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Category: consciousness

Becoming undone: a normal part of growth
Are you struggling with the feeling of becoming undone? Like everything you know no longer feels true, no longer relevant, like you no longer know who you are, like you have just become a blank slate?
If you do, I’ve been struggling with the same for months. If you follow me you’ll know that I shared about this in this post recently. I remember having the same feelings when I was a teenager, and when I became a mother. In this post, I want to share analogies and tools that help me, and I hope they help you too.
During my first year as a new doula I suffered quite severe burnout. I reached out to my mentor who told me that the self care practises I had put in place in my job as a scientist were no longer adequate, as I was now suffering from spiritual burnout, as well as physical and emotional. I wrote about how I had to develop a new way to care for myself.
This has the same energetic flavour. And I need, yet again, to grow new ways of caring for myself. I recognise what it feels like, and I know the power that may come from the other side. I know on some deep level that, like the caterpillar that becomes goo inside the cocoon, I have to dissolve to reform. I tell myself, I am goo now. There is not much to do but be goo. You cannot fight against the dissolution as it only makes things harder.
The dissolution makes us vulnerable and soft for a while. Animals that need to cast their shell to grow new ones, like lobsters, hide under a rock to shield themselves from predators whilst they wait for their new shell to harden. For these animals, the sign that they have outgrown their old shell is discomfort. As Dr Abraham Twerski says in this video, if lobsters went to the doctor, they would be prescribed antidepressants for the discomfort, and would never grow.
If you are struggling, remember that the discomfort is there for a reason. If you were comfortable, you would stay where you are.
When we come undone, even if we understand on an intellectual level that it is a necessary transformational process, it can be very hard to navigate and stay in a place of trust, vulnerability, and surrender. And it is doubly hard as life doesn’t stop and we still need to care for others as we undergo this process. I cannot help but wonder what it would feel like if we still had the rituals that indigenous cultures have to support such tremendous life transitions, and how lost at sea we are in a culture that does not witness or support times of metamorphosis.
Nascence is the term that describes a coming into being. As women we have many obvious nascences in our lives: Adolescence (the beginning of our menstrual cycle), Matrescence (becoming a mother), and Cronescence (I’ve made up this word to represent entering perimenopause and menopause). There are other times of course, with every big life change, but these are the ones who share a process of death and rebirth that is not only happening on a visible physical level, but in the mind and the soul too. These times share is the undoing of who we were to allow who we are to become to be born.
The film Inside out is an anime movie about the emotions in the brain of Riley, a young girl as she enters adolescence. In her brain, as well as characters representing 5 major emotions who rule her behaviours (joy, sadness, fear, disgust and anger), there are islands that represent different aspects of Riley’s personality. As she goes through the beginning of puberty some of these islands are destroyed, much to the dismay of the characters in her brain who try and do everything they can to stop them from crumbling. Eventually, new islands emerge, which the characters are delighted with.
The crumbling is scary because it feels like everything we have worked for is being destroyed. And we then find ourselves on barren ground, where there are no landmarks. It can feel very disorientating, and frightening. There is no path ahead. Things no longer make sense.
Science tells us that the crumbling literally happens in the brain during periods like adolescence, matrescence and cronescence, as neurons and neuronal connections are pruned, and what is no longer relevant is removed, and the brain is remodelled.
So what can we do to support ourselves through the challenge of becoming undone?
I am on the exploratory path of this myself once more, and sharing what I find helpful. I hope you may find some aspect work for you too. Remember because it works for me, it may not work for you. We are all unique with unique brains and bodies. If you try things, though, you’ll quickly know what helps and what doesn’t. Start with what you feel excited about trying.
Body stuff
- Find ways to be present and ground in your body. It can be a simple of feeling the weight of your body on your feet, or where you are sitting. Or try the trick of noticing 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.
- Develop a regular movement practice. Start small, even just 5 minutes can make a huge difference. It doesn’t matter whether it’s yoga, or a walk, a run, or putting some music on and having a quick dance. When you feel in a funk it’s quite amazing what 5 min of movement can do to help you shift your state.
- Have some bodywork, like a massage. Bonus if a somatic massage. It can really help re-teach your body to feel calm. I’ve also found working with a holistic herbalist, an acupuncturist, and an osteopath helpful. Read what I wrote as for my doula colleagues in the past.
- Give yourself self care practises like a warm bath (I like to use salt and essential oil), or some gentle self massage (a few minutes massaging your feet feels great, especially with a magnesium balm). You can also try my Rebozo self care massage routine.
- Try a 5 rhythms dancing class, which is like meditation in movement. It ticks the body, mind and spirit boxes all at once. It’s one of my favourite practises, and so much fun to do, and I also now belong to a large community of fantastic people. There are online as well as face to face classes.
Mind stuff
- Meditate/practise mindfulness. It’s easier than you think and you can also start with just a few minutes. Watch this cool animated video which debunks a lot of myths. There are free apps like Insight Timer, which offer guided meditations of various lengths to get you started.
- Connect to your breath. Three mindful breaths is often all it takes to shift your energy.
- Listen to drumming tracks, it slows down your brain and allows more spaciousness of thoughts. Or even better, take up drumming, and/or join a drum circle. Search for shamanic drumming on youtube or spotify. Read this short post where I explain more, complete with a link to a drum journey.
- Singing is also a beautiful way to uplift both mind and spirit. Join a local community choir and enjoy both the vocal and community support experience.
Spiritual stuff
- Journaling. When I feel overwhelmed, spending 5 minutes writing “what does my soul want to tell me” helps me organise my thoughts. You could draw or mindmap too.
