Viola Mae 7/8/25 Viola Mae 7/8/25

Unrooted

Sometimes the body doesn’t feel like home — not because it’s broken, but because it remembers. This reflection invites you to return gently, one breath at a time.

Viola Mae 7/8/25 Viola Mae 7/8/25

Do I feel too much — or nothing at all?

There are times when the body feels distant, blank, or unreachable — not broken, just quiet. This reflection holds space for that hollow pause, reminding you that feeling nothing may be your body’s gentle way of protecting something sacred.

Viola Mae 7/8/25 Viola Mae 7/8/25

Small Signs of Life

After stillness or disconnection, aliveness can return quietly. This reflection honors the flickers — the tiny movements and soft signals that remind you you're still here.

Viola Mae 7/8/25 Viola Mae 7/8/25

Tuning In

Your body has its own language — made of tension, movement, and subtle signals. This reflection invites you to pause and listen, without needing to fix anything.

Viola Mae 5/28/19 Viola Mae 5/28/19

The Language of Discomfort

What if the ache, the tightness, the tension — isn’t something to fix, but something to hear? This reflection invites you to translate discomfort into understanding.

Viola Mae 5/28/19 Viola Mae 5/28/19

Gravity as Belonging

You don’t have to float to be free. This reflection invites you to rest in gravity — to let weight become a signal of presence, grounding, and quiet belonging.

Viola Mae 5/28/19 Viola Mae 5/28/19

Safe Enough

You don’t need to feel fully safe — just safe enough to begin. This reflection honors the quiet places of ease in the body and how they help us return to ourselves.