A book born from awakening, written for anyone who’s ever been misunderstood by a system that couldn’t see them clearly. I didn’t set out to write this book. I wasn’t trying to be an author. I wasn’t following a strategy. I wasn’t thinking about audiences, markets, or algorithms. The book simply arrived — in the middle of an awakening that looked nothing like the glossy, robe-wearing non-duality we’re used to seeing, and everything like a life that refused to stay in the shap

I’ve realised something over the past few months: most people don’t need an hour with me. They need clarity. A moment of realignment. A shift out of fog and back into themselves. Something simple, sharp, and grounded enough to change their day. So I’ve opened a new micro-offering: 15-Minute Realignment — £33 A short, focused space to get you unstuck, clear, and moving again. Not therapy. Not coaching. Just truth, perspective, and presence — exactly when you need it. If you’re

For a long time, I thought healing meant progress. Steps. Stages. Improvements you could chart. There was always a ladder, even if it was invisible. Better sleep. Fewer symptoms. More coping. Somewhere up ahead, a version of me who had “made it.” It’s such a seductive myth — the idea that we’re heading somewhere better. That one day, we’ll feel how we’re supposed to. That we’ll wake up in a body that behaves. That the shame will dissolve. That we’ll become normal enough to be

It’s the glue. The ground. The point. There’s something quiet happening in mental health services right now. It’s not a dramatic restructure, not a scandal splashed across the headlines. It’s subtler than that. And more dangerous. Compassion is being quietly reframed as inefficient. Relational care — the kind that actually holds people — is being seen as a luxury. People who’ve been supported for years are suddenly being discharged, medication plans are being changed without

I didn’t do anything dramatic. Didn’t change my hair. Didn’t walk in with a mission. Didn’t even mean to be noticed. I just wore the kimono. Well — it’s not even a full kimono. It’s a cardigan-shaped one. Half soft rebellion, half “this’ll do.” I wasn’t trying to make a point. I just wanted to feel like myself. Comfortable. Clear. Unhidden. But something happened. Not in the fabric — in the field. People started looking at me differently. Some commented on the kimono. Others

This week, seven people found their way to my blog on unconditional love. No comments. No fanfare. Just a quiet arriving. And I felt it. There’s something beautiful about that kind of visit — not loud, not seeking attention, just a gentle yes in the field. I know that kind of movement. It’s how I’ve found my way to truth before — not all at once, but slowly, soul-first. Clicking on something because it called me, not because I knew what I was looking for. That blog post came