In trauma-informed movement and sound, safety is not something I promise or create for someone else. It is something I listen for—and something the body signals in small, often quiet ways.

The ground does not demand performance. It does not ask for balance, coordination, or productivity. It simply offers support.

In both movement and sound, there is an assumption that something must always be happening—another cue, another tone, another instruction, another layer. But my training, experience, and listening have taught me something quieter and more demanding: sometimes the most ethical choice is to pause.

It did not teach me how to recognize the quiet signals of a body that is dissociating, bracing, or enduring instead of receiving. It did not teach me how to sit with discomfort without trying to fix it. It did not teach me how to trust silence. Training also did not teach me how power moves in subtle ways—how even well-intentioned facilitation can become intrusive if listening is replaced by agenda.