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  • The Ecology of Presence: Why Re-Embodiment is a Radical Act.

    The Ecology of Presence: Why Re-Embodiment is a Radical Act.

    🌀 Reclaiming the Small Body: Why Re-Embodiment Matters More Than Ever

    We live in a culture that has become profoundly disembodied.

    The average person has between 15,000 and 90,000 thoughts per day — a staggering mental churn that keeps us suspended in the realm of cognition. We’re encouraged to live in our heads, to value speed, productivity, and intellect above all else. Rarely are we invited to pause, feel, or listen to the quieter rhythms of the body.

    I have been reflecting on this cultural disconnection. We’ve lost touch with what I call the small body: our physical, tactile, energetic self.  Because, far from just flesh and bone, the body is a sensing instrument, a portal to presence. It’s also a bridge to something much larger: the large body of the earth, the ecosystem, and wider field of life.

    🧠 The Worship of Intellect and What It Costs Us

    One striking signal of our cultural imbalance is how we allocate resources. In the United States, the largest financial endowment ever made was to Harvard University , an institution that epitomizes the worship of intellect. Harvard’s endowment now exceeds $53 billion, funding research, innovation, and academic excellence.  The leading universities in the UK, Cambridge and Oxford, are renowned for having some of the largest financial endowments, often competing closely with each other. This underscores just how much value is placed on intellect, on both sides of the pond.

    It isn’t inherently wrong to value intellect. Indisputably, intellectual pursuits are fundamental in terms of how they fuel advancements, foster growth and shape society.  But let’s consider some of the vital things which get lost when intellect becomes the dominant or only perceived form of valued intelligence:

    We lose somatic intelligence — the wisdom of the body.
    We lose emotional intelligence — the capacity to feel and relate.
    We lose intuitive intelligence — the knowing that arises without logic.
    We lose relational intelligence — the ability to attune, connect, and co-regulate.

    To elevate one form of knowing while dismissing the others is imbalanced, dangerous even. It leads to fragmentation, alienation, and a loss of meaning.

    And it’s no coincidence that so many people today feel anxious, numb, or disconnected.

    🌍 The Small Body and the Large Body

    The small body – our personal, felt experience – was never meant to exist in isolation. It is in constant dialogue with the large body: the earth, the seasons, the cycles of life. Indigenous traditions, ancient philosophies, and somatic lineages have long understood this relationship.

    The way we treat our bodies mirrors the way we treat the earth.

    When we neglect the small body, we also neglect the large body.
    When we override our own signals, we override the signals of the planet.
    When we numb ourselves, we numb our empathy for the world around us.

    đŸŒ± A Path Back: Embodiment in Practice

    The good news is that can return.

    We can learn to listen again, through breath, movement, sensation, and presence. There are teachings and practices that support this re-embodiment, and they’re more relevant now than ever.  Through these teachings and practices we can heal the split between mind and body, self and world; we can reclaim presence in a world that profits from our distraction.

    Re-embodiment doesn’t mean abandoning intellect. It means integrating it. It means listening to the body’s signals, honouring its rhythms, and allowing it to guide us, in movement, in decision-making, relationships, and creativity.

    This is a key component within my seven-week course, rooted in the foundations of embodiment. It’s designed to guide you gently back to the wisdom of your own body and the deeper connection it holds.

    We’ll explore:

    • Somatic awareness and nervous system regulation
    • Philosophical inquiry into body-mind integration
    • Tools for daily embodiment in a disembodied world

    If you’re curious, I invite you to explore. Not just the course, but the possibility of living from a place of felt presence, grounded awareness, and embodied truth.

    Let’s remember what it means to be fully alive.

  • Rooted and Reaching

    Rooted and Reaching

    🌿 The Nourishment We Carry

    Trees feed themselves through an intricate root system that pulls water and nutrients from the soil. This process is quiet and constant. Hidden underground, the roots are doing the work of drawing in minerals that sustain every branch, leaf, and bud. The tree doesn’t rush; it trusts the slow, steady flow of nourishment rising from below.

    We do something similar. The nutrients we take in -from food, air, and sunlight -move through our bloodstream and into our cells, keeping our bodies strong and balanced. What trees absorb through roots, we absorb through veins. Our systems are internal, but they echo the same principle: life depends on circulation.

    But nourishment isn’t just physical. Trees respond to light, air, and the changing seasons. They bend with the wind, rest in winter, bloom when conditions are right. We, too, are shaped by what we take in emotionally and relationally, what we listen to, who we connect with, how we rest.  Tension can be softened with a kind word. Walking outdoors can calm the nervous system. A moment of stillness can restore balance.

    It’s all part of our internal and external ecosytem. Like trees, we need to be fed consistently to grow well, not just what we consume but how it circulates through us, keeping everything in rhythm. Growth is as much integration and flow, as it is about intake, and the importance of these quiet systems that sustain us.

    đŸȘ” The Stillness that Holds Us

    Once whilst on a silent five day retreat was the instruction to go and stand opposite a tree, to feel commonality with it.

    An easy place to start in exploring this is the grounded rootedness at the base of the tree trunk, its roots reaching deep into the ground. It can be so helpful to feel that we, too, are rooted within solid ground.

    To stand before a tree is to be reminded that stability exists. 

    There are many moments during the day, be they fleeting or enduring, when the whirlwind of thought lifts us from ourselves. We can be swept up in mental activity for indefinite lengths of time, unaware even, that we have come away from a sense of ground.  Blown around like the weather and lacking a sense of stable ground beneath us.

    Trees offer the antidote. We could think of it as replugging the circuit: it’s as if without this electrical charge plugged into the ground we are susceptible to every wind that blows, every emotion, thought or mindstate. Grounding ourselves is like a re-entry into a slower current, an earth-borne vibration that steadies the nervous system.

    Trees can remind us that with a sense of our charge plugged into the earth, we don’t have to be tossed by every wind. We are wired, quite literally, to connect to the earth’s charge, to feel supported, held, regulated.

    This has always something of a fascinating area to me, ever since learning about the contemplations of the body in terms of earth, air, water and fire.  I could sense the vast potential of the earth element within trauma healing.  As if in confirmation of this, I learnt soon after that these modalities make much of grounding and stabilisation at their core.

    🌀 The Shape of Becoming

    We often talk about healing as something to achieve, almost as if new levels of growth are untouched by what came before. But isn’t it more the case that real growth is from accumulation of, rather than overwriting experience? Trees remind us of this so beautifully.

    When we look closely we can see where the bark thickened during a hard season, where water was scarce, where lightning kissed the trunk. Rather than scars these are integrity made visible. To honour experiences like these is to reject the pressure to be endlessly smooth or untouched. In a similar way I say that I grew through the fire, not over it. My depth isn’t formed from leaving stuff behind but from integrating it.

    The trees’ rings hold memory in form. Each ring corresponds to a year in the tree’s life. And in the same way, each year of our life leaves a trace, visible or felt so that our inner architecture is  built incrementally, from the inside out. Bodies and minds archive stories: grief that stretched us wider, joy that softened something brittle, stillness that taught us to listen to our heart. These rings are not always symmetrical, and nor should they be. They reflect how we’ve metabolised experience rather than just survived them. They hold the shape of us, year by year, without needing explanation.

  • Loneliness Reframed

