate it back into your days. Take what speaks to you. Leave what doesn’t.
The rest will find you in its own time…
Ceremony is how we remember what’s real. It’s how we pause long enough to feel the sacredness that lives beneath our daily movements — to name the thresholds we’re crossing, to honor the quiet work of healing, to root intention back into the body. A bodywork session can be a kind of portal, a way of entering yourself more deeply — into your spirit, your rhythm, your own remembering — if you choose to center it that way.
This work is sacred because it restores relationship: between body and breath, human and earth, effort and surrender. In a time ruled by speed, convenience, and constant distraction, we need these slow, intentional moments of communion — with nature, with ourselves, with what cannot be seen but is deeply felt. We are nature. We are magic. Through attention, through beauty, through presence, we return to what has always held us.
SETTING AN INTENTION
There are many ways to approach a session.
You might come with the simple intention to be enveloped by rest — to let your senses sink into the moment and drift where they need to go.
You might arrive with the wish to soften tension, to feel the body exhale and remember ease.
You might focus your attention on the calming sensory experience — the sounds, the scent, the temperature of touch — and carry that feeling with you through the days that follow.
You might use this time to release the effort of holding, whether physical or emotional, and allow yourself to be held and nourished instead.
Or you might let your mind relax into a deep interior space and notice what arises — images, memories, insights — as the body unwinds.
There is no single right way to receive this work.
Each intention is its own doorway, and each doorway is necessary at different times in life.
When I speak about intention, I don’t mean forcing your mind to decide what should happen. I mean listening for what your body already wants — rest, release, nourishment, clarity — and letting that be enough.
You don’t have to come with a fixed goal.
Your body can choose the intention through how it receives.
Rest, curiosity, release, or simply showing up — they all count.
When I invite you to hold an intention, it isn’t a mental task or a goal to achieve.
It’s simply a way of orienting yourself — deciding how you’d like to be in the experience.
You might come with the wish to stay present through every breath, moving slowly through the subtle layers of sensation and memory that arise.
You might enter as an act of release — letting the body soften its grip on what it’s been carrying, and trusting touch to do the rest.
You might arrive as a listener, attuning to whatever the body wants to say, or as an explorer moving through interior landscapes where insight and emotion live side-by-side.
Sometimes, this work even opens a sense of the spiritual: a quiet access point to the larger field of life that holds us — communion with the earth through the body itself.
Each of these ways of receiving is its own doorway.
Some days your doorway is rest, other days it is curiosity, other days devotion or surrender.
None is more correct than another; all are needed at different times in a life.
Let the body lead.
Let awareness follow.
Whatever intention forms will be the right one for now.
In the time leading up to your session…
you may want to clear off a space to use as an altar…this can be a collection of things that mean something to you.. that symbolize the way you see the world, beauty, inspiration. It could be centered on an aspiration, a feeling, something you would like to call in. This physichal space can serve as an anchor for your session, a physical reminder to slow down, to sense, to dream… you can have objects that relate to your intention…
On journaling….before and after the session…
Bathing….recipe…meaning behind water why this can help start the ceremony or continue it…
threshold herbs…to bathe with..to make tea with…to dream with before or after the ceremony….
Recipe for bathing….
Recipe for massage oil…
touch as reverence..approaching the body wih love not fixing..letting that extend from bodywork..to other ways of living..
You can choose to meditate if you have a practice…or a body scane to help build that bodily awareness to strangthen that awareness for your body based session…
here is a guided body scan ….
but you can also just be with yourself…in quite ways….tending to your plants…taking a walk…
drawing a picture…it doesnt even have to be good…the process is whats important
give yourself times of quiet…where you tune into your body and notice how it wants to express…
This is my offering to you — bodywork, and subtle ways of shifting your attention.
Of inviting a kind of magic to color your world.
The kind of magic that can only be felt in the slowing down of things —
in the way light stretches and softens around the lengthening shadows of early evening,
in the way a bouquet shifts through its days, petals darkening and falling, leaving small moonlight slivers on your nightstand table.
In the way the wind runs through the leaves outside your open window,
and the sound of passing cars becomes a reminder of the city’s quiet hum.
You can find that same magic in the rhythm of your nighttime kitchen — washing the dishes while your child sleeps in the other room.
In your morning drive past the jasmine that keeps blooming, quietly, no matter what the day holds.
There are moments of atmosphere all around us — moments ripe for mindful attention.
Moments we can define, feel, and make unmistakably our own.
The way you strike a match and pause to admire the flame before lighting a candle.
The way you sit afterward, breathing, feeling into your body — your first and only portal into this life.
Small moments of attunement.
Small declarations that this life is special, is magical, because you choose to see it.
And this can extend to every other part of life, when we slow down enough to feel it.
This is your invitation:
to slow down and sit with yourself —
to listen to the communion of your body,
to let what you touch in session continue to ripple outward,
to carry that feeling your body sunk into,
to let the body’s wisdom move through.
This space is just a reminder, to make time for yourself. I come from it from the lens of a mother, and a bodyworker, a city dwelling modern woman, and these are the practices that have helped me find and connect to my spirit in the midst of all the chaos, all the heartache, all the joy.