Category: knowledge

  • The Power of Persistence: Changing Illogical Rules within maternity care

    The Power of Persistence: Changing Illogical Rules within maternity care

    Twenty years or so ago, when I was swimming daily at my local public swimming pool, I managed to change the rules to allow the use of training fins.

    Prior to this, the pool had a blanket ban on the grounds of “safety”, whilst also allowing the use of hand paddles. Hand paddles are often made of hard plastic, and people use them ahead of them as they thrust forward, therefore they are, in my opinion, much more likely to cause a potential injury to another swimmer,Ā  than short training fins, which are made ofĀ  soft silicone rubber, and trail behind a swimmer.

    Keen to start improving my swim training drills by using fins, I discussed it with one of the managers by the pool side and he agreed to change the rules. That’s all it took, and I guess that not many people who use fins to train in this pool know how it got changed.

    Fast forward to today: about a month ago I joined a new gym/pool place nearer to my home. I went in as a guest of a friend who is a member and used my fins without issues. I decided to join because the pool, though not as nice as the private gym I had been a member of for year, was nice enough, much closer to my home, and much cheaper.Ā  It was only after I joined as a member that another lifeguard told me it wasn’t allowed, citing once again the safety risk. I challenged the rule’s logic as someone was swimming in the same lane using very large hand paddles. I explained the lack of logic in terms of risks. But this lifeguard was insistent that rules are rules, and was not interested in engaging in logical debate, even inventing reasons on the spot to justify the decision (something I’ve seen happen a lot in my work as a doula-more on that later).

    So I accepted that I would need to train without my beloved fins for now, since I had already joined this gym. However I also remembered my experience as the previous pool and knew that it was worth approaching the centre’s management. After all, I had nothing to lose by asking. I emailed the centre’s manager. Contrary to my 20 years ago self, I had grown in knowing that kindness often works better than bluntly pointing out the lack of logic in the rule. Instead, I expressed my surprise, explaining that I have been swimming for over 25 years in 6 different pools in Cambridge and that they all allow short fins. I also pointed out that I fully understood that not allowing the longer scuba style fins made sense in terms of safety (giving people a chance to see that I’m reasonable), but that I could not see the danger of the type of fins I used. I also made sure not to mention the hand paddles as the last thing I wanted was for them to ban them too.

    Amazingly, the manager replied to me within a couple of days, agreeing with me and telling me that they’dĀ  changed the rules. This morning I took great delight in bringing my fins to the pool. The delight went further than the fins themselves. I felt proud that I’d managed to change a rule that made no sense. This also felt doubly important because the gym in question is part of my local hospital, the one in which I attended births and MVP meetings during my 10 years as a doula. I knew from experience that hospitals tend to be sticklers for rules.

    Beyond the fin story, what I feel proud about and why I am sharing this, is that it take not take much to change the rules, and it has benefitted many people. It only takes one person to change silly rules that would otherwise remain. I’m allergic to rules that do not serve humanity and have no joined-up logic behind them. I’d like to encourage you to do the same.

    During my ten years as a doula, I also learnt that there are techniques that work better than other when trying to change rules, in order to avoid being met by the typical responde of “I’m obligated to operate within the boundaries set by the existing rules”. Here’s what I’ve learnt from trying to change rules in my local maternity hospital:

    • Find a champion

    It’s much easier to change things if you can find someone who works within the system, and who shares your vision for change. This is how I got to train the NICU nurses in learning to use baby carriers, after banging my head against the system for years. The same happened when an NHS trust hired me to train their midwives in using rebozo techniques for labour.

    • Use competitive pressure

    What helped me convince my local hospital to allow partners to stay overnight in the induction and postnatal wards, after banging my head against it without success, was mentioning the number of other hospitals nearby who were already doing it.

    • Stretch their minds

    When the subject of cord ties was brought up in an patient advocacy meeting, because doula clients were often meet with plain refusal (by people misunderstanding that guidelines are not the law, and always choosing to abide by ā€œthe rulesā€),Ā  most of the staff looked like we were crazy. I realised that they needed to stretch their minds a bit more, so I said ā€œand have you heard of cord burningā€ then spent a few minutes explaining what it was. After that they seem to think that the cord wasn’t so crazy after all. In the same way I have sometimes encouraged clients to ask for something outrageous that they had no intention of actually doing in their birth plan, in order to appear to be negotiating down. I’ll never forget the expression on the face of the consultant when my VBAC client, pregnant with twins, told him she was thinking of having them at home.

    • Call their bluff

    I have helped several doula clients get offered something they were told was not possible this way. I was granted access inside the hospital with a repeat birth client despite lockdown restrictions only allowing one birth partner, by my client writing to them that she’d stay at home instead of going to the birth centre if I wasn’t allowed in. I also had a client 43 weeks pregnant gain access to the birth centre by using the same strategy.

    • Pretend to follow the rules

    I’ve found that if a pregnant woman says something like ā€œIf I haven’t had the baby by x date I’ll have a caesareanā€ instantly removed the pressure of induction of labour. It doesn’t mean that you cannot change your mind again should said date comes and goes….

    I haven’t always been successful. On one occasion my attempt at changing the rules backfired. I was trying to encourage the hospital to change the illogical rule that only allows one partner inside the theatre. No doula was ever allowed in with her client and their partner (this rule was only bent once by a couple who were so assertive that they told staff they wouldn’t go in without me), and they used ridiculous claims of ā€œlack of spaceā€ (whilst allowing in students and private phlebotomists from cord banking companies), or ā€œsafety of mother and babyā€ (how exactly would a doula compromise this?). When I look back I could have gone about it in a more clever way (citing other hospitals doing it, and asking staff for the best person to talk to), and my discussions with the head of the delivery unit and the consultant anaesthetist resulted in not only no change to the rules, but a memo being circulated reminding everyone of the rule.

    It always baffles me when people follow rules without questioning them, or wondering if they are based on solid evidence, and simply do as they are told. I guess questioning things and tenacity are my blood. I also have a very strong sense of justice and deep aversion to rules that do not serve humanity or make no sense.Ā  I really like to support others in doing the same.

    With persistence, kindness and strategic approaches, we can all be change agents – questioning unreasonable rules and advocating for what makes sense and serves humanity.

    Does this resonate? Have you successfully changed rules, or banged your head against systems that refuse to change? Please comment below.

  • How listening to drumming can unlock your brain

    How listening to drumming can unlock your brain

    As an ex-scientist turned doula and healer, and as someone whose signature approach is to blend scientific and spiritual knowledge, I love above all else to help others embrace their woo. I also like give people a embodied experiences, because I believe that we learn best by experiencing things (especially things we might be skeptical about!).
    Using drum healing, and in particular, using drum journey (listening to drumming as a tool to unlock your brain, set intentions, and find answers) is such an experience.
    If you are a skeptic, I get you. I used to think drum healing was bullshit, and I explain my journey, which started with experiencing it for the first time in an unplanned manner,Ā in this blog.
    You might be surprised to hear that repetitive, heartbeat-style drumming has been shown in published research to slow down brain waves, as well as to synchronise different parts of the brain and even to stimulate your immune system! For me it’s simply a faster way to enter a meditative state, and make my thoughts more fluid and creative. I find it particularly helpful to find the answer to a question I may have. A bit like having a massage can loosen your muscles or any tightness you may have, listening to repetitive drum beats can loosen your brain, making it easier to access knowledge.
    I’ve recorded a 20 min drum journey called ā€œbirthing something newā€. I used a very powerful carved birth drum created by drum artist Juha Jarvinen to record this journey. I included a short guided introduction and conclusion.
    To best enjoy this process, set an intention (for example, an answer to a question you may have, or a solution to a problem), and then set aside 20 min (or even only 5 to 10 min-you do not have to do the entire journey to get the benefits) during which you will not be disturbed, and either sit or lie down comfortably. You may find that the sound works best using headphones. Relax and enjoy the journey. I’d love to hear what you think of it!