- Make a vision board as a way to invite what you want more of in your life
- Develop a spiritual practice that is meaningful for you. I like to have altars around my house. In this blog post I tell you how to make one.
- Read my story about my quest to bring more sacredness in my life
I have 3 favourite practises because they tick all 3 boxes at once (mind, body and spirit). I do these weekly or more.
- Year round swimming in my local river. I took this up in 2018 years ago and I’m now entering my 5th winter of swimming. Read more about that here.
- 5Rhythms and other forms of mindful movement/dancing meditation. I’ve tried 5rhythms, Freedom dance, Open floor, Ecstatic awakening dance, and Zero one.
“Conscious dance is a free form of dance that anyone can do, whatever their age, shape, gender, mobility or fitness level. No prior knowledge is needed, there are no steps to learn and nothing to get right. It allows you to connect your body to the music, and, if you like, to connect with others in non-verbal communication of common movement. Let go of your mind, let the music move through your body to awaken your heart, find richness and openness in your life” . This quote is from the Cambsdance community website. There are similar practises all around the UK and the world.
- Shamanic drumming. I do this outdoors at dawn on a weekly basis with 2 friends. I’ve done it since May 2020 and it has been an incredible source of support. Read more about how drumming became a self care practise for me here.
Despite these practises, I am currently experiencing major challenges. The practises still serve me, and I am also learning to develop micropractises during the day when I notice I am feeling triggered, or overwhelmed (this happens often). The trick is not to try and chase the feelings away, but to feel them deeply and allow them to pass through you. Remember: the only way out is through, and the only way through is to be with whatever wants to be expressed of felt.
Finally, be gentle with yourself. Becoming undone is deep, hard work, and it can take a long time. It is especially hard to do in the culture that doesn’t recognise it as “work” and want you to only be “your best self” at all times.
Don’t waste energy beating yourself up wishing that you were further along the journey. You are exactly where you need to be.
I take solace in this quote from Brene Brown’s book, Braving the Wilderness, where she quotes Joseph Campbell : “If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.”
November 18, 2022
My ADHD treatment journey : why I hated taking antidepressants
A few months ago I shared about my experience of trying ADHD medication and the difference it made, and how it convinced me I should get diagnosed and treated.
The experience led me to start the process of getting a formal ADHD diagnosis, in order to access treatment. I soon realised that it is another lengthy, hard, and time consuming process.
I spoke to my GP, who after making me answer the questionnaire, confirmed that it was very likely I had ADHD (I scored 22 out of 24, but already knew this), but that the waiting list for NHS diagnosis (let alone treatment) would be 18 months to 2 years. I requested a right to choose referral with Psychiatry UK, which should reduce the wait down to a few months. I also investigated going private, but the psychiatrists I was recommended also had months long waiting lists.
Most of my time and energy are currently being used battling the education and health systems to get support for one of my children, who is also neurodivergent. I tried to get the ball rolling for myself, but gave up because I just didn’t have the time or energy to do it. I had to chase my GP surgery weekly for 6 weeks, just for the right to choose referral forms to be filled in (and this is despite being present in person at my local surgery on a weekly basis or more due to my child’s situation).
My family circumstances and my ADHD compounded by perimenopause (it can make ADHD and anxiety worse; and it certainly did for me), meant that my mental health suffered. I was feeling stressed, anxious and overwhelmed, at a level that made managing everyday life impossible. I was falling apart and begging for anything that would help. Because it was the only thing that my GP was was able to offer without having to wait for months, and I was desperate, I accepted a prescription for SSRI antidepressants. Having researched what seemed to be most helpful for ADHD people, I asked for Paroxetine.
I started taking Paroxetine mid September. It didn’t seem to help my mood, and I hated how it made me feel. I felt numb, disconnected from myself, joyless. When I went to my weekly 5rhythms dance session, something I used to always look forward to, I couldn’t connect to the dance, or to myself, and ended up spending a large amount of the session sitting on the floor, feeling unhappy, and wanting to go home. To make things worse, within a week of taking the antidepressant, I discovered that I was no longer able to have an orgasm.
From my scientific career and having attended conferences that talked about SSRIs and sexual health, I remembered that those side effects were common for this type of drugs. The impact on sex life are rarely explained to patients prior to prescription (informed consent anyone?), yet it is a common reason why people stop taking them. In a review paper, I found the following data “SSRIs may cause sexual dysfunction in 40% to 65% of individuals, these side effects may exacerbate depression and create a barrier to medication adherence”. No kidding!
I was not hugely bothered about the lack of sexuality per se, because my mental health was so dire that if the drugs had made me feel better I would have put up with that. The straw that broke the antidepressant’s back was the fact that this was another example of how this drug was making me disconnected from life itself. I wanted to be able to cope better with life’s ups and downs. The SSRIs not only didn’t achieve that, it made me feel like a narrowed down version of myself.
Interestingly, when I had taken the plant based version of SSRIs, St John’s Wort, for several months when I suffered from depression in 2019, I had never experienced this numbing and disconnection feeling, and it had helped me climb up from the bottom of the pit I was in at the time.
My experience taking SSRIs felt both numbing and sharp, like a knife, cutting me from myself. Since taking St John’s wort had felt supportive in the past, I had an insight that this is because synthetic drugs are extremely narrow in their target, only hitting one process in the brain, whereas plant medicines contain many different substances, which act in synergy. As a spiritual and energy sensitive person, I also felt that synthetic drugs are disconnected from the web of life, because of the way they are produced in the lab, separated from their source of origin, whereas plant medicines are more connected, because the plant carries its own energy and the connection to the energy of the earth.
