Kings in the Corner: Making Space

Hello love,

How are you?

I have been writing a lot lately. More than usual. My daily practice has morphed into a few hours of reflection and clarity. Certain doors that were open for such a long time have closed recently. A cycle of healing is complete and my new skin, after a huge shedding, is no longer soft and tender.

So much has happened over the last two weeks and each time I started this newsletter, nothing felt right. I needed some inspiration and time away from home, so I spent an evening in my favorite coffee shop, with a spicy chai in hand, and caught up with a few friends. I wrote some letters, journaled, and pulled some tarot cards.

I wasn’t putting pressure on myself. I’ve learned over the last year to trust my process. When I launched my business, I had a list of offerings that I wanted to begin with. Over the course of six months, I changed my mind over and over again. I felt like I was all over the place until a mentor reflected that this was how I’d discover what worked—an alchemy of aligning my inner and outer worlds.

Sitting in the café, staring at my tarot cards, a friend stopped by and invited me to join him and a few other friends in a game of Kings in the Corner. A card game we all played the week before. I was hesitant, sharing that I was trying to get my newsletter written, waiting for inspiration to hit. He wished me luck and walked away.

I sat there for a bit, overheard my friends laughing and decided I needed to play and have some fun. I have an amazing friend group at this coffee shop, where we always connect. Fist bumps, hugs, conversations, and laughter.

I was dealt in and played a few rounds. Sitting there, I knew this was exactly where I needed to be. Connecting with each other in our own way, sharing stories, hardships, frustrations, all while laughing, playfully teasing each other, and trying to win the game. The café closed and we all packed our bags and left, saying our goodbyes in the parking lot.

I sat in my car as it warmed up and drove home. As I listened to my favorite trance music, I thought about the community I’m part of at the café—and the inspiration I’d been waiting for finally hit. I started thinking about how we meet each other right where we are, inspiring and supporting one another. This is a gift we give each other and I am grateful to be part of it.

Being a part of different communities and making new friends in these groups has played a significant role in my growth and healing over the last year. I spent a lot of time alone after I was laid off in November 2024. In January 2025, I started writing poetry, something I had never done before. I took a poetry workshop online and was joined by other female poets. Held in a sacred container for sharing and being seen, slowly, I cracked open and discovered something new inside me that I didn’t know existed.

I participated in my first poetry reading online and started going to local poetry readings and open mic nights. My first real taste of community was with other poets. We all dive deep, write from vulnerable places and share our words. I went from feeling completely alone, to being part of something bigger than myself.

The leap I took, trying something new, aligns beautifully with The Fool energy, one of the tarot archetypes in the Major Arcana. 2025 was the year of leaning in, trusting the journey, and making my own map. I’m a child again. The world is my playground and my dreams are taking shape in the physical world. I leap from one thing to the next, creating, destroying, and trusting the process. I laugh, play, get curious, and explore the world around me.

The liminal space I was floating in over a year ago—feeling untethered as I redefined myself and my life after being laid off—is no more. I made space for myself and discovered I didn’t have to do it alone. I felt angry and isolated. How was I supposed to move forward when I was still grieving? My identity was shedding, my feelings were very real and I didn’t want to rush myself this time. I wanted to honor myself and this transition.

Lately, most of the readings I’ve been doing have been about transitions—layoffs and deaths of loved ones. People sitting in the threshold, grieving what was, not yet knowing what comes next.

What I do—in my work and in life—is create space where people don’t have to perform or resolve themselves. I’m comfortable with the in-between. I listen without trying to fix, judge, or shape the outcome. When people feel witnessed rather than managed, they tend to hear their own truth more clearly.

This is the work of liminality—learning to inhabit the threshold, the in-between. Not rushing to the next thing, but honoring the transformation happening in the waiting. My work is rooted in holding space for these sacred transitions.

I’m letting go of knowing the end result. What I want—what I crave—are deep conversations and illuminations where I can continue to learn and grow while witnessing the growth of others as well. This isn’t about me teaching or leading. It’s about us discovering together.

With love,
Naomi