  • The Sound of Life: Making a Drum with Amniotic Membranes

    The Sound of Life: Making a Drum with Amniotic Membranes

    I’ve felt drawn to craft a unique instrument from the most primal source, the womb, for years now. It feels like a mystical calling – taking the amniotic caul that cushions a baby’s and giving it new sound and purpose. I’ve longed to feel the energy and listen to the drum beats rhythms these tissues might produce. To honour the mysteries of birth through percussion and song. Now, finally, I’m able to share the wonder of this dream realised. Of a drum birthed from the womb. The experience has resonated within me in ways deeper than expected. Let me tell you how it came to be.

    Last week, I was honoured to be invited into the sacred space of a friend after birth, just hours after she brought her baby into the world. As I held this tender space for the new family, listening to their birth story and first moments together, my heart swelled with the beauty of it all. I remembered at that moment how much I missed this aspect of supporting women through the birth journey.

    The exciting reason for my visit that day was to collect the placenta. For years I had dreamed of crafting a drum made from amniotic membranes, and my friend was generously letting me use her membranes for this magical purpose. I left eager to begin a powerful ritual, transforming this tissue that had nurtured new life into an instrument that would continue honouring the rhythm of life.

    The idea of crafting a drum from amniotic membranes had occurred to me 5 years ago. After reaching out to a few people whom I thought could help, I realised I had ventured into unchartered territory, as no one I asked seemed to know how what to do. The one doula I found who had made such a drum said that they broke after a few days.Ā 

    So I assumed it wasn’t possible and parked the idea for now. However, I set an intention to find a way, and gathered materials in the hope that this would become possible. I attended the birth of a friend in 2020 and we dried her membranes together in the hope of making a drum with it someday. I also saved another set of membranes in 2022, keeping it in my freezer until the time would be right.

    Ā Ā Fate put Melonie Syrett, aka The Drum Woman, in my path. I met Melonie a few years ago, and started attending her drum circles. I also did her sacred women drum circle facilitator training this year. In November 2022, Melonie shared the following on Facebook:

    ā€œSo, I’d like to share something hugely magical that happened recently. A friend of mine had a baby ‘en caul’ – born in the amniotic sac! What an auspicious occasion indeed.

    I arrived the next day and took the caul that had been stored in water in the fridge. Late that night, three of us sat together as I connected to this caul, like I would with a hide for a drum. I hadn’t ever felt anything like it. The energy in the bowl was fizzy, alive for sure, sparky.

    I tentatively held the sac. It was the hugest of honours. I opened it up and gently laid it over a small drum frame. I thought it would be slimy but it felt different… Wet, strong but super thin, barely there under my fingertips.I softly rolled the caul over the edges, trying to tighten and tension it over the frame, all the while quite fearful of it breaking.

    Once over as much as I could bear to pull it, I used some hide lacing to tie the caul in place and gently propped it up to begin its drying process.

    It was a huge honour to be asked to work with such precious materials. I’ve worked with nothing like it before and am so grateful I was asked to do so.And if you tap it, it has the best sound. It’s deep, like a heartbeat.ā€

    I spoke with both Melonie and Jessica (who gave birth to baby Evelyn, whose caul membrane was used to make the drum), and started working out how I could make a drum with the extra knowledge. Jessica shared that the membrane had been floating around in her birth pool, only noticed and picked up when they had emptied the pool. From this I concluded that rinsing the membranes may play a role in the lasting power of the drum.

    I also found the work of Colombian medicine woman Laura Torres in the French book ā€œAccoucher dans un Temazacalā€ (Giving birth in a sweat lodge). I saw on social media that she’d made such a drum. This gave me the idea to look for the Spanish version. Where the English or French searches had returned nothing beyond Melonie’s post,Ā  searching for Tambor de membrana amniotica returned several South American doulas, midwifes and medicine women who had made such a drum, usually using a coconut shell or a small hollowed gourd. Here are examples of such drums

    I even found an Instagram account called Tamborcito.de.placenta that seems to specialise in making such drums. I reached out to a few of these women, and one replied, explaining that she uses saline to rinse the membranes.Ā 

    After I collected my friend’s placenta, I set to work the very same day. It felt important not to set it aside, to work with it as soon as possible, still in the space of the magic I felt after visiting my friend.

    1. I laid the placenta out on a tray, and gently cut out the membranes (both amnion and chorion) with scissors. I immediately noticed how thin and smooth the amnio was, compared to the chorion which was more rough and ā€œmeatyā€.Ā 
    2. I then placed both membranes in a bowl of water. I had to change the water several times to remove all the blood, and despite this there were still little pockets of blood which I could not remove for fear of tearing the membranes. I suspect baby Evelyn’s drum is so clear and perfect because of the pool en caul birth, and the fact that her membranes never sat in coagulated blood like the ones I used.
    3. Whilst I rinsed the membranes, I held them, expressed my reverence, and asked them if they needed anything further to be honoured. They told me that the drum making was honouring enough.
    4. Whilst the membranes were soaking, I spent some time preparing small hoops (I ordered cheap toy drums online and removed the plastic head from them) and spent some time sanding them down to make sure no splinters would catch and rip the membranes.
    5. Finally I gently laid the membranes over the hoops, gingerly pulling on them gently to tension them over the hoops. I found it a challenging thing to do, as I wanted enough tension so the finished drum would resonate, and yet I also feared ripping the membranes if I pulled too much. The amnion was so thin and smooth, it did not need much to keep it in place, so I just used a piece of string, whereas the chorion, being heavier, needed something stronger to give it taught, so I used a leftover piece of horse hide lacing from my drum.
    6. I then propped them up on a tray and left them to dry for a few days. I was pleasantly surprised by how deep their sound was when I tapped them with my fingers (see videos below).

    In this video you can see the different steps I used to make the drums and also hear what the drums sound like.

    After a few days of drying, I tentatively and very gently tapped the drums with my fingers. I was amazed by how strong and deep the sound was, despite the small size of the drum. I own many drums, and the diameter of the hoop is usually indicative of the depth of the sound (the bigger the hoop the deeper the sound), and none of my drums of similar diameter sound near as deep as these drums. Both drums have a different sound and resonance. Here is the Amnion drum, and here is the Chorion drum.

    It has now been a week since I made the drums. The Amnion drum membrane cracked because I did not manipulate it carefully enough (it is VERY delicate, and I made the mistake to turn it face down on an outdoor wooden table to take a picture of the underside of it, and it cracked). My chorion drum is still intact and playable. Time will tell if it stands the trials of time. I know that Jessica’s drum is still intact, 8 months after her birth. She has shared with me that she keeps it wrapped in tissue a tin and manipulates it extremely gently when she wants to look at it.Ā 

    It has felt like a powerful , magical and huge honour to be trusted to craft such a drum with such a special membrane.

    Do you feel the call to craft such drums or offer them to mothers? How would you use such a special drum, and what would this drummaking process mean for you symbolically?

     

  • How to choose and buy a shamanic drum

    How to choose and buy a shamanic drum

    In this article I want to share the options available if you’d like to get your own frame/shamanic drum. There are many options to choose from and I hope I’ll make nagivating that decision easier for you!

    As I created the content for my Drumming for Birth course, I had one of those beautiful “aha” moments while explaining how to choose a drum. You know those times when you suddenly realise just how much expertise you’ve accumulated, but you did not know until you stopped to reflect on it ? As someone with ADHD, one of my superpowers is the ability to hyperfocus on subjects that fascinate me – and drums have certainly been one of those subjects!Ā 

    At the time of writing this, I own over 30 drums. I’m going to tell you about the categories, the pros and cons of each, and how much a drum cost to buy, including some real unexpected bargains. I’m also going to tell you about what to avoid.