I spent some time meditating on the different medicines, writing them down, putting them on my altar, to see how they suited me. Having considered switching to St John’s wort, however, from trying the ADHD meds, I also knew I would need something different if it was to support my symptoms. I had wondered about microdosing with a plant medicine for some time because several of my friends were doing it and reported amazing effects on mood and wellbeing. In fact that medicine sat in my house for 6 months but I felt scared to try it. It really is quite fascinating to me that I had to experience what pharmaceutical drugs felts like to free me of my fear.
The week I considered trying, the universe sent me very clear signals, because for a few days, everywhere I went I ended up speaking someone new who told me how life changing it had been for them. I sat at a diner party next to a psychotherapist who wanted to blend psychotherapy and this kind of medicine. I went to a survival skills workshop in the woods, the teacher had some interesting tattoo and they turned out to be replica of this plant medicine carvings found in Algeria, which he had done after an experience with the medicine cured him of PTSD. A friend of mine shared that she was embarking on a 18 months long training as a microdosing coach, it just went on and on for days until I finally said : OK universe, I think I got the message.
I stopped the SSRIs after about a month, tapering them off slowly, then I started this new medicine journey, supported by a couple of experienced friends. One of them even came to my house to hold me through my first dose of the medicine, and it felt very safe. I am a month into this new experience, and my life has been transformed. I plan to write another post telling this story when I am ready.
October 28, 2022
ADHD and the kindness boomerang: a lesson in appreciating your gifts.
Since I discovered that I have ADHD a few months ago, I have started the steep learning curve of understanding what it means for me. I have read many books, listened to many podcasts, and been in various support groups online. This exploration is showing me something very clear: that I am, and have always been, very hard on myself. I am starting to see more clearly how this pattern plays up in my life.
One of the ways it manifests is that it makes me blind to my gifts (what comes to me easily), and hard on myself I could do better, work harder, do more etc.
For example, in the summer I attended a friend’s birthday. As it was fairly short notice I didn’t have the time to craft the gift I would have liked to make for her (a shamanic rattle). Instead I collected some items in my house I knew she would like, and gifted them to her. She was delighted with them but I couldn’t help but feel this wasn’t quite what I wanted to give. I attended a dance retreat last month. I had planned to bake a cake but I ran out of time so I made a chia chocolate pudding instead, because it was quicker. Many people approached me asking for the recipe, as they found it incredibly delicious. I was amazed as I contemplated the contrast between my standards (how I was judging myself for making what felt like a cop-out, versus the reaction people gave me).
For as long as I can remember, I have been a nurturer. It’s no wonder I became a doula, and it’s no wonder I became a healer. Because these things come to me easily, I tend to forget about the many caring acts I have done for other people. Because it comes to me so easily that I don’t think it’s a big deal. I wrote about this in my blog post Do you confuse productivity with effort?
This week-end I had an even deeper learning moment about this in the most beautiful touching way. Knowing how much I am struggling with my mental health at the moment, a group of friends from my local conscious dancing community got together and organised a healing ceremony for me.
When I arrived at my friend’s house, the first thing I saw was a massage table laid with several rebozos on top of it. I asked “where did you get all these rebozos?” and they reminded me that I had gifted them to them over the last couple of years. I had completely forgotten that I had done that. I also noticed deep discomfort at the idea of being at the receiving end of such love and care, like somehow I didn’t deserve it. I noticed how I am more comfortable in giving than in receiving.
My friends had made an altar. They held me as I cried, they invited me to pick a couple of beautiful tarot cards, which were placed on the altar. They held me, wrapped me with the rebozos, massaged me, and drummed over me as I laid on the massage table. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.
After the ritual I felt soft and warm and deeply loved and cared for. Then we read the tarot cards, and we had tea with a cake they had baked for me. I left my friend’s house with a deep sense of joy and gratitude. I felt loved, and belonging, and deeply cared for.
It felt like such a beautiful example of a kindness boomerang. An example of how blind we can be about the love we put into people, and how it can come back to us in the most beautiful and unexpected way. My friends also reminded me that they were able to give me this ritual because I had taught it to them (I taught it for free as part of the dance retreat, the one where I didn’t bake a cake…).
Does this resonate? Do you too notice that you are blind to your gifts, that you dismiss them as not being a big deal because they come easily to you? If so I invite you to share stories in the comments, and also to notice this pattern in your life, so you can be more gentle on yourself.

October 21, 2022
Making an altar to set intentions for your life and work
If you want more spirituality in your life, more meaningful ways to connect to yourself and your inner voice, and the world around you, and a more feminine way to set intentions and goals, have you ever tried creating an altar?
I started by creating a season table to help my children visualise the turning of year many years ago, when they were small. Over the years it slowly morphed into an altar. In fact I have several altars in my house. I use them to help me focus on what I want to bring more into my life, and to remind me of tuning in, and of what is important to me right now.
Creating an altar is a bit like creating a vision board. It is like a 3D vision board. It is a way to give form to your desires and to help you stay on track with what you want to bring more of in your life. It also helps me to bring more spirituality into everyday life.
What is an altar?
- The Merrian Webster dictionary defines an altar as “a table or place which serves as a center of worship or ritual”.
- I believe that our lack of rituals leaves us feeling disconnected to ourselves and to each other. We need spirituality in our lives the way we need food and water, lest we feel longing and emptiness.
- When I visit cultures where spirituality is still part of everyday life, such as my husband’s birth place of Hong Kong, I notice that people have little altars everywhere, and that they aren’t restricted to places of worship. You find them at the entrance of people’s homes, as well as inside. People place offerings on these altars, such as flowers or fruits, and often burn incense.
