Kara Markovich Sound Therapy

10/12/2026

24 years ago, I woke up in the morning from a dream

I had gotten married but somehow had missed the whole thing.

As if I couldn’t keep up with time.

I woke up in my old bed in my parents’ home with an overwhelming sense of sadness. That sadness quickly moved through me followed by a sense of relief.

A remembrance.

I had missed nothing.

That day was the day my young self and his young self were going to get married.

And like the weather today, that day was cloudless and warm, sunny and beautiful.

It was perfection.

Of course, in the past 24 years not anniversary is like that.

But isn’t that how metaphors usually go?

Last night, we sat outside and looked beyond the trees, to see glimpses of the small lake hidden behind them. I asked him if him- then could imagine us-now.

He didn’t think so. Neither did I

We have never been 5 year plan kinda people. I’m not sure we are 2 year plan kinda people.

And I can’t decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

Maybe we just prefer surprises?

But in this life of ours, we have learned that what is most important is to know which child we are each in charge of looking after when three of them are under 3 years old. We have learned to never underestimate the power of bribery with food (don’t you dare judge) and that miscarriages, congenital heart defects in our baby and loss of humans we love can cause unbearable bumps in the road.

We are just grateful we have had our seatbelts on.

We have learned that when one job is lost, you must always celebrate that evening (and maybe the evening following) because deep down you believe, together, that life is happening for you.

And then you leave Portland, your home for nearly 20 years, and move to Michigan because of a house.

And life changes

And when another job is lost, you celebrate again even if, this time, it feels more scary

Then you buy a building (because why wouldn’t you?) and start a business because that was only ever sort of in the plan.

You hold your breath

and then put as much faith into the unknown as you do one another,

Because that’s what you do.

At least, that is what we did.

So maybe it’s not as good as a five year plan

But maybe
if possible

it’s a little bit better.

10/10/2026

It’s Saturday afternoon.

I’ve been to the soccer field, cheered our kid on, watched his team lose but witnessed him easily consoled with a lunch that isn’t from our kitchen.

I’m back now.

Greg is at another field, many more miles away (in hours time, not minutes) cheering another kid on.

He will return later.

So I am here, sitting in front of the computer, creating upcoming events, ready to let you know what’s coming in November

almost ready but not ready yet.

And as cliche as it sounds, I feel like my heart is bursting with excitement and gratitude for those who create with me and my work, as well as those who create with us at The Origami House.

Next month, there are beautiful collaboration with sound immersions and two remarkably wonderful concerts, both very different in form and yet equally inspiring, likely more than you can imagine.

We don’t share just for the sake of sharing.

We want you here.

Not for us (though that does keep the lights on and this planning possible)

but for yourselves.

We share for those who come here to offer their gifts and talents with you so that you may leave feeling inspired and lighter and hearts a little more open.

Because they share their gifts so that you may break open and be brave enough to share yours.

I’ll shut up now.
I’ll finish this work so I’ll be ready to share.

I’m just not quite ready yet.

✨✨✨in the meantime, you must check out our October calendar. Filled with visiting artists, collaborations, rest, saunas grieving, living, dying, love, and community.

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The Origami House

10/02/2026

It’s that time again.

Time keeps moving forward.
The sign has been changed.
The past is behind us and time continues to move ahead.

October.

And in this place, .origamihouse , we move slowly despite the speeding up of time. We offer experiences that quiet the noise and the busyness of our minds and allow peace to settle our nervous systems.

None of it is about doing and all of it is about being

With ourselves and in community.

This is October and all of our events, including visiting artists and sound experiences and collaborations, offer unique opportunities for you.

Mark your calendars, share with your people, make time for yourself.