    The type of drums I use are frame drums. One of the oldest known musical instruments, frame drums are found in various forms across many cultures worldwide and play significant roles in spiritual or ceremonial contexts. They are sometimes referred to as shamanic drums. A frame drum is a simple percussion instrument, typically circular in shape, consisting of a round wooden frame 2-4 inches deep, with a single drumhead stretched over one side. They can be played with the hand, or with a beater. The drumhead is traditionally made from animal skin, but synthetic materials are also used. The skin is usually secured to the frame with lacing. Frame drums produce a warm, resonant tone and are capable of a wide range of sounds, from deep booms to crisp, high-pitched tones.

    In my work I use frame drums with a handle, the kind that is played by hitting it with a soft beater.

    Frame drum categories:

    Frame drums come into 2 main categories: the ones that are made of animal skin (known as hide), and ones that are made of synthetic skin (plastic material, or sometimes canvas type fabric).Ā 

    Size matters: the bigger the drum, the deeper the sound. As a rule of thumb, I would suggest you start with something no smaller than 14 or 16 inches for a good sound. Tiny drums do not usually sound great. Really big drumsĀ  (20 inches and above) have a beautiful deep sound by they can be unwieldy to carry and hold.

    Synthetic drums

    I have 2 main synthetic drums: A 16 inches Remo Buffalo drum (A misnomer as the drum is made of a synthetic skin) and a 16 inches Remo Bahia Bass Buffalo drum (it has a deeper sound than the normal Remo Buffalo). I also have a couple of synthetic Kanjiras (a small Indian drum with a jingle), and a small 8 inches hand held synthetic Remo which I mostly use for travel.

    Synthetic drum Advantages

    • Good, reliable sound (this applies only to reputable brands, see below on what to avoid)
    • Sounds remains the same regardless of weather/water/temperature
    • If you play outdoors like I do, and live in a cold and wet country, you’ll be grateful to have a synthetic drum. You can play it in all weathers, even in the pouring rain, without the sound being affected. I’ve even taken mine inside sweat lodges and saunas.
    • These drums are typically cheaper than a skin drum, a Remo Buffalo Drum costs about Ā£115 for a 16 inches drum

    Synthetic drum disadvantages

    German company Thomann has sound samples of Remo drums (and many other drums) on their website.Ā 

    Drums made from animal hide
    I own 24 different skin drums, 7 of which I made myself in drum birthing workshops or on my own, and the others I bought or received as gifts.

    Skin drums advantages

    • Unique, beautiful, individual drums
    • Handmade by cottage industry businesses or with your own hands
    • Unique spirit and energy (and different hides from different animals, each with their own unique energy)
    • You can buy them ready made, have them custom made, or make them yourself to your own preference and style (including adding symbols, crystals, painting them etc)

    Skin drums disadvantages

    • The quality can vary a lot & there are fakes (more on that below)
    • They are sensitive to weather, moisture & temperature. In winter you need a fire to warm them up if outdoors or in cold weather
    • They can get damaged by heat or moisture (you cannot play them in the rain and you have to the careful not to leave them somewhere hot, for example in the car)
    • Because they are handmade, they tend to be pricey (from Ā£150 to Ā£300 or more)

     

    I have skin drums from the following makers, and I trust and recommend their work:

    There are many other makers of drums both in the UK and around the world. Ask for recommendations and see whose work you resonate with.

     

     

    One affordable skin drum option I often recommend is the Irish Bodhran. Whilst it is not officially designed as a shamanic drum it works perfectly for that purpose (read my article where I share how I overcame the misguided idea that there was only one right way to play this drum). A bodhran usually comes with a wooden stick called a tipper, and you’ll need a soft beater instead but these are very easy to make (a foraged stick and a stuffed sock or piece of felt attached to the stick with a string or elastic, or watch this video). Or you could buy a beater to go with your drum. Drum beaters come in factory or handmade versions. There are plenty of handmade ones on Etsy.

    My first drum was a Bodhran, bought by my parents in Ireland from the oldest bodhran maker in Ireland, Malachy Kearns, and gifted to me. Malachy Kearns bodhrans start at 130 euros, however I have found such bodhrans available second hand on Ebay or Facebook marketplace for as little as £30 to 40. Another well known bodhran brand is Waltons. Just make sure to buy one that is a decent size, at least 12 to 14 inches.

    When it comes to acquiring a skin drum, you can either buy one ready made, have something make a custom drum for you, or (the ultimate experience in my opinion), attend a workshop with a skilled drum making teacher, and make your own. When someone makes a drum for you, or you make your own drum, this drum carries the medicine that you need.

    Size matters

    With any drum, the bigger the drum, the deeper the sounds ( though I have sometimes seen smallish drums with surprisingly deep sound). For a starter drum I recommend something between 12 and 16 inches diameter. Really big drums (20 to 22 inches diameter) have beautiful, deep, resonant sound, but they can be tricky to hold and carry.

    A few other people I have either seen drums made by (some run drum birthing workshops and also sell kits to make your own drum)

    General instruments shops that sell drums and other musical instruments in the UK:

    A list of makers recommended by knowledgeable friends (but I haven’t seen these drums myself)

    What to avoid when buying a drum

    Quality matters. If at all possible try to listen to the sound of the drum before you buy. There are many cheap drums on Amazon for example, which are poor quality. They would be ok for a small child to play with. I was surprised when visiting Djoliba, a big percussion shop in Toulouse, France, to see a tiny drum cost more than some much bigger ones. The shop keeper explained that the tiny one I was looking at was handmade by a very well known drum company called Cooperman in the US, whereas the shelf of bigger drums I was looking at where factory made in India.

    Sadly there are also fake drums. A lot of what’s sold on Facebook ads, Ebay or Amazon are often fakes/copies of real drum, made in China. People simply copy the artist’s pictures, and print and glue them on a plastic drum the size of my hand. Because they use the real artist pictures in the listing, what you think you’re getting and the reality are completely different, The drums made by Velenslav Voron for example, are so distinctive in style that IĀ  instantly recognised one of his designs on a Facebook ad for Ā£30 on Facebook. I knew something wasn’t right, so I contacted him and he told me about the stealing of pictures, and the cheap copies, and about not being able to do anything about it because if he reports a shop, another shop pops up the next day. A friend bought such a drum and she sent me pictures of a crappy plastic drum not even goodĀ  enough for a child, with the picture and surrounding tape peeling off. Currently you can buy drums that look like the Shaman Drums from Ukraine for under Ā£10 on Aliexpress.Ā  Remember: if it’s too good to be true, it probably is.Ā  Get recommendations, and if possible, get to see and try before you buy.

    I hope this is helpful, and if you end up buying a drum with the help of this post I’d love it if you posted a picture of your drum in the comments

    Happy drumming!

    If this speaks to you and you’d like to find out more about the work I offer with the drum, from one to one work, to healing, drum circles, workshops, and courses, you can find out more on this page.

  • Drumming for Birth: Reclaiming Our Ancestral Wisdom

    Drumming for Birth: Reclaiming Our Ancestral Wisdom

    I have been deeply immersed in research on the history of drumming, and how it was used for the pregnancy, birth and postpartum journey. I’ve not been able to find much, apart from Layne Redmond’s book, When The Women Were Drummers, and a couple of blog posts and scholarly articles. So little has been written on the topic that the blog post I wrote two weeks ago about the science of drumming and how it helps support the birth process, is now coming up first when I search for the topic online!

    We have no recollection of our shamanic and wise women roots, because Western women’s wisdom and authority have been systematically suppressed, devalued and marginalised AND shamanism has also been actively destroyed.

    I’m going to cover the 2 separate topics: the erasure of women’s wisdom, and the erasure of shamanism, then finish by joining them.

    The erasure of women’s wisdom

    This happened in 3 separate waves.