- For me an altar is a way to give form to your connection to your own desire for spirituality and connection.
How do you make an altar?
- An altar can be simple or intricate. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that it feels true and good to you. Often, less is more.
- It can, but doesn’t have to, include religious symbols or figures. The most important thing is that it resonates with you.
- It can be as simple as a picture or a card, and a candle. You could put in on a mantle piece, a windowsill, or a shelf.
- It can include objects, such pictures/cards, figures and stones that feel special to you, and/or that represent something that you want more of in your life, or in the life of your loved ones. It can include some form of incense (or an essential oil diffuser).
- You could also choose to include objects to represent the four elements : air (feather), fire (candle), earth (stone), and water (a cup or small bottle with water).
- It can be permanent or temporary, and it can be made in nature as well as indoors. When I drum in the woods with my drum sisters, we co-create an altar from a mix of personal objects and things we find in nature (it’s different every time), and animal cards. We remove it after we are done drumming. Many of the outdoor dances and retreats I have taken part in involve the creation of a community altar. A mandala made from objects found in nature could be considered an altar.
- I usually make an altar when I teach ritual workshops or when running mother blessings.
What do I use on my altar?
Here is a list of everything I placed on my latest one. My altars change according to my focus and mood, and throughout the year too (I aim to refresh it every 3 months or so). I love magical objects and I have accumulated a rather large collection over the years, so please do not feel that you have to copy me, I only provide this list for inspirations and ideas:
- A cloth to cover the table
- Bear totem, cards, framed picture, altar cloth, wand, stone and drum beater by Jaine Rose (can you tell I’m a fan of her work?)
- Healing doll, and custom drumming doll by Fabricsoul
- Clay dish by Eslpeth Owen
- Miniature Amma doll (blessed by Amma)
- Various crystals
- Phoenix Egg (homemade gift from a friend)
- Triskel painted stone
- Items found in nature : seashell, hagstone, staurolite, feathers (Heron, swan, Macaw)
- Small clay dish made by my daughter
- Painted stones
September 1, 2022
Feeling like a blank slate
Do you feel like a blank slate at the moment? Like everything you knew and used to do has been reset somewhat and you don’t quite know where you are going? I’ve been feeling like this myself for the last 6 months or so and I want to share my experience to give insight and hope, and help you understand the power that exists in such a state.
A few months ago I stopped working as a doula after ten years in this role. A period of intense discomfort followed. Now things have mellowed a bit but I still feel some low level of unknowing that makes me feel rudderless and unsettled. Patience isn’t my strength, and my ADHD brain functions at the speed of knots, so it’s difficult for me to accept a period of what feels like fallowness.
However, having been through this process many times in my life, I recognise the signature of power and new beginnings. This time it feels softer than the forced situation that I experienced in 2019. Maybe it feels softer because this time this is a crisis of my own doing. Nobody booted me out of my position. I chose to remove myself from my current role, which means that energy feels very different.
Last Autumn I had a realisation that I needed to step out of doula work in order to be able to realise my next vocation, which is to help people connect and lead from the heart instead of from the mind. The scary bit is that I had to step into the void in order to let this process happen. The other scary bit is that I do not yet know what the offer will actually look like.
This time I chose to initiate the phoenix process myself. The rebirth is slower than I expected. Some days I feel calm and trusting in the process. Some days I feel the power of the void. Some days I feel irritable and frustrated. I want it to happen NOW! Yet something in me know that this isn’t the time yet, and that I have to spend some more time in the strange in-between (which is very similar to waiting for labour to start). Some inner wisdom knows that there is no point in trying to push water uphill. I need to surrender to the flow. Maybe that is part of the lesson I need to embody in order to progress to the next step.
The process is like a train going through a tunnel, you cannot skip it, get out before it is finished, or speed it up, lest you’ll end up missing out on the lesson and have to go through it again until you get it. I guess it is easier because I’ve been there before and I have the insight and perspective of knowing that I’ll come out from the other side eventually. It doesn’t mean that it’s not challenging at times, but at least this time I have awareness of what is going on inside of me when I get frustrated.
If this is what’s happening for you too, right now, I am not surprised because I feel that many of us are going through this accelerated growth at the moment. I see it around me, and in many of my friends. It’s a bit like when you’ve just had a baby and your old life don’t fit anymore. And you don’t know who you are anymore. It’s like you’re been broken into puzzle pieces and they cannot yet be assembled again.
When you feel like a blank slate, this is because in order to grow and process things and rearrange the puzzle pieces, you have to let them go for now. So it can feel like everything you’ve learnt and done is no longer relevant. It can feel very unsettling.
I’ve been feeling for some time that I no longer want to teach most of the things I’ve learnt from others, but rather create my own teaching from scratch and from my own unique experience, and help others do this for themselves. At this moment in time, we no longer need gurus but get insight from our inner knowing.
Last year I tried this out for the first time by creating a workshop about running mother blessings. I purposefully avoided looking at anybody else’s teachings, or read any books, and created the course for my own knowledge alone. People who attended the course and had already trained with me said it was the best course they had attended. I since made this knowledge into an online course.
I’m ‘blank slated’ about other things I used to teach too. I no longer want to teach Reiki, but rather something else entirely new, which would be more uniquely tailored and individual form of intuitive healing.
It is tempting to feel that I have learnt all these skills for nothing, and that I am wasting all these years of experience. Except I know that, when the time is right, the right pieces will reassemble themselves in the right order (and maybe some pieces will no longer be there and that’s ok too).
I’m at the cusp of the menopause which is a rite of passage and transformation of its own. And I find it fascinating that I left science and started working as a doula exactly when my perimenopause started, and that I’m doing a similar huge change as I near the end of the process. I’ve also only recently learnt that the process led me to tip fully into ADHD when I was only borderline before.