✨Oct. 16- Harper + Midwest Kind Sound Journey featuring a dynamic duo sharing their gifts of sound, including their work with the didgeridoo and crystal bowls.
6-7:30p

✨Oct. 19- Sound + Receive | a sound immmersion for caregivers with
6-7:30p

✨Oct 25- Sound + Sauna | a Sunday of Rest featuring + .sauna

✨Oct. 30-At the Threshold | a gathering for grief, ancestors, sound and sacred dark
Grief circle, altar creation, sound immersion and meditation
Featuring artist and end of life doula +
6:30-9:00p

✨Weekly community mediation | Being Together with
Every Tuesday
5:30-6:30p
Suggested donation $10

✨Weekly morning sound immersion | Morning Sound Hour with
Every Wednesday morning
9:15-10:15a
Sliding scale | Registration appreciated but spontaneity admired

09/30/2026

Every Wednesday

You will find me here.

For you.

To rest. To be still. To regulate what feels unregulated.

Stress. Worry. Busyness.

Because aren’t we all busy?

But not here. Not for this hour. Not at this time.

Join Kara Markovich for an hour of sound before your day begins. Registrations is appreciated but spontaneity is also admired.

Sliding scale $22-$33-$40

✨Morning Sound Hour
9:15-10:15am
The Origami House

09/24/2026

In August, after we dropped Oscar off in Marquette, we made our way to the Keweenaw Peninsula.

We rented a house in the woods for a few days.

A place void of highway noises, absent of planes in the sky, but full of sounds from the leaves dancing together in the wind and in the distance, waves crashing on sand from Lake Superior.

There was just enough lawn cut to run around in big circles and then smaller and smaller ones and a space to have a campfire. Beyond that, the lawn became wild with flowers and trees and deer.

After we arrived and settled in, the kids wandered off down a trail to explore. When they returned, Ulla excitedly waved me to come with her.

She had something to show me.

But before she did, she asked me to close my eyes. I would be walking blindly, having only her to trust.

And admittedly, as her mother, when asked of this request in the past , I would occasionally peek, trusting only myself not to fall.

But this time, I chose to trust her wholeheartedly.

I kept my eyes closed tightly.

And she led me with her small hands. The hands with the delicately, long,
slender fingers, until she led me no longer and we stopped.

She asked me to open my eyes. She wanted to take me to the spot that reminded her of my parents’ field.

The one that no longer belonged to them but to someone else.

The place my dad’s ashes were spread, the place I went to when I needed a place to go. The place I often find myself in dreams and the place I mourn and long for the most.

And as we stood there, the abundance of Queen Anne’s Lace and Goldenrod overwhelmed me. How long has it been when I last stood in that field? And there I was, feeling like I was standing in my parents’ space again.

The thoughtfulness of what she gifted.

I laid on the ground and she joined me. We looked up at the passing clouds like I did when I was young, when I thought life would go on forever, just like the sky.

How deep the desire can be to want something back knowing it could never return the same.

The cliche of wanting what you can no longer have.

The old that is lost

yet how precious
the memory is
that remains.

That
I will tell you,

I still have.

09/23/2026

By the end of this week, I will have packed and unpacked my gear seven times since Monday.

Eight sound sessions in total.

Two happened at different times in the same room, no packing and unpacking required there.

It’s a lot of gear. And it’s not exactly a small feat, especially now that I’m able to offer the addition of yoga mats and blankets.

But there’s something I really love about being able to do this.

I can come to you.

I can bring the sound immersion to wherever you are, and I can also help set up and create the experience so that, when your people arrive, there is nothing left for you to worry about except showing up.

Maybe it’s a wellness gathering at your company.

A moment of reprieve for your team.

A special gathering with friends.

A retreat.

Or something you’re imagining that doesn’t quite have a name yet.

And, of course, I know a pretty beautiful place where you can step away from your everyday surroundings and let someone else create the container for you. The Origami House

Here, everything is ready when you arrive.

You. Your team. Your friends. Your community.

And it doesn’t have to stop at sound.

I know so many deeply talented facilitators, practitioners and artists, and I love bringing the right people together to create experiences that go beyond what you may have initially imagined.

So if you’ve been thinking, I’d love to do something like that, but aren’t quite sure what that is yet…

Let’s talk.

Sometimes the experience you’re looking for is one you simply haven’t considered yet.

09/17/2026

He turned 50 in August.

He would never tell you that.
He doesn’t like to make a big deal about himself.

His birthday is shared with our daughter, Ophelia.
She gets the limelight now.