    First, around 5000 years BC, the beginning of the patriarchy saw the removal of the spiritual roles and power of women. Layne Redmond in her book, When the Women Were Drummers, explains that:

    ā€œThe rituals of the earliest known religions evolved around the beat of frame drums. These regions were founded on the worship of female deities…Women became the first technicians of the sacred, performing religious functions we would today associate with the clergy….Sacred drumming was one of their primary skills.ā€

    ā€œPriestesses of the Goddess were skilled technicians in its (the frame drum) uses. They knew which rhythms quickened the life in freshly planted seeds; which facilitated childbirth; and which induced the ecstatic trance of spiritual transcendence. Guided by drumbeats, these sacred drummers could alter their consciousness at will, travelling through the three worlds of the Goddess: the heavens, the earth and the underworldā€

    With the transition from nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyles to settled farming communities, property ownership and inheritance became important, leading to the consolidation of power within male lineages, instead of the previous matrilineal system. This shift marked a turning point in societal organisation, as men gained control over land, resources, and social structures, while women’s roles were increasingly confined to domestic and reproductive spheres.

    Secondly, during the witch hunts that took place in Europe (and America) from around 1400 to 1800, countless women were accused of practicing witchcraft and subsequently persecuted, leading to their torture and execution. Many of these women were healers, midwives, or possessed knowledge about herbal remedies and folk medicine. I assume that they may have been drummers amongst them too. The persecution of witches was, in part, an attempt to undermine women’s traditional roles as spiritual leaders, as well as to exert control over their bodies and reproductive capacities. The witch hunts resulted in the murder of between tens of thousands and hundreds of thousand women in Europe alone, creating a void in that knowledge.

    Thirdly, from around the 18th and 19th century, the rise of the scientific and medical fields further contributed to the side-lining of women’s wisdom. As these disciplines became professionalised, women were excluded from formal education and professional opportunities. This exclusion limited their ability to participate in scientific and medical advancements and denied society the benefit of their unique perspectives and expertise.

    The systematic exclusion of women from the medical field and science, and in particular childbirth, was done deliberately, with the portraying of wise women such as midwives and healers as unsafe, and dirty, and ignorant (so that male doctors could keep the lucrative business of birth for themselves alone-see the books Birth, A History By Tina Cassidy, and The Birth house by Ami MacKay).

    The erasure of shamanism in Europe

    The history of shamanic drumming in Europe is rich and varied, spanning back thousands of years. Various European cultures, such as the Celtic, Viking, Germanic, and SƔmi people, practised shamanism, which involved connecting with the spiritual realms through drumming, chanting, and other rituals. Shamans, known by different names in different cultures (e.g., druids, seidhr practitioners), used drums as a tool for trance induction and journeying to commune with spirits, seek guidance, and perform healing ceremonies to accompany life and death.

    With the spread of Christianity across Europe, shamanic traditions and practices were suppressed and demonised as pagan or heretical. Shamanic drumming, along with other shamanic rituals, faced persecution and was actively discouraged by religious authorities. Many indigenous cultures had their spiritual practices suppressed, and knowledge of shamanic drumming was lost or went underground.

    In her book, Les Esprits de la Steppe, Shaman and researcher Corinne Sombrun (the founder of the Trance Science Research institute), explains that Russia made practising shamanism illegal in Mongolia as little back in time as the late 1960s. Shaman’s drums were destroyed and the shamans sent to prison. Some, however, carried on practising in secret.

    In Europe too, remnants of shamanic traditions persisted in some regions, particularly in remote areas. In the northern parts of Europe, such as Lapland and Siberia, the SƔmi people continued their shamanic practices, including drumming..

    In the late 20th century, there was a resurgence of interest in shamanic practices and spirituality in Europe. Influenced by a growing recognition of the value of indigenous knowledge, shamanic drumming began to experience a revival. Today, shamanic drumming circles and workshops can be found in various European countries, providing individuals with a means to explore altered states of consciousness, connect with their inner selves, and tap into spiritual dimensions. This revival often draws inspiration from both indigenous European traditions and broader shamanic practices worldwide.

    ā€œWomen often feel that, along with a portion of their history, they’re missing a part of their psyche. They have lost access to important regions of their minds. Until they can reclaim those parts of themselves, they are not wholeā€ Layne Redmond

    Joining back the two threads

    There is a part of these two threads that is still going on today in the Western world, in the attempt at destroying anything seen as ā€œnot scientificā€ or ā€œnot evidence basedā€. For instance, when something hasn’t been published about, it is assumed not to be effective (which is ridiculous because lack of evidence is not the same as proof of a lack of effectiveness). Our culture reveres science like a religion, and in some aspects our scientific or medical world behaves like a mediaeval church. Rupert Sheldrake explains this in his banned TED talk.

    If this seems far-fetched to you, did you know that today in the UK, there are charitable organisations (which I won’t name because I don’t want to give them traffic), whose sole purpose is to destroy all forms of healing and traditional medicine that they consider to be pseudoscience. They target osteopathy, homeopathy, aromatherapy, reiki, the list goes on and on. Such an organisation successfully prevented osteopaths from saying that they can treat any condition for which the published evidence isn’t solid enough (for example, they are no longer allowed to say that they can treat colic). One such organisation managed to get a job offer post for a Reiki healer inside an NHS clinic removed.

    Similarly, modern maternity care behaves in accordance with patriarchy, where the ā€œexpertsā€ hold the power, and the pregnant woman is seen as ignorant (and potentially dangerous), and where when a conflict arises between rigid maternity guidelines (not themselves based on any solid evidence ironically) and women’s wishes, this usually results in coercive behaviour on the part of health professionals. As a doula I have witnessed this often, in particular with the rise of induction of labour, and women being coerced to consent to induction (without being counselled on any of the risks of the intervention) by using the threat of their baby dying.Ā 

    As Dr Rachel Reed explains in her book, Reclaiming Childbirth As A Rite of Passage,Ā  where ancestral knowledge aimed at protecting pregnant women against the environment, the current system aims to protect the baby against its mother.Ā 

    The reason I feel so strongly that drumming needs to be re-introduced to women and birth is because it can help us tune back into our intuitive wisdom. Bringing back drumming as a support tool during pregnancy and birth is not only an important part of bringing back our lost knowledge, but a powerful way for women to be able to be able reclaim their power and stand up to the ā€œexpertsā€.

    ā€œSo often women feel disconnected from their babies and their own bodies and this process helps work toward healing or dealing with whatever it is that blocks that connection.Ā  Shamanic journeying during pregnancy offers great preparation for labour and birth as both are best approached from a similar altered state of consciousness.”Ā Jane Hardwicke Collings

    Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā 

     

  • Closure book review: How the ending of the Albany Midwifery Practice was about control, not safety

    Closure book review: How the ending of the Albany Midwifery Practice was about control, not safety

    I just finished the book ā€œClosure: How the flagship Albany Midwifery Practice, at the heart of its South London community, was demonised and dismantledā€ by Becky Reed and Nadine Edwards.

    I found Closure a gripping and soul-stirring book. It peels back the layers surrounding the downfall of the Albany Midwifery Practice, a ground-breaking continuity of care model, which ran from 1997 to 2009 in Peckham, South London.Ā 

    Defying the official narrative that safety concerns were the reasons for closing the practice, Closure exposes and challenges motives rooted in control and suppression. Meticulous research, first-hand accounts, and interviews with key figures paint a vivid picture, demonstrating that the model provided safe and effective care with positive outcomes well above those achieved by local hospitals. They also leave little doubt that the closure was not a mere unfortunate occurrence but a deliberate ploy orchestrated by influential forces.

    Using powerful storytelling, Closure unveils the profound connections and trust that existed between the Albany midwives and the community they served. It portrays the impact of the practice’s nurturing approach on expectant mothers, birth and postpartum experiences, families, and the wider community. The Albany Practice did not just provide exemplary maternity care, it provided a space to build and nurture communities that lasted beyond the childbearing years.