Perimenopause in some ways feels quite similar to puberty (although the changes are less visible externally and the energy is quite different). In the movie Inside out, a young girls’ emotions are represented by 5 personified characters who lead her brain. As she goes through puberty some parts of her brain disappear and new ones grow. I like this image (in fact I think I may watch the film again). Research tells us that this isn’t just figurative as brain cells do die in a “pruning” fashion during puberty and the menopause (a process called apoptosis).
When parts of ourselves no longer serve us it can be difficult to let go. It can feel like we need to grieve too, very much as we do during other identity transformations such as puberty and new motherhood.
If this feels true for you now, I’d love to hear about your experiences.
Here are some of the people/books I enjoy and have found that provide supportive insight during times of transformation:
- Lee Harris, an energy intuitive who provide a free monthly energy update on YouTube
- Pamela Gregory, an astrologer, who provides a free monthly update on YouTube
Books (I often listen to audiobooks whilst I drive or cook):
- Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow by Elizabeth Lesser
- The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief by Francis Weller
- Untamed by Glennon Doyle (I have read this one several times)
- All the books written by Brene Brown (I’m a fan), and especially Braving the Wilderness
- Energy Speaks by Lee Harris
- Belonging By Toko-pa Turner
Practises that help me to process my emotions and stay grounded
- Placing my bare feet on the earth
- Year round wild water swimming
- 5rhythms dancing (a form of movement meditation, where you simply move to music according to what your body wants to do)
- Shamanic drumming
“You and I are the Phoenix. We too can reproduce ourselves from the shattered pieces of a difficult time. Our lives ask us to die and to be reborn every time we confront change—change within ourselves and change in our world. When we descend all the way down to the bottom of a loss, and dwell patiently, with an open heart, in the darkness and pain, we can bring back up with us the sweetness of life and the exhilaration of inner growth. When there is nothing left to lose, we find the true self—the self that is whole, the self that is enough, the self that no longer looks to others for definition, or completion, or anything but companionship on the journey. This is the way to live a meaningful and hopeful life—a life of real happiness and inner peace. This is the Phoenix Process.” Elizabeth Lesser, broken open.
August 26, 2022
Embracing the void
Both discomfort and power lies in transitional times.
Since I decided to stop doulaing in April, I have felt unsettled, agitated and overwhelmed. I’m having a hard time feeling comfortable in this transition time. I’m finding it difficult to surrender to what is, and to trust that the path will unfold before me at the pace it’s meant to.
I’m an impatient person at heart, and this is a big challenge for me. In previous blogs I have shared about my leaving doula work and the wisdom of fallow times. Today I want to reflect on embracing the void.
The void is the fertile space in which you are no longer what you were and you are not yet what you are to become. It is a death space of sorts, a bit like the time where you are heavily pregnant and you wish your body would hurry up and give birth. Being heavily pregnant often comes with both physical and emotional discomfort, and this is no different.
There are many metaphors, from the metaphysical process of transforming lead into gold, which goes through a phase called Massa Enigma (where is it neither lead nor gold), through to the death and rebirth of the mythical phoenix.
I’m in this space now. And like waiting for birth, I have moments of quiet acceptance and moments of rage and irritation, as well as moments of despair. I notice that I will myself to be further along the path, and there lies the suffering, in not accepting what is.
I am undergoing a huge transition in my sense of self and my work. There is added discomfort in the complexity of my family situation, with a child who is too anxious to attend school and on behalf of whom we are fighting the education system to get the support needed, and a young dog whose needs are intense, much like a new baby.
I feel stretched and overwhelmed a lot of the time, with balancing the demands of my family and my work, and end up feeling that I’m not doing any of them very well. The fact that I am nearly menopaused, so going through an inner transition and discomfort at a physical and spiritual level is a big part of it too.
I notice that there is something in me that wants to be ‘ahead’ of where I currently am. That I have impossibly high expectations of myself (of which I mostly fall short). I think this is a very important thing to be curious about and to learn to recognise and tame. I’m currently reading a book called How To Keep House When You are Drowning, by KC Davis. She talks about self-compassion and of recognising when your inner voice isn’t kind.
Last week-end I met with a young couple who have offered to look after my dog from time to time. My dog is a 6 months old, 25kg, energetic golden retriever puppy. I’ve spent the last 2 months taking him to dog obedience classes, and I’ve been berating myself because I haven’t practised the training exercises enough for my liking. I was worried that the couple would find it hard work (he pulls on the lead and his recall is hit and miss still), but instead they said they found him very well behaved. And these are people who are used to dogs, and the woman is a vet. I felt this deep sense of relief. Then one of my daughter’s tutors commented on how amazing it is that Blue doesn’t jump on visitors. I reflected that, once again, what was stressing me was the impossible expectations I put on myself.
I told my husband of my overwhelm (thankfully he is a trained counsellor) and he replied that if an athlete was unwell he wouldn’t be expected to run. And I stopped and nearly laughed because I use this analogy all the time, but I had forgotten to apply it to myself. Isn’t it funny how we have this inner wisdom, yet how blind we are to our own process? Indeed, nobody would expect an injured athlete to train until they had healed. Yet when it comes to mental health challenges we try to push through and force ourselves to carry on, when we need to focus on our healing first, and cut ourselves some slack. After all, we are doing the best we can.
In her book, Rising Strong, Brene Brown asks herself and people if they believe that people are doing the best they can. At first she believes that no, people aren’t, and that they are annoying on purpose. And then she asks her husband who says “All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgment and lets me focus on what is, and not what should or could be.”