And you definitely won’t see him on here much either, if at all.

He is the quiet one.

The one who sands the painted white beams and mows the lawn and fixes the landscaping.

He is also my sounding board, my cheerleader, and the forever optimist when worry riddles me.

Words are less for him. He is the listener. But his kindness, attentiveness, and support are abundant.

He didn’t want The Origami House at first. The purple carpet, pink tile, white beams, and eclectic paintings were a lot for him to see past.

He is rational.
I’m the dreamer.

But he allowed himself to sit with the discomfort, and we worked through it. Like REALLY worked through it.

And it was his dream that emerged, to bring live music into the space in concert form.

His idea.
Not mine.

A dream coming from a kid who grew up as a classically trained vocalist, who would nearly abandon it after high school and certainly did after college.

But music is rooted so deeply in his cells, it never went away. It just remained dormant for a while.

So when you see anything associated with The Origami House you will probably be more familiar with me and my face—the one with the black glasses, the one who does all the talking.

But you have to know him.

Because he is as much a part of this as I am.

Besides, those who know him
think he is really worth knowing.

09/15/2026

You will find me here Wednesday mornings

Every Wednesday morning I am here

for you.

To calm, relax and reset the frazzled, the stressed. To bring you back into alignment with yourself.

You can hear you when all the noise is gone.

Though registration is appreciated, spontaneous is admired and drop ins are welcome. We also have sliding scale .

If that voice inside you says to make a change of plans and be there on a Wednesday morning, maybe you should listen.

And if it doesn’t, maybe you should give yourself the chance to experience a sound session at The Origami House and then you will understand how this moment of calm
can enhance the rest of your day.

https://tixfox.co/e/Ak0SNc6gzk

09/10/2026

Caregiving then
feels so different
from caregiving now.

When these photos were taken, she needed me in such a different way.
I knew what she needed.
Or at least, I felt like I did.

Now she needs me in ways that feel less obvious and sometimes more challenging to verbalize. Like two people speaking a different language.

I’m not sure I’m navigating it very well. Sometimes I wonder if I screw up more than I get it right.

And then multiply that by her older brother × her sister × her twin brother, too.

Four humans. Four different ways of needing. Four different sets of worries, questions, joys, and what ifs.

Sometimes, I just need a break from wondering.

A break.
A pause.
A place where I don’t have to be the one figuring it out.

Because caregiving asks so much of us. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Our nervous systems can become frazzled by the constant what ifs, the anticipating, the noticing, the remembering, the advocating, the loving, the wondering.

And sometimes rest is not one more thing we need to accomplish.

Sometimes rest is simply being held for a while.

This is the heart behind Sound + Receive for Caregivers at The Origami House.

A space to put down, just for a little while, the responsibility of caring for everyone else.

To lie down.
To listen.
To breathe.
To receive.

No fixing. No figuring it out. No needing to be anything for anyone.

Just an hour to soften and rest.

Monday, September 14 | The Origami House
6–7:30p
https://tixfox.co/e/yCiBrISPpY

If you are caring for someone you love (including yourself), I hope you’ll join me.

06/16/2026

Last night, we hosted our first sound immersion for caregivers.

How “caregiver” is defined was beautifully represented in the room:
caregivers to parents with dementia and Alzheimer’s
a woman caring for a friend who has no one else to turn to
a child supporting a mother recovering from a stroke
parents of teenagers
parents of young adults
a massage therapist
reiki practitioners who hold space for others
a woman who no longer identifies as a caregiver, yet still carries the imprint of what it means to care so deeply

There are so many more representations of caregiving. It feels nearly infinite. It is vast, layered, and often unseen.

You may not see yourself in some of these examples, but if you have ever held someone through a hard moment, worried about another’s wellbeing, anticipated a need before it was spoken, or given of yourself in a way that required energy, presence, and heart… you belong in this conversation.

Caregiving is not always loud or labeled. Sometimes it is quiet, subtle, and woven into the fabric of who you are.

And so this space is for you, too.

A place to soften.
A place to be held.
A place where you do not have to be the one giving.

We will be gathering again soon, and it would be an honor to have you with us.

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