    Closure delves into themes of community, power dynamics, and the complex web of interests that shapes the fate of medical services. It empowers readers to question the narratives imposed by those in authority and to champion the preservation of institutions that nurture the health and well-being of communities. Closure is a catalyst for change, inspiring us to fight for the rights of families to birth where and with whom they choose, and for a maternity care system where connection and compassion prevails.

    Closure stands as a testament to the indomitable spirit of the Albany Midwifery Practice. The time and effort the midwives and their supporters spent trying to prevent the closure of the practise and to raise awareness about the amazing results the practice achieved, is truly inspiring. Sadly their efforts were not successful in preventing the practice’s closure. I couldn’t help but wonder, if the situation had happened ten years later, whether the impact of a powerful social media campaign might have led to a different outcome.

    Reading Closure left me reeling with a mix of intense emotions. I felt a deep sense of outrage as the book exposed the web of deception and incompetence surrounding the closure of the practice. My blood boiled at the realisation that the supposed safety concerns were nothing more than a smokescreen masking a hidden agenda. I also felt familiar rage towards the belittling attitude of medical management professionals towards the midwives and the families who tried to challenge the closure.Ā 

    I kept asking myself: how did a medical institution lose sight of its fundamental purpose—to serve patients and the community? Sadly, this scenario has become all too familiar. For let’s be clear: it wasn’t safety concerns that caused the demise of the Albany, but the fact that it challenged the status quo so deeply. Whenever a ground-breaking and successful model emerges, challenging the very foundation of an existing institution, the response is often one of silencing and destroying the individual or practice behind it, rather than engaging in introspection and self-improvement.

    I also felt a deep sense of empathy and sadness as I read the poignant stories of mothers, families, the dedicated Albany midwives, and the witch hunt against midwife Becky Reed. The testimonies laid bare the devastating impact of losing this wonderful midwifery practice—a sanctuary of care, support and empowerment. My heart ached for the mothers robbed of a trusted support system during their pregnancy journey, and for the midwives whose passion and expertise were trampled and discarded.Ā 

    The rollercoaster of emotions continued, weaving indignation and compassion. Alongside the anger, I felt deep admiration for the unwavering resilience displayed by those affected. They highlighted the strength that can arise when a community unites to fight against injustice.

    Reading Closure made me revisit and confront the realities of power imbalances within maternity care and the impact they can have on individuals and communities, echoing my own experience supporting families as a doula. It stirred a renewed commitment to raising my voice to advocate for change in support of models of care that prioritise connection, informed decision making and evidence based transparency. The book also highlighted how deeply embedded the belief that birth is inherently dangerous is within our culture, and how most of the professionals within healthcare have no understanding of the concept of informed choice.

    Upon finishing the book, it became clearer than ever to me that the current maternity care system is beyond redemption, incapable of self-transformation from its dehumanising model of care.Ā 

    But I also felt hope, as if a turning point had been reached. I have been seeing the signs of transformation everywhere, especially since the pandemic has led to soaring rates of medical interventions such as induction of labour, that simply cannot be justified by logic or evidence. Families and birth professionals are reclaiming their rights to birth as they wish, stepping outside of a system that inflicts harm.Ā  Change is brewing, fuelled by a collective refusal to accept the disempowering and controlling attitude of the current maternity system, and to reclaim the autonomy and sacred nature of the birthing experience.

    The pendulum, when pushed too far in one direction, inevitably swings back the other way.Ā 

    PS:Ā  Closure has also inspired me to write a future blog called The Myth of Birth Safety in Hospital.

  • Riding the phoenix: Navigating Perimenopause, ADHD, and Emotional Rollercoasters.

    Riding the phoenix: Navigating Perimenopause, ADHD, and Emotional Rollercoasters.

    If you follow me you’ll know that I’ve navigated more than my fair share of challenges over the last couple of years.

    I’ve supported one of my children through severe mental health issues, I’ve navigated the ups and downs of perimenopause, and I discovered that I have ADHD (I got formally diagnosed a couple of weeks ago and I plan to write another post about this). It’s not been an easy time to say the least. When I look back I can see that I’ve experienced chronic stress for 2 years.

    And yet, I also want to know that these challenges are somewhat linked and have all the hallmarks of a rite of passage. And that, despite the challenges, I already know that when I fully come out the other side, I will be happier than I was before. In my case, the growth has been commensurate with the level of pain.

    A couple of weeks ago I attended a talk about ADHD and women. One graph in particular drew my attention. It showed the peaks and troughs of hormones during perimenopause. It lookedĀ  like this:

    The messy ups and downs of hormones in the middle made me think: no wonder my world is in chaos. The chaos isn’t just outside of me, it’s inside as well! It reminded me of my experience of puberty, and also of the first few weeks of postpartum (where I also had big emotional ups and downs, and terrible night sweats).Ā  The messy hormone curve has all the hallmarks of a rite of passage,Ā  where there is no solid ground beneath your feet, where you no longer know who you are, where you have to face the scariest monsters, and where who you were, literally, has to die, to give birth to the new you.Ā 

    Added to that, over the last year, my ADHD symptoms increased to a level that has made daily life very difficult. I felt constantly overwhelmed, because within 5 min of getting up I would see ALL THE THINGS that needed doing, and be unable to prioritise them. For example I’d start making coffee, then see that the dishwasher needed emptying, and on the way to that, that the dog’s water bowl needed refilling, that the recycling bin needs emptying, and I would start each task without finishing it, moving to the next and so on. This video illustrates the issue so well! I was aware that I was doing this, but unable to stop myself. I also got woken up several times a night, with night sweats and a racing heart. This would trigger anxiety, as I worried about all the things I wasn’t doing, this would often keep me awake for an hour or more.Ā  I would then wake at 5am with the anxiety mindset, and would not be able to go back to sleep So on top of the low mood, anxiety and overwhelm, I also felt exhausted. How I’ve managed to keep the wheels on my small one woman self-employed business is unbelievable.

    I truly believe that everything is linked. There is evidence that the hormonal changes of perimenopause exacerbates the symptoms of ADHD. It certainly was the case for me, as my symptoms didn’t become unmanageable until last year. However, since I started reading about neurodivergence and discovered I have ADHD,Ā  when I look back, these symptoms had been rising steadily since I started my perimenopause journey in 2012.

    Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but I feel that one of the big issues is that we no longer have rites of passages accompanying huge life changes. Just like puberty or becoming a mother, perimenopause is completely unsupported from a community and spiritual point of view, and seen only through a pathological lens.

    Over the last year, on many occasions, I have felt such empathy for what I describe happens to new mothers, in my book, Why Postnatal Recovery Matters. The need for community support, for rest, for good food (provided by others), and for nourishing bodywork have felt so relevant. I have felt such longing for this myself, and often fantasised about what my life would be if I lived in a close knit community of women. I believe the same needs apply during the perimenopause, as well as during any other big life transition times. We simply cannot do it alone.

    When we no longer have the support of our community to help us navigate big life transitions, we suffer. When our culture is blind to the need for support during these times, unable to see it for the transformation that it is AND when our culture also depicts the transition in negative terms only, then we are completely lost at sea.

    To ride those big transitions, we need to be supported by groups of people who have experienced them, and who can support us through it from a place of gentle understanding and holding. Sadly, the generations before us have also lost this knowledge too, and there is therefore very little holding available. Nobody even remembers that it is a thing!

    Even deep into the depth of the challenges, I felt that the discomfort, the stripping, were all clearing me for something new.Ā  times for the last year or so, as I’ve had to undergo more growth, at a faster rate than I’ve ever had in my life. I already feel how much spaciousness, openness and tolerance this growth has given me. It’s made me aware of unhelpful patterns in my brain, and as I am aware of them, I am no longer run by them. Starting microdosing was instrumental in this, and so did working with a neurodivergent coach.

