One of my many favourite bits in C. G. Jung’s memoirs, Memories, Dreams, Reflections is his account of his visit with the Pueblo – the Indigenous people of New Mexico.

This was back in the 1920s. For the Swiss Jung, his travels revealed to him how he “was still caught up and imprisoned in the cultural consciousness of the white man.”

On Winter Solstice, we’ll begin a new adventure with one of the Grail legends, the tale of the Fisher King.

I wasn’t planning on writing today. But this dropped in and asked to be written as I was getting ready to go visit a dear, wise friend who lives way, way out in the desert wilderness, where cellphone signals are non-existent. It’s clear that the few people who live out there really don’t want to be bothered.

I write often about unhooking from aggressive, push-on-through (non)culture and the toxic glorification of busy-ness.
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Today, I want to briefly explore some of the nuances around this, namely around navigating this space in a way that’s radical, resilient and loving.

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.