For a long time, I couldn’t fully do what was asked. I have let go of so much in the last year. My home, a long partnership, security, stability — all of it placed on the altar and offered.

But this… I held onto. And I understand now why.

My work was never really a business. It was devotion.

It was service. It was how my love for the divine moved through me and into the world. And when something is that sacred, releasing it can feel like releasing your faith itself.

There’s no full moon fire ceremony that can truly free you of this

The only way out is through….

Right. through. you.

Take a seat at the table and stick it on the plate in front of you

Look at it. Take it all in. One last time.

Don’t look away

Stare it in the face

Feel the heat rising in your squirming body

For many wellness practitioners, this isn’t theoretical. It’s personal. When income becomes less predictable, when bookings fluctuate, when people want depth but can’t always afford it, there’s a quiet pressure to sound acceptable to as many people as possible.

Reiju is often translated as spiritual blessing or empowerment.

Rather than a one-time experience, it was traditionally offered to students regularly, allowing their connection with Reiki to deepen slowly and organically over time.

Reiki, in this way, is not something we “learn” and then use.

It is a relationship — one that unfolds through presence, practice, and humility.

And here is what the generations before us didn’t quite recognise while they were “choosing” the paths we were expected to follow:

they, too, had been trained—

trained to fit the system, trained to follow the timeline, trained to keep up with the Joneses,

trained not to question the way things are because “that’s just the world”.

Trained to silence the parts of themselves that were aching, furious, hopeful, longing for change.

I want to be clear about something…If you’ve found yourself stuck in a cycle of exhaustion, overload, temporary relief, and then right back into the same patterns again — it doesn’t mean you’re doing healing “wrong.”

It’s not you. It’s the system.

The truth is, the structures we live in are designed to keep us here. Capitalism, individualism, corporate greed, governments more invested in the economy than in people’s wellbeing — they all benefit from us being drained, compliant, and too tired to question.

You can’t outrun yourself forever. Believe me, I tried.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on the importance of integration as a spiritual practitioner and teacher.

We live in a time when it’s so easy to become a spiritual butterfly — fluttering from one modality to the next: a ceremony here, a medicine there, a new coach or retreat, clutching at straws, hoping the next thing will fix us.

What struck me most is that in previous dreams or visualisations, when I’ve found myself in a house, it’s always been a space that represented my own mind. These unfamiliar houses felt like something else entirely: the minds of others. The inherited beliefs of society. The cluttered architecture of conditioning.

It’s a strange thing, learning to live with impermanence.

Since we set off on this journey, we’ve stayed in eight different homes, a tent, and a retreat centre. Plans arise and dissolve. Opportunities appear, and vanish just as quickly—only to be replaced, redirected, or paused entirely. Change has become our rhythm.

One of the greatest unknowns when we began this journey wasn’t where we would end up - but what it would feel like to no longer have a fixed place to call home.

Letting go of our possessions was one thing.

Letting go of our home - our physical shelter, our so-called security - was quite another. It brought up fears and discomfort, not just in us, but in the people around us.

Especially here, in an affluent town in one of the UK’S more well-off counties, the idea of giving up a rented home by choice can sound unthinkable. Radical. Even reckless.

It’s been four weeks since we began our coddiwomple—a purposeful wandering toward an as-yet-unknown destination. In that time, my partner and I have traded the familiar for the fluid. Each day brings unexpected lessons, especially about the art of letting go.

What surprised me most? I don’t miss my altar.

I created a travel version, carefully packed it… and haven’t touched it.

Instead, I’ve been turning inward more deeply than ever. The sacred hasn’t been lost—it’s been distilled.

As Rumi says:

“Everything you seek is within you.” Even altars.

This is Part 1 of a new series I’m sharing—reflections on what it means to release, root, and remember ourselves on the move.

I’m calling it A Sacred Unravelling.

As someone who walks the path of both Yoga and Druidry, silence is woven into my spiritual practice in a way that feels both ancient and deeply personal. In yoga, silence is a discipline—a way to still the restless mind. In Druidry, it’s a way of listening—to the land, the trees, the whispers of something greater.

But in modern life, silence is rare. We rush to fill it, fearing the discomfort of sitting with ourselves. Yet across many traditions, silence is not a void—it’s a gateway to something deeper.

To coddiwomple, to travel purposefully toward an as-yet-unknown destination.

At the age of 44, here I am about to get my coddiwomple on…

To wake up before dawn, live by strict spiritual discipline, and dedicate every moment to devotion? I took the leap and spent seven days inside the world of the Hare Krishnas by participating in their “ be a monk challenge”—here’s what I learned.

For much of human history, darkness has been misunderstood. It’s often seen as something to avoid, fear, or conquer. In a world flooded with artificial light and constant stimulation, we’ve grown distant from darkness—both the literal kind that comes with nightfall and the metaphorical kind that accompanies introspection, uncertainty, and change.

But what if darkness, like light, has its own gifts to offer? What if instead of running from it, we learned to embrace it?

In a world that rarely pauses, silence has become a rare and precious gift. Yet, our relationship with silence is complicated. For some, it represents peace and clarity; for others, it stirs discomfort or even fear. What if we could reclaim the power of silence—not as something to avoid or endure, but as a source of strength and nourishment?

This blog was inspired by my own conscious business journey and my desire to support others on theirs. It is a new road for many of us to navigate and there is not many maps available yet. So it is wonderful to be surrounded by other like - minded business owners. Much love to the lovely peeps in the photo - these are some of our conscious business community members and they inspire and encourage me every day.

On the morning of my 43rd birthday on Monday 8th April 2024, I walked into a purpose built dark retreat room, blew out the small candle that would be my last glimpse of light for the three days and nights to follow.

Manifestation is a Myth.

Why I believe Manifestation is not all it is cracked up to be.

It is OK to NOT be OK!