I believe that before we arrive in this life, our souls make agreements.

Mine was with my daughter Lindsay.

She would come into this world and live a thousand years in twenty-three. She would be radiant and newly married, full of plans for children and a life still unfolding. And three months after her diagnosis with leukemia — six months after her wedding — she would die. With grace. With humor. Caring for everyone around her even as she was the one leaving.

And I would be the mother left behind with the broken heart.

That was our agreement.

In the early days after she died, my mantra was a question I could not stop asking: Why am I still here when she is not? What is my purpose?

I spent years in that question. Moving through it. Being undone by it. And slowly, slowly, being rebuilt by it.

I had to redefine what peace meant — not as the absence of pain, but as something I could find even inside it. I had to remember who I was beneath every role I had played, every expectation I had carried, every version of myself I had performed for the world.

Maya Manseau

Lindsay Manseau Moore

I had to remember the truth of who I was.

And when I finally found my way back to that — when the woman who had been called Melissa for forty-something years became Maya — I understood why I was still here.

It was so I could help others do the same.

Not just survive their grief. Not just get through their loss or their transition or the weight of everything they've been carrying.

But find their way back to themselves. To the truth of who they are — underneath all of it.

House of Breath Sanctuary was built from that knowing. Every circle, every breath session, every quiet room prepared for someone who just needs to put something down for a moment — it all comes from what Lindsay showed me.

That even a broken heart can find its way back to peace.

That peace is not something that happens to you.

It is something you create — from the inside out — when someone finally holds the space for you to remember who you truly are.

I am Maya Manseau. And I built this space for you.

Why “Sanctuary”?

House of Breath Sanctuary is not a religious space. The word sanctuary is used here in its oldest, simplest sense: a place where one is safe to arrive as they are.

A sanctuary is a pause from the demands of the outside world — a space where nothing is required of you except your presence.

At House of Breath Sanctuary, sanctuary means:

· no fixing

· no performance

· no doctrine

· no agenda imposed upon you

It is a place set apart from urgency, advice, and expectation — where listening, honesty, and human presence are enough.

This work does not belong to any religion, belief system, or spiritual hierarchy. It asks for no shared language, philosophy, or faith.

What is held here is respect: for your autonomy, for your inner knowing, for the truth of your lived experience.

Sanctuary, in this context, is not about escape — it is about return.

A return to breath. A return to yourself. A return to what is already present, but often unheard.

How This Space Is Held

House of Breath Sanctuary is not therapy, coaching, or spiritual instruction. There are no diagnoses, prescribed outcomes, or hierarchies of knowing.

Instead, this space is guided by a few simple principles:

· Presence over urgency

· Listening over advice

· Consent over assumption

· Relationship over transaction

People come here during transitions — visible or invisible — when something is shifting, loosening, or asking to be honored. Some arrive with clear questions. Others arrive with only a feeling. Both are welcome.

What House of Breath Stands For

Reverence: Because we bow to the miracle of being alive, but never so low that we can't wink at the divine while we do it.

Belonging: Every soul gets a seat at this table, whether they arrive in their Sunday best or wrapped in yesterday's heartbreak.

Sovereignty: Your soul, your breath, your choices. No one here's handing out crowns — you were born wearing yours.

Joy: Not the polite kind that sits in the corner, but the unruly joy that dances barefoot on the altar and invites everyone to join.

Truth: Spoken in voices that shake, whispered through tears, or roared from the belly — truth is the sacred currency here.

Courage: The kind that knows fear is coming along for the ride and still throws open the door to the unknown.

Reciprocity: We give and receive in the same breath, knowing that generosity is a circle, not a scoreboard.

Play: Because sacred doesn't have to mean serious, and sometimes the holiest act is a belly laugh that shakes the rafters.

Grace: That merciful space between 'I tried' and 'I'll try again,' where we hold ourselves and each other tenderly.

Liberation: Freeing ourselves from the stories that keep us small so our souls can stretch, yawn, and claim the sky.

The Books

Writing has been another way of listening — and of making space for people to recognize themselves in language.

These books were born from the same place as this sanctuary: from grief, from the long work of finding my way back to myself, and from the belief that our stories — honestly told — can be the thing that helps someone else feel less alone.

Sacred Art of Honoring Grief: Lessons Learned from the Loss of a Child (2022)

This book was born from the loss of my daughter Lindsay. It is the most personal thing I have ever written — a meditation on grief, love, and the sacred work of remaining open even when everything in you wants to close.

If you are grieving the loss of a child, or loving someone who is, this book was written for you.

Living Intentionally after Loss: 8 Steps to Reclaiming Your Passion and Purpose (2023)

After Lindsay died, I spent years learning how to live again — not just survive, but actually reclaim a life with meaning, joy, and direction. This book is the distillation of that journey into eight honest, practical steps.

It is for anyone who has experienced loss and is ready — even just a little bit ready — to find their way back to themselves.

The Photographer's Focus: Do What You Love, Tell Client's Stories through Images (2023)

A guide for photographers ready to build a business from their passion and their purpose.

There is no expectation to read anything in order to be welcome here. The work at House of Breath stands on its own. But if you feel called to go deeper, these books are waiting for you.

Navigating the Small Business Path: 10 Steps to Doing What You Love (2024)

For the purpose-driven entrepreneur who wants to build something that reflects who they truly are — not just what the market demands.

An Invitation

If this space feels like it might be supportive, you're welcome to explore the offerings or reach out with a question. There is no rush, and no obligation.

You are welcome exactly as you are.