There are some experiences that feel less like a training and more like a pilgrimage.
Getting to Blue Spirit in Nosara, Costa Rica was one of those for me.
It wasn’t just the travel itself, though that had its own rhythm of surrender. It was the feeling of arriving somewhere alive in a way that quietly asks something of you. The land felt lush and breathing. Howler monkeys climbed in the trees all around the retreat. Butterflies drifted through the air. Insects sang at night as the sun set, almost like they were singing it to sleep. Iguanas rested in the trees, blending in so well they looked like ancient branches, extensions of the trees themselves. And the smallest bees I’ve ever seen moved in and out of tiny hives tucked into unexpected places around the grounds. Bright, colorful birds flashed through the canopy, quick bursts of blues, yellows, and reds weaving through the lush green flora.
There was a sense that before we could learn anything new, we had to slow down enough to actually feel. The air was warm and moist, the ocean just steps away, calling wave after wave as if to remind me of the rhythm of my own breath.
Something in me knew it was time to deepen my work, and I found myself signing up for a somatic couples therapy training. I spent the week alongside about 30 other therapists, all of us there to deepen into this work. But what stood out most wasn’t just what we were learning, it was how we were learning it. This wasn’t about adding more insight or finding better words. It was about dropping underneath the story and into the body. We practiced this in real time, with ourselves and with each other, experiencing the potency of somatic work firsthand.
Into what’s actually happening in the moment.
Since coming home to Portland, I can feel how much this has shifted my work.
There’s a different kind of depth in the room now. Less talking around the issue, more experiencing what’s happening between partners as it unfolds. We slow things down. We notice the moment one partner reaches and the other tightens. We stay with the subtle shifts in the breath, the hesitation, the impulse to move closer or pull away.
And something different starts to happen.
Instead of getting stuck in the same conversations, couples begin to feel each other in a new way. The defenses make more sense. The reactions soften. There’s more room for curiosity, and often, more compassion and support.
One of the things I’m hearing from couples this week is how different it feels. Not just intellectually helpful, but experientially different. Like they’re actually having a new kind of interaction, not just understanding the old one better.
That’s the heart of somatic work.
It’s not about getting it right or saying the perfect thing. It’s about learning how to stay present with yourself and each other in the moments that usually go sideways. It’s about catching the pattern earlier, feeling what’s underneath it, and allowing something new to emerge.
And sometimes, it’s surprisingly simple.
A pause. A breath. A moment of noticing.
And then… a different choice becomes possible.
I’m feeling really grateful to be bringing this work into my practice right now. It feels like a natural deepening of everything I already love about working with couples, with more access to the places where real change happens.
If you’re curious about what this might be like in your own relationship, I’d love to explore that with you.
Warmly,
Paisley