The dojo, held by the forest.
A small yurt at the edge of the cedars. A wood floor that holds breath, sweat, and song.
The dojo was built simply, by hand, with intention. There is space for ten or so to lie down in a circle, a small altar, a wood stove for the cold months, and tall windows that let the trees in. It is not a studio. It is a way place — quiet, warm, and shaped by the people who pass through it.
A clearing in the cedars.
The yurt sits at the end of a short forest path, set among old growth and stump rings. A small porch, a bench, room to take your shoes off and arrive slowly.
Most arrivals begin here — a long breath at the threshold, then the soft sound of the door.
Soft floor. Warm light.
Inside: cedar walls, a wood stove, blankets and bolsters laid out in a circle, and a small altar at the heart of the room. The ceiling rises into the yurt's center crown — a single skylight that tracks the sun across the day.
It holds about ten in ceremony, more for sit-down practice. Tea after. Quiet on the way out.
Moments from the land, the practice, the people.
The door is open by invitation.
Join our public breathwork class — new schedule coming soon — or reach out to book a private session on a date that suits you.