Back in 2010 when I still lived in London, I attended my first ten day silent Vipassana meditation retreat in the lovely rolling countryside of Herefordshire.

​Obviously no phones are allowed during these retreats, as well as no talking (both prospects I was enthusiastically looking forward to, curiously enough). Also, no paper and writing/drawing/painting tools to document your insights and aha moments. Nothing.

Unless you’ve been happily living under a rock, you’ll have noticed that the idea of staying safe has been gaining a lot of traction in the collective consciousness over the last couple of years.

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​From the perspective of the nervous system, this is interesting.

As I sit down and look at the blank page in front of me, a sense of panic bubbles up. The last few months have been a ride. Life has taken me apart, and is putting me back together. These days, I’m leaning into being + doing from someplace new, a place that’s still a Mystery to me, not unlike a blank page.

Every time I’ve sat in ceremony with plant medicine teachers, whether psychedelic or otherwise, the wisdom I’ve received is “Hey, human - remember you’re also this and something way, way, way more vast, mysterious and magnificent. Play around in this-here dimension of consciousness by all means, but please, by goddess, don’t forget what you are and get stuck here!”

One of my fondest memories of my very early years spent in India, where I was born, is of the annual Durga Puja at my mother’s ancestral home in the state of Bengal, north-east India.

The celebration at the family seat’s temple there dates back to the 16th century, and each autumn the victorious Goddess has been welcomed back “home” after defeating the buffalo-demon Mahishasura.

The roots of the word “wealth” can be found in the Old English wela and the Middle English weal meaning well-being.

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​This was also intimately connected with wholeness in terms of health and well-being. In fact, to heal essentially means to make whole.

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​A symbol of wholeness is the spiral- common to Indigenous traditions from around the world. The DNA molecule is also unmistakably spiral-shaped: we literally have wholeness coded into us.

A few months ago, my husband, Oli and I happily found out that I was pregnant. The decision to intentionally become parents has been a journey for both of us.

Imagine if you will, a gorgeous midsummer’s dusk. Along with others, you’re gathered outside in the wilderness, perhaps in a clearing at the edge of a woodland. A bright, lively stream flows through the land and you can smell the subtle fragrance of wildflowers in the air.

Are you one of those vibrant souls who’s been punished for being “too much”.

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Believing that we are somehow inherently deficient and not enough is the biggest lie that we’ve been force-fed as truth from the earliest of ages.

Every time I sidestep my truth by fawning (people-pleasing), I abandon my Self - the essence of me, my soul.

I was recently reminded of the short parable of the Fisherwomen and the Flowers, as told by the great Indian mystic, Swami Vivekananda.

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It goes like this:

One of the most common issues that clients approach me for one to one work is around being burned out.

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This pandemic of perpetual burnout seems to be one of the most prevalent conditions in our culture, and alarmingly normalized - glorified, even - to the point that people don’t bother to address it until they’re teetering on a dangerous edge of a near-total system shutdown.

Let’s be honest, our prevailing culture of non-stop busy-ness and mental stimulation seldom allows for a slow, full-bodied, receptive “yes” to the helpless vulnerability of raw gratitude. Instead, gratitude has generally become a “life-hack”, a “doing-to-get” exercise, where the discomfort of embodied, heart-based surrender is generally absent.

Whatever you do, do not approach any journey towards change and transformation from the perspective of self-improvement (shudder!) or trying to “fix” yourself somehow.

Since the desert took me in almost a decade ago, I’ve been shedding layer after layer of ill-fitting beliefs lurking within me that were not of my conscious choosing; distorted value systems and their attendant powers to make meaning and create realities instilled in me by family, culture and society, who for the most part did not consciously choose these for themselves either.

I’m often asked to identify the audience sector or (horror of horrors) the demographic that my work, creations and offerings are aimed at.

​This makes me chuckle.

​A few lifetimes ago, I worked in an environment that sought to strip the human soul of all her rich, wild depths and reduce her to her lowest (and most meaningless) common denominator: a demographic which needs to be force-fed a specific flavour of scarcity and not-good-enoughness in order to keep her in a trance of feeling perpetually lacking and incomplete.

If ever there was a time that White Buffalo Woman needed to be called into the collective, it's now. And of course, when this sort of work is done in a group situation, the effects are amplified.

One of the beautiful souls who is participating in my membership program, Root + Rise recently reminded me of this powerful quote by the unforgettable bell hooks from her masterpiece, All About Love.

​If ever there was a time to remember and embody the urgent wisdom of hooks’ words, it’s now.

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The other day, my sister, Tara, told me a compelling little story about one of my favourite humans, my two year old niece, Ila (pronounced eye-la ;))

​Tara usually tells her “Ila makes mama happy.” To which Ila responds “Mama makes Ila happy.” This time she also went on to say, “Ila makes Ila happy.” And then proceeded to give her reflection in the mirror a wholehearted kiss.