A Quiet Place to Simply Be

Tucked into the corner of our barn, between my barn supplies and a stack of hay bales, is a spot I return to again and again.

This is my “office.” No desk. No fluorescent lights. No inbox waiting to be answered.

Instead, I’m surrounded by the familiar sounds of the barn—the soft snuffling of horses as they nose through their hay, the rhythmic swish of tails brushing flies, the flutter of wings as birds come and go through the open rafters.

The light filters through the steel gate in long golden stripes, and the dust dances gently in the sunbeams. It’s peaceful here — deeply peaceful in a way that can’t quite be captured with words.

This is my sanctuary. A soft place in a loud world.

Outside this space, life feels busy and noisy. I live on a major throughway in the city, and even on quiet days, there’s a hum of traffic, of headlines, of collective unrest. There’s always something—something to do, something to fix, something to carry.

But here, in the barn, all of that fades.Here, I get to rest.My nerves settle. The near-constant ringing in my ears, which seems to follow me everywhere else, begins to quiet.

Here, I get to simply be.

And maybe that’s part of what makes this work so powerful—not just for me, but for those who come here. Whether they arrive carrying grief, overwhelm, uncertainty, or just the weight of daily life, the barn offers a pause. A breath. A return.

The horses help us find our way back to ourselves—not through words, but through presence. Through silence. Through the kind of connection that doesn't require explanation.

DreamCatchers was built on this vision: a place where people can land softly. Where nervous systems can reset. Where healing doesn’t have to be loud or dramatic—it can be quiet, slow, and deeply honest.

If you’ve been looking for a place like that, you’re not alone.We’re here. The barn is open. The horses are waiting.

And there’s always an extra chair.