After the athlete’s conversation, it dawned on me that I was, yet again, trying to force myself out of a funk by working harder. I realised that I needed to surrender to my discomfort and take the time to tend to the struggle and emotions inside. Instead of trying to push through and tackle my ever growing to-do list, I took myself to the office to do some work on what I need to start doing to be more connected to my heart. I will write about why I am doing this and why it is the most important thing I need to do right now in a separate blog.
I took this time for myself, about one hour, and I lied down and listened to a drum journey track, asking to be shown how to connect to my heart, and I was shown what to do. I felt much better afterwards.
A few days later, I was listening to Lee Harris’s energy update for this month (I used to feel I didn’t have the time but now I listen to this kind of things on a speaker in my kitchen whilst making diner and I love it) and he said that there is wisdom in overwhelm, because it is teaching us what is no longer working for us. I hadn’t thought of it this way, and it helped.
As serendipity would have it, later that day not one but two people I follow shared a similar message. In my inbox, I received this message from Shelley Young, who channels Archangel Gabriel:
“Dear Ones, you can’t be controlling and guided at the same time. You can’t decide you are going to do it all yourself and be open to receive at the same time. You are going through profound change, both individually and as a collective. You are being made aware of what is not working for you so you can let go of the old and find new solutions and ways of being.
If you are perpetually exhausted by your life it is a sign that you have outgrown where you are and you are ready for expansion and new discoveries. It is an indicator that you are ready to up-level into something that is a much better match for you and your soul’s agenda. Your soul is beckoning you forward into the new.
So allow yourself to be led. When you don’t know what to do next, get curious. Ask to be shown what is possible that you aren’t aware of. Give the reins to your team who have the vantage point of being on the other side of the veil and allow them to show you the way.”
And then Toko-Pa Turner, the author of the wonderful book Belonging, Remembering ourselves home, shared this on her Facebook page:
“Drop your maps and listen to your lostness like a sacred calling into presence. Here, where the old ways are crumbling and you may be tempted to burn down your own house. Ask instead for an introduction to that which endures. This place without a foothold is the province of grace. It is the questing field, most responsive to magic and fluent in myth. Here, where there is nothing left to lose, sing out of necessity that your ragged heart be heard. Send out your holy signal and listen for the echo back.”
These messages were very soothing for me. They were just what I needed to hear. I don’t need to force it, to be further ahead in my path than I am right now. There is power in the in-between now, and power in embracing the void. It is a fertile ground for the new.
June 17, 2022
The wisdom of fallow times
A few weeks ago I attended my last birth as a doula. As I explained in a previous post, this was a long drawn-out decision that took me a couple of years to reach.
When I wrote the previous blog whilst on-call for the birth, after attending my last birth, I expected to feel relieved, free, elated even. Instead, the month after the birth I felt unsettled, irritable, anxious, and I have even been physically unwell (I had a nasty fall which left me in pain and unable to move comfortably for a couple of weeks despite 2 osteopathic treatments).
Transitions aren’t comfortable and the body has a way of forcing us to slow down when we do not heed its wisdom.
I experienced a similar time in 2020 after I published my book. Finishing to write the book on time and the whirlwind of promotion, press article and interviews surrounding the book launch were an exciting and high energy time. Then, I had a period of fallowness that lasted months and I beat myself up endlessly about it, as if I ought to be staying in a high energy state all the time.
I have been reflecting on the cycle of birth and death around us, and in particular, on the importance and wisdom of fallow times. If you look in nature, trees don’t bear fruits all year round. The cycle of birth and death is very visible. Right now the spring energies are rising and it is very clear in the growth of plants everywhere around us.
A few days ago it finally occurred to me: I’m in the same transitional process as a pregnant woman waiting to give birth. The Zwischen, the in-between time where you’re not what you were and not yet what you are about to become. And it’s wholly uncomfortable. And the wait is met some days with patience and acceptance, and some days with irritation and impatience.
Now that I’ve given up birth doula, my sense of professional identity is shifting.
I’m not doing nothing, I’m in the process of giving birth to my new self. I need to give myself the same gentle nurturing care as I tell new mothers to give themselves. I remind myself of the words I often speak when a new mum is telling me that she is doing ‘nothing’ when caring for a new baby, and I remind her that she is doing the most important task that there is.
The process is heightened by the fact that I’m transitioning towards the menopause, having been in the perimenopause process for over ten years, which is a transition in itself.
I had several healing treatments over the last few weeks, including osteopathy and womb massage. Whilst these things help and play a role in recovery, they aren’t enough. I have to make a true commitment to accept the slower, less productive nature of this time, and to stop fighting against it.
I reached out to the lovely herbalist who is supporting me through the hormonal challenges of the menopause, and asked what may be causing the resurgence of hot flashes and night sweats despite the support of the herbs, and she said “it’s a sign that your yin is out of balance and that you need to rest more”.
I have written about embracing rest several times in the past (For example in a post called resting after birthing a project, in which you will find links to my other posts on the topic), and I have come a long way from the place where I was before, where I wasn’t even conscious of this pattern of wanting to keep all the time. But it’s still difficult. The pattern is deep, and it is strong, and we are bathing in a culture that worships productivity, and which is completely blind to this pattern.
It’s a process of continuous self development and growth, to become aware of one’s patterns, of the negative self-talk that come from deep cultural programming that says that your productivity is your worth.