    This doesn’t mean that there hasn’t been deep pain and a desire to escape it all. As I write this I am aware that a lot of the pain, as it was in those first few weeks of motherhood, stems from wanting my life to be like it was before. The pain is caused by resistance, and by a desire to run away from the pain. When I sink into it, when I stop fighting it, it’s never as bad as I feared.

    But, similarly to the fact that I, and many of the new mothers I have supported as a doula, struggle to adjust to the slower pace of new motherhood and often run themselves ragged by trying to do all the things they did before had a baby (I’ve heard some many new mothers say ā€œI’m not doing anythingā€), so too does my pain stems from refusing my body’s demand for slowness and rest (which I know is easier said than done as a busy mother of special needs children, but still: the deepest pressure was the one I created myself)

    In the book Second Spring, Kate Codrington talks about the possibility of a menopause gap year. Since the beginning of my perimenopause 10 years ago, I have longed on many occasions to run away from the demands of family life, and entertained dreams of living in a commune of midlife women, tending the land and doing simple crafts. I have longed for peace, and for a slower pace of life, connected to the land and to a community of like minded people.

    I think that’s where the lack of support from society has been the hardest. How on earth are we supposed to pause, to find space for peace and rest, in the midst of the demands of family life in the Western world? I also cannot help but wonder if motherhood later in life (my children were born when I was 35 and 39 and I’m 53 as I write this), means that I have teenagers, when ideally by now they would have already flown the nest and I wouldn’t need to provide so much care?

    If we lived in tribal society, or at least in medium sized communities of people who knew each other, then I imagine that 1) there would be elders who would understand, help understand, and support the process 2) the chores and demands of family life would be shared, this would lighten the load AND meet the needs for human connection, making this time feel easier on so many levels.

    Instead of the support, not only have I had to undergo the transition with neither map nor support, but the added mental health challenges of my child have made an already difficult time unbearable. It’s perhaps no wonder that, now that I am finally out of a deep crisis and survival, my body has collapsed.

    The thing is, you cannot ā€œcureā€ the rite of passage. You just have to go through it, whether you like it or not. My tunnel has been long and dark and every time I thought I was finally due a break, something worse happened instead.Ā 

    In March we got the news that the funding for my youngest child to attend the small nurturing specialist school I spent 2 years fighting for, was successful. Instead of feeling better, my system crashed. I spent a night in A&E in the worst pain I had ever experienced, and a CT scan showed a kidney stone. I then concussed myself because I fainted due to the pain and hit my head,Ā  and had to spend a week in bed instead of going on the beautiful, much overdue holiday I had booked for my family to celebrate. Then for most of April, I felt the worst mood swings, tearfulness and exhaustion I had ever felt. I would go to bed at 8h30 and still waking up tired. I felt joyless. I became so tired and fed up with feeling like this. I desperately needed space to breathe, and feel like my normal self again. I longed for peace and calm.

    I recently got diagnosed with ADHD, but even with the right to choose route, I am now on a 6 month waiting list before I can start titration (and I’m not sure ADHD drugs are something I want to take for the rest of my life either, having tried some already, read about this here). My GP ordered a bunch of blood tests, and suggested I try HRT. My first response to this was a complete no, because I feel that using drugs that put a lid on symptoms doesn’t resolve the underlying issue. My instinct also told me that they may prevent the spiritual development that goes with the drop in hormones.

    However, over the last 10 years I’ve tried many different holistic approaches (and one less holistic): I’ve worked with 2 herbalists, I’ve tried CDB oil and many other supplements, meditation, acupuncture, homeopathy, family constellations, counselling, coaching, EFT, MAP, microdosing, antidepressants, emotion doodling, and more forms of bodywork and healing that I care to count (somatic massage, thai massage, reflexology, osteopathy, lomi-lomi, bowen, Rolfing, TRE, sound healing, Reiki, and more). They all provided some healing and some respite, but I was now in a place where none of these holistic approaches seemed to be enough anymore.

    I also developed regular weekly nurturing practices (all of which I can now see are dopamine raising activities), such as wild swimming, drumming in nature, and 5thythms dancing. When I started doing these, and a for a few years, they had a deep transformative effect on my wellbeing, and brought me calm and joy. Today, they still sustain me, and are an important part of my wellbeing, but somehow aren’t enough to keep me in a place of trust and peace.

    I had a chat with my neurodivergent coach, and she said that I wasn’t just coping with the menopause but with a lot of other challenges at the same time. She said that I could try HRT and see if it worked for me, and this was useful as I think I felt that it was all or nothing. In 2022 I tried antidepressants and hated it, and I thought this might be worth a try, at least to know if it helped or not.

    In my typical fashion (thank you ADHD hyperfocus!) I researched HRT deeply prior to the appointment with my GP to discuss it. I joined groups, I read books and articles, I spoke to a lot of people. One of my fears was that it would stop me from undergoing the spiritual development that comes with the menopause. I reached out to menopause mentor Kate Codgrinton, as I’m reading her book, Second Spring. When I mentioned my concerns, she said that some women found that the HRT sometimes helped their spiritual growth, giving them more time and space to put helpful practices in place in their lives. In Second Spring there is a section about HRT, and it fits with what I believe. Menopause, Kate says, is a caterpillar to butterfly process. The hormones support can help you stay a strong caterpillar but not support you to become a butterfly. Reading this, I realised that I needed to be a strong caterpillar for my family at the moment.

    My fears alleviated, I decided to give HRT a try.Ā  I started taking it last week after researching the different forms (I choose to have the estrogen gel and micronised progesterone. I particularly like Dr Newson’s prescription guide to HRT). I could feel a difference within 3 days of starting the estrogen gel, with improved mood, sleep, and energy.

    Just as I’d hoped, a week on, not only do I feel calmer and happier and have more energy, I also have enough spaciousness inside of me to start looking at my life and putting things into place to feel better. I spoke to my coach about things I could do to improve my mental health and she suggested I make a jar with activities I can do when I feel low. She said when you feel stressed you cannot think. I made the jar there and then (when before the idea of having another task filled me with dread), and I was surprised by the list of ideas I wrote (once I got going I realised that I had a lot more ideas than I thought. You can find my list below.

    The re-regulating / grounding jar list

    • Go for a walk (with the dog)
    • Cuddle/play with the dog
    • 5 min dancing (Use Tankwa Town track which is like a a short 5rhythms wave Daniel’s joik track, or the Double Touch trackĀ  depending on mood and need)
    • Craft something (even if only for 5 min)
    • Doodle how I’m feeling (draw a person with thought bubbles)
    • Go to the river (swim or just contemplate)
    • Sensate break (10 min)
    • Self Reiki (10 min)
    • Drum (10 min)
    • Rebozo self massage (5 min)
    • Meditate (5 min)
    • Breathe slowly (5 min)
    • Smudge myself and/or my space
    • Sway hips (5 min)
    • Breathe against a wrapped rebozo
    • Notice things I can see, smell, hear
    • 5 min gratitude (think, write, or speak)
    • Take some rescue remedy sweets (easier to consume mindfully)
    • Diffuse or sniff uplifting or calming essential oil blend
    • Walk bare feet on the earth
    • Touch trees/plants

    If you want to create one for yourself, feel free to be inspired by my ideas, but make sure you add stuff that works for your unique self too. And remember that, if you pick a paper in the jar and you don’t like it, you can put it back and choose something else!

    Time will tell if it works, but writing the list uplifted me, as I realised I have more options/knowledge than I thought, and I also noticed that these activities are more likely to work for me than a list written by a stranger.Ā  You’ll notice that a lot of the activities are short. This is because when I feel low, I have resistance to doing anything, and I’m more likely to want to do something that takes 5 min than 20. Incorporating micro habits like this in my life feels do-able. And more importantly, it also feels like something that can bring restoration to my life in real ways, rather than waiting for something that takes a couple of hours like a massage.Ā 

    I hope you find this useful and helpful if you are experiencing similar challenges. I would love to hear about your experience.