I like the idea of being more like an egg than a sperm. The egg does not ‘go and get it’, it simply sits there, sending signals that it is ready. In her book, The Anatomy Of A Calling, which tells her process from being a mainstream thinking Obstetrician to becoming a holistic doctor and energy healer, Dr Lissa Rankin tells how Dr Christiane Northrup told her to be more ‘eggy’:
“Lissa is brilliant at doing, but she needs to learn how to receive. Lissa needs to be less sperm, more egg. To be ‘eggy’ is to set goals but release attachment to outcomes, to surrender to what wants to happen rather than pushing for what you’re trying to make happen, to put your desires out there without doing anything to bring them into being, to simply trust that when you move in the direction of joy, ease, peace, harmony, love, and the highest good for all beings, the Universe, like an army of sperm, falls over itself trying to bring your desires into form.”
I posted this meme on Facebook, to remind myself and others of this truth.
I still have some work to do before I am freed from beating myself up when I’m in a fallow time, but I am a lot more able to recognise it, and to at least try to embrace it and to trust its wisdom. I have noticed time and time again that the minute I surrender to the wisdom of fallow times, and embrace the need to slow down instead of fighting it, things seem to shift almost instantly, because I finally allow the energy of what wants to move through me instead of trying to direct it.
May 20, 2022
Do you long for more sacredness in your life?
Do you long for a more meaningful life, for a sense of connection to something bigger than yourself? Do you feel this longing in your heart, in your bones? Like something is missing but you don’t know what? Do you have this deep knowing inside that life is meant to feel bigger than it does for you now?
I used to feel the same. I can still see myself witnessing my first closing the bones ceremony and wishing it was me on the floor receiving the ritual. I can still feel the excitement, as I attended my first doula retreat in 2013, how beautiful and sacred it all felt, and then how much returning to my normal life, especially with 2 young children to care for, felt so bland, so lacking in connection and full of drudgery. I longed to go back to the feeling that this amazing, spiritual retreat gave me.
Now I know that the issue was that I was looking elsewhere, outside of myself, for the sacred. The issue wasn’t’ with the lack of sacred in my life, but with my narrow view of what constituted sacredness.
When I attended women’s circles, red tents, retreats and such like, something in me believed that the ‘sacred’ only happened in this limited container. What took me a long time was to learn to weave the sacred in my everyday life.
I had the same issue when I started to learn to meditation because I believed that meditation only happened sitting on a special pose on a special cushion in a special room. I was unconsciously victim of a culture that puts form over substance.
I was missing and longing for more sacredness partly because it IS missing from most of our culture, but also partly because of my own unconscious and narrow definition of what the sacred was.
It has taken me a long time to create a sense of sacredness in my daily life, in a way where it feels natural and normal and simple. There is a saying I love : “Before enlightenment, chop the wood, fetch the water, after enlightenment, chop the wood, fetch the water” which illustrates this beautifully.
As I explained in my previous blog about mother blessings, I started offering such ceremonies to meet my own, and my community’s needs for more rituals and sacred celebrations.
I also pursued my own energy healing training, as a Reiki , then Reiki Drum practitioner, then teacher, first and foremost to fulfil my own longing, and for my own development. What came from it though was a lot more than I had hoped for, as it started to reconnect me to my own sense of the sacred.
I wanted to be part of a shamanic drum circle. There wasn’t one locally so I started my own early in 2020. I had assumed I would gather a handful of friends who already had a drum, so it was a surprise to see that most people who attended didn’t own a drum nor had taken part in a drum circle before. And it was also a surprise to find a lot more people attending than I had expected. Clearly those people also experienced my longing for spiritual connection in community. The pandemic meant that I ended up running circles in a physical venue, then online, then outdoors in the woods, then in a friend’s garden, all of which were diverse and rich experiences which deepened my practise. Now I’m planning to run them in a new venue in the woods, near Cambridge, in a private woodland. We will drum around a fire and maybe even in the beautiful geodome built by a dear friend of mine. Feel free to contact me if you’d like to join us.
In 2020, I started a practice of drumming in the woods at dawn weekly or more with 2 other women. We have drummed in all weather, including in driving rain and in the cold and dark before dawn in winter. I am grateful for owning a synthetic drum which can cope with the changing weather! We are still doing it 2 years on. We make an altar, set intentions, smudge, drum, and then we sit down with a flask of tea to chat about more mundane things. I love it.
The other 2 practises that have transformed my life in terms of sense of connection are year round wild swimming in the local river (read about how I started that here) and 5rhythms dancing.
Since the Autumn of 2019, every Friday night, I have danced with the Cambsdance community. We dance 5rhythms, ecstatic dance, freedom dance, open floor and other forms of conscious movement. There are no steps, or ‘right’ way to dance. Teachers bring a playlist they have created, which moves from slow and flowy music to fast, strong paced music and back again. They hold the space gently, providing limited guidance, a few words here and there to remind you to pay attention to your breath, or your feet, or another body part, or to each other. All that is required is to dance according to what is moving inside of you. It is a moving meditation, in community with others people who also love to dance. It lasts a couple of hours. It is the antithesis of clubbing. There is a wise range of ages and genders, a range of cultures and styles. Everybody dances in their own unique way, and nobody gives a fuck about what you look like when you dance. It is one of the most liberating practices I have taken part in. It is joyful and beautiful and oh so transformative. You can dance your joy, your grief, everything is welcome. It was a big part of my recovery when I suffered from depression in 2019.
Some of the dancers have become close friends, with whom I take part in regular community gatherings, celebrating the wheel of the year, and generally connecting as humans in a simple, fun and loving way. I especially love that all the gatherings are drug and alcohol free. We are high on connection, feel good hormones and love. There is often some dancing involved, and singing and drumming too.