     

  • The importance of switching off when you work for yourself

    The importance of switching off when you work for yourself

    I’ve been working as a solopreneur for 10 years.

    The first year I went away on holiday, as a newly self-employed birth worker, I noticed that I was still responding to work emails, something I never did when I was an employee. I didn’t resent it but I was very conscious of the difference. As an employee, I used to truly switch off when I was away, and I rarely worked outside of my contracted hours.

    Sure, in my pre-parent years whilst working a postdoc and then for a biotech start up I worked very long hours, including weekends and evenings, but chose to do so myself and didn’t resent it. After becoming a parent, I did the odd bit of work in the evenings and at the week end, but mostly I went home and did not work, and certainly never worked whilst on holidays.

    Since I left science and started working for myself, my business has kept growing. There is always stuff to do, and at the beginning I was rarely switching off in the evenings or during the week-end.Ā  I also interact with a lot more people than I did at the beginning, so there are messages coming from many different sources and apps, messages on my business page, comments and questions, and so on, which need replying to.

    In the digital age with live in, where the boundaries between work and home are somewhat blurred, I might have ended up there anyway if I’d remained a scientist. I read Cal Newport’s book, A world without email, and his description of the corporate world of today certainly seems fitting with a constant barrage of messages.

    As I’ve grown older and a more experienced self employed person, I have become more conscious than ever of the need to establish firmer boundaries in my life between work and play, to be more present to myself and my family, and to resist the desire to answer yet one more email or message. The downside of being self employed (the upsides far than make up for it however!) Ā is that I used to have an underlying feeling of guilt when I was not working.Ā  I found myself thinking that I ought to work 9 to 5 and be productive all the time, something that I now see as a hangover of our education and workplace system.

    About 4 years ago I embarked on a journey to get out of this productive overwhelm, and I blogged about it here. I ended up writing a whole collection of posts on the topic, which you can find listed in this post. It has been so utterly transformative that I am think I may end up creating a course to help others do the same.

    The other important aspect to consider is, when you have chosen a path that involves giving and caring for others, you need to spend time away from that, refilling your own tank and giving to myself, before I am ready to give again to others (I wrote a post about that too).

    During my first summer break as a self employed doula/birth educator, I was quite shocked to notice how tired I was, because for the first for the first 3 or 4 nights of my holidays I slept for nearly 12h each night (a normal night for me is usually between 6 and 7h of sleep).

    In recent years, I’ve learnt to plan for time off work by putting in in my diary so I know what my availability is and I also know not to over commit myself. I’ve also become much better at feeling my body’s energy and wellbeing, that when I need to slow down I feel the need before I reach crashing point. February to April this year were an intense time for me, supporting my last doula clients, and having a new puppy to care for, and launching 3 online courses (the postnatal rebozo closing ritual course, updated rebozo for pregnancy and birth course, and my new How to run a mother blessing course). I really feel the need to slow down and recharge deep in my bones.

    Ahead of my holidays, I plan my work so that I can truly switch off. I am going to have long leisurely days with a lot of time outdoors, some long, social family diners, I’m going to read more books and swim in as many bodies of water as I can. Bliss.

    And when I’m back at my desk, I am going to continue refining my work-life balance, so that I am in a state that works for me, keeps me purposeful and happy, to keep putting the things that keep me fuelled like drumming, wild swimming and dancing as the most important things in my to-do list,Ā  and spend as much time as possible being joyfully present.

     

     

  • You already know what is right for you (how to access your own wisdom)

    You already know what is right for you (how to access your own wisdom)

    What if I told you that you always know what is right for you?

    What if I told you that you do not need to outsource your wisdom, defer to other people, seek answers from outside sources, and that the answers, the real, true, optimal ones for you as a unique being, are already inside of you?

    In my previous blog, I explained that you are the expert is what is right for you and I want to expand on the topic and go further, as well as present ways you can access your inner wisdom.

    I believe that we are all born with inner wisdom and knowing and that we can originally access it easily. Babies and small children know what feels good and what doesn’t. They trust their inner compass. They express their bliss and displeasure loudly. It is very plain for all to see: when they are happy, their whole body is happy. When they are sad you can see it too.

    But then, because we live in a society that expects us to obey and do as we are told, and because this is present at every level, whether it is parenting, education, or the corporate world, we slowly learn to ignore our inner knowing and trusts that authority figures know best what’s right for us. To be seen as lovable, acceptable, we slowly learn to fit within the constraints of what is seen as acceptable in our society. We learn to ignore what feels right, in favour of what is seen as right.

    It can be hard to unlayer the learning of distrust of one’s instinct and to start accessing the inner voice inside. This is especially true when we enter an experience that is outside of our field of knowledge. And this is particularly true of the experience of pregnancy, birth and parenting. I see it a lot in my work as a doula. I see highly educated, intelligent individuals, who find it really hard to trust their instincts in the face of pressure from coercive maternity care policies.

    The same is true when we become parents, and it can be tempting to choose to believe the opinion of so-called ā€œexpertsā€ in parenting, rather than following one’s inner guidance. I wrote about this in my blog Why baby books and ā€œexpertsā€ can really harm you after you have a baby . It is true for most new experiences in life, most choices, and most life transitions.

    I see this being highlighted more than ever since the 2020 pandemic. There are so many conflicting pieces of information. Experts disagreeing with each other. Public health policies that treat people as a single entity and fail to take into account unique individual circumstances. Forever changing goalposts. Not knowing who and what to believe.

    I am not saying that it isn’t worth consulting people who know more than you do about an area. But as I explained in my previous blog, they cannot make the decision for you, because they aren’t the ones who are going to live with the consequences of your decisions.

    In navigating the perinatal period, and life changes, and for most of us in the current climate, learning to listen to our inner knowing can be a game changer, and bring out a sense of confidence and peace.

    But how do you start to unlayer the belief that the answers always lie outside of yourself? How do you start listening to your inner voice if you have always let the opinion of others guide you?

    There are many different ways to start accessing your inner wisdom. None of them is necessarily ā€œrightā€ or more powerful than the other. They are simply tools. The most important aspect is that you use one that works for you.

    I have been on a massive journey myself to debunk what I thought I had to do. For example I use to believe I was shit at meditation because I thought you had to sit on a cushion in the lotus position, stare at a candle, and think of nothing. This cool little animated video went a long way in helping to undo this.Ā  It is surprising simple. All you need to do is have the intention to do so, and then start applying ways of accessing your own wisdom that work for you.

    Here are some ideas to try to get you started. Remember, that, as with any new skills, the more you practice the better you become. After all, if you were going to run a marathon you wouldn’t expect to do it without training. Start small. Start with the method you feel most excited about.

    Set an intention

    • The simplest way to access your inner wisdom is simply to set an intention to receive the guidance and see what happens.

    Meditation

    • If trying meditation appeals to you, there are many apps, such as headspace (and plenty of others, some of which are free) around to guide you through the process in tiny, incremental steps. It doesn’t have to be a commitment to have 20 min a day, it could be as little as 5 min and still make a difference.
    • Checkout the one moment meditation video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6eFFCi12v8

    Mouvement

    • Meditation does not even have to be a still process. One can meditate whilst walking, dancing, or other movement activities too. I am a fan of 5rhythms dancing (https://www.5rhythms.com/) and other conscious movement practices,These practises work much better for me than sitting still. I include my wild river swimming in my meditative practices.
    • When you feel stuck, try moving gently, or going for a walk. Bonus if you can get in nature, as it is extra grounding.

    Grounding

    • Walking barefoot on the grass/ground is a super fast way to discharge stress and ground yourself. From a place of grounding it’s easier to access one’s inner voice.
    • Being in nature is generally grounding. I swim in the local river all year round and it is one of my favourite ways to de-stress and meditate.

    Breathing

    1. As with meditation, simply paying attention to your breath can help your mind quieten enough to hear the inner voice inside. Again there are many techniques available, but you already know how to breathe (after all you’ve been doing it all your life), and simply paying attention to your outbreath, and slowing it down slightly is all you need. Some meditation apps include breathing relaxation.

    Heart centering

    • This is a quick and simple way to gain a more heart centered state. Breathe gently for a couple of minutes, then imagine that you are breathing in and out through the centre of your chest.
    • You can also try the HeartMath institute heart coherence techniqueĀ .

    Journaling

    • Some people find their inner voice communicate best with them via writing. Again it doesn’t have to be complicated. All you need is a notebook and a pen, and a commitment to start with free writing 5 min a day. One thing that can help is simply to state in your mind before you write ā€œwhat does my inner voice/soul (or whatever other word resonates most with you) want to tell me todayā€.

    Learning to recognise your body’s response

    • Did you know that you can use your body as a pendulum to get an answer to a question? Start by asking a very easy question, for example, do I like (favourite food or drink). Close your eyes and really feel inside your body. Feel your unique body’s response to the yes inside. Mine is a feeling of energy circulating in a circle around my heart, but yours might be completely different. Then ask yourself the same question for a food or drink you really dislike. Feel the response inside your body. Once you have familiarized yourself with your own response, you can start practicing with every day questions. The more you practice the easier it becomes.

    Drumming

    • I cannot resist mentioning drumming because I love it. It is one of my preferred forms of meditation. You do not need to be musically trained. Research shows that drumming to a simple, repetitive, heartbeat like rhythms, causes the brain waves to slow down, which helps to get the mind chatter out of the way. I wrote a blog called Drum healing, bullshit? about my self-taught drumming journey. Over the last year I have drummed twice weekly in the local nature reserve first thing in the morning. It is the most nourishing spiritual practice for me.

     

     

  • The miracles that happen when you have no expectations

    The miracles that happen when you have no expectations

    As I write this, I just came back from the annual doula retreat.

    This year was my 6th year there.

    I’ve written about the retreat before here.

    Organised by doula Selina Wallis, the retreat is a unique space for doulas and birthworkers to gather and recharge. It’s held in the most magical place. Cae Mabon is an eco retreat located near Llanberis, in Snowdonia. It’s a ten min walk down from a car park located at the end of a dirt road.

    Located on the side of a mountain, with a stream running on its side, and a lake at the bottom, the eco village is composed of dwellings that look like they belong in a Tolkien novel. One of them, in fact, is called the hobbit hut. Low ceilinged, and with grass growing on their roofs, the dwellings are dotted around a clearing in the forest.

    The dwellings are basic, containing about 4 beds each, and there is no running water or electricity in most of them (there is a shared washroom and a gas powered shower, and compost toilets). This maybe off putting for some but for me it’s part of the charm of the place, because it encourages us to spend much time outside.

    The place it’s in is just beautiful, with wild, ancient forests, and nature untouched by humans.

    There is a deep feeling of reconnection with nature, and the place is not only beautiful and peaceful, but it has a lovely, benevolent and calming energy too.

    As well as the huts we sleep in, there is a Viking style roundhouse with fire pit in the middle where we gather to sing songs, drum or listen to stories, from our resident storyteller, Rachel O Leary.

    There is a barn/kitchen with electricity and we take our meals and workshops there too. Someone is cooking for us whilst we’re there, which is bliss in itself for a mother like me.

    And the cherry on the cake is the fire heated cedar hot tub on the side of the stream, in which we hang out at night with a glass of white and put the birth world to rights.

    All of this would be blissful enough by itself, but we also have workshops there.

    I can trace almost every single aspect of the work I do today back to the retreat.

    The first year, in 2013 I attended the Closing the Bones workshop with Rocio Alarcon there. If I had been told back then 6 years later, I would have, together with Maddie Mc Mahon, trained nearly 350 people in offering this beautiful ritual, I would have laughed.

    But back to this year’s retreat and the title of this blog.

    This year I wasn’t as excited as I’d been in years past about the workshops planned at the retreat. We had a singing workshop and a Henna workshop booked. Singing is always lovely but I’ve been singing in a choir for over 16 years so it’s not something that’s new to me. Same with the Henna as we had done this already at the retreat in 2014.

    I was still looking forward to hanging out with like minded spirits in Cae Mabon this year, but I was also a bit disappointed about not learning amazing new skills.

    As with many other occasions in my life, when my expectations are low, it’s usually when I end up having a complete life changing experience.

    It wasn’t part of the official plan but when we got there, Alexandra Wilson, a celebrant, doula and end of life doula, offered to do a talking about the end of life doulaing training that she does, followed by a grief ceremony the next day.

    As with many topics and experiences I know little about, I was curious but not overtly excited.

    I went with my usual curiosity though.

    The talk about death doulaing blew my mind, because Alexandra talked about her experience moving from being a death doula to a birth one and talked about the similarities about the grief in birth and in death, and about the joy too. I didn’t get it so I asked a lot of questions and also for examples. I had never seen it through that angle, and by the end I got the concept of the grief in birth (namely the huge changes for both baby and parents), and for the joy in death too. She presented death in a completely different way to my own mindset. She explained that the more she worked with death the more she saw death as a welcoming big mama rather than the grim reaper most of us have in mind. Ā It made sense to me, after all, if you believe, like I do, that we are all spirits having a human experience, then all we are doing when we die is returning to the lovely place we came from.

    The grief ceremony blew even more of my mind away. After taking us through a guided meditation through the different doorways of death, Alexandra placed 4 objects representing tears, fear, numbness and anger on the floor and invited those of us who felt drawn to come forward to hold the objects and express their feelings. Something very interesting happened as we all shared loud, messy powerful emotions and tears, without the need to speak, each one of us sending and receiving what we needed. I was reminded of Brene Brown’s book, “Braving the wilderness” when she says that we need to share collective joy and collective pain

    ” Funerals, in fact, are one of the most powerful examples of collective pain. They feature in a surprising finding from my research on trust. When I asked participants to identify three to five specific behaviors that their friends, family, and colleagues do that raise their level of trust with them, funerals always emerged in the top three responses. Funerals matter. Showing up to them matters. And funerals matter not just to the people grieving, but to everyone who is there. The collective pain (and sometimes joy) we experience when gathering in any way to celebrate the end of a life is perhaps one of the most powerful experiences of inextricable connection. Death, loss, and grief are the great equalizers.”

    Alexandra then held the object herself and expressed her emotions loudly and powerfully. I had the realisation that it didn’t matter that I hadn’t gone to hold the objects myself (I had been drawn to so but had hesitated : something had held me back and I had come to understand that others needed it more that day), because when she cried, she cried for all of us, when she screamed in anger, she screamed for all of us.

    I’m 48 years old. I’ve never seen a dead person, because as a child when people died my family sheltered me from it, believing it was the best.

    The grief ceremony felt like it was the most powerful experience of shared grief I had ever had in my life.

    The following day still we had yet another unplanned workshop. A woman called Samina who works at Cae Mabon did a movement/dance workshop for us. Again I didn’t expect much but it was another incredibly powerful experience as we moved silently and in an undirected manner as a group. I shed a deep layer of lack of self love during that experience. We all have deep rooted fears of not belonging and not being loved, so when during the danced we had to pair, fears around lack of self love I have been working on for well over 2 years (since I took my Reiki Master training) resurfaced, and once again I was the little girl who was worried about not being picked and not having a partner. Only this time it didn’t happen and I had a deep realisation that a layer had been peeled away. Just like that. Difficult to put into simple words, but it was instant and deep, yet the culmination of many months of work.

    I came away from this retreat a different person, feeling I’d healed deep wounds and peeled away layers of myself I no longer needed.

    Once again I was shown the magic that can happen when you have no expectations

     

    Ā