I have been reflecting on the fact that all cultures around the world used to have 3 practices that belonged both to everyday life and to the sacred. But here, today in the modern world, we think that only special people, gifted people can do them. These practices are singing, drumming and dancing.
Having taught workshops that involve a big element of spirituality since 2014, I have witnessed the same longing in others again and again, especially when leading people throw circles and ceremonies.
This longing I sense in others is why I want to offer more ceremonies, more mother blessings, more drum circles, more intuitive healing, and teach more rituals (such as the postnatal closing ritual). We need to create new rituals for our modern times. A sense of spirituality is as important to wellbeing as eating and drinking.
As I explore what sacredness means to me in my everyday life, I encourage others to follow their own journey of reintroducing sacredness to their own lives.
If you feel the same longing in your heart and you want to create a more beautiful life for yourself, listen carefully to what your heart is telling you. We aren’t meant to live such disconnected lives. You deserve a life where you feel more connected to yourself, to your community and to the world around you. Start small. Be gentle. Try things and see what works for you.
“The worst thing we ever did
was put God in the sky
out of reach
pulling the divinity
from the leaf,
sifting out the holy from our bones,
insisting God isn’t bursting dazzlement
through everything we’ve made
a hard commitment to see as ordinary,
stripping the sacred from everywhere
to put in a cloud man elsewhere,
prying closeness from your heart.
The worst thing we ever did
was take the dance and the song
out of prayer
made it sit up straight
and cross its legs
removed it of rejoicing
wiped clean its hip sway,
its questions,
its ecstatic yowl,
its tears.
The worst thing we ever did is pretend
God isn’t the easiest thing
in this Universe
available to every soul
in every breath”
~ Chelan Harkin, in poetry book ‘Susceptible to Light’
May 13, 2022
The maternity machine
Today I went from a house
Where a woman swayed as her body opened
Gently vocalising, in tune with herself
Warm water ready to embrace her
With candles as the only light
And two women sitting quietly
Watching and waiting
Whispering words of encouragement
Holding her and her space
Today I went from this sacred space
Where time slowed down
And all that mattered was this moment
And this woman
I went from this sacred space
Into the belly of the machine
With its bright lights
Its beeping tech
Its dry, cold, clinical rooms
And its dry, cold, clinical staff
In this space where everything is timed
Measured
Counted
Calculated
Where numbers are more important
Than the person they are supposed to be caring for
Today I went into the belly of the machine
That ‘saves’ lives
But destroys spirits
Where the sense of the sacred is lost
Where it’s just another day at the office
Where kind people are a rare find
And the mother is just a vessel
Where the machines take over
Where babies are born distressed
And nobody comforts them
The machine eats birthing women
Like an unsatisfiable beast
And spits them out, emptied of life
And emptied of spirit
Because as long as the baby is alive,
Who cares if the mother is broken?
Today I watched in a theatre
Medical staff milling around
Like a swarm of busy bees
Doing the tasks they have been trained to do
Told to do, programmed to do
Where nobody saw her
As she lied on the table
Reduced to her body parts
I heard them say “congratulations”
Like repeating a script, without meaning it
And as I sat there, I wondered:
How did they become so dehumanised?
And as I watched them, I wondered
How did they forget?
How to connect and how to be kind?
And as I watched, I told myself
I never want to be there again.
It is too late
They are too far gone
Blind to their own conditioning
In the maternity machine.
Play
April 20, 2022
Resting after intense work is a necessity not a luxury
Today I’ve mostly spent the day wearing a fluffy onesie and lounging on the sofa.
I made a mental note to only do the absolute bare minimum of what I absolutely had to do work wise.
Why did I do this? I’m not ill or anything like that.
I just needed to rest.
Yesterday I facilitated a postnatal recovery massage workshop in London with a group of birthworkers. It is was an exhilarating day, but also a long physically and mentally demanding one.
I got up at 5am, put all the stuff in Teddy’s car, we drove to London with all the gear (5 massage tables, covers, blankets, and many rebozos and other teaching bits), carried all the gear up to the studio, set up the room ready, welcomed the students, ran the course and held the space for everyone, packed everything up, carried it back to the car, drove back to Cambridge, and carried everything back to my house. I got home at 8pm and I was in bed by 9h30.
It you’ve trained with me you’ll know that I put a lot of energy, love and work in my teaching, so it is probably no wonder that I need to rest.
It has taken me over 8 years of self employment, some deep self discovery, and working with various mentors to understand the need to balance work and rest.
In the past I used to plough on after a day or two of facilitating workshops (and I used to run 2 or 3 a months prior to 2020). Then I wondered why I felt cranky and why my productivity and mood took a nose dive.
Now, after such a intense day I make a mental note to have a very quiet day afterwards. To refill my cup. To not do much at all.
I still hear a little voice in my head that tells me to keep going (the programming is strong!), but I listen to my body, and my body is telling me very loudly to take it easy.
The main reason I listen to my body’s wisdom is that I have learnt the hard way that if I ignore it, then I’ll pay the price for several days, achieve not much at all, feel unhappy about my lack of productivity, and beat myself up about it. So it makes a lot of sense to rest and recover. Athletes do it after a marathon after all.
It’s not just my body that needs rest, it’s my soul.
I give a lot of myself during this workshop. A lot of physical and spiritual energy.
It does make my heart sing. But I also need to honour the toll it takes on me.
As I get older, I notice that I need more recovery time, and also a more time alone and in quieter spaces, after spending time with people.
It was very helpful to have a human design reading with Bingz Huang recently, because she highlighted this very thing in my design, that I have the Hermit/Opportunist profile. This means that I need alone time after being with people. It felt very true and validating to hear this.
December 17, 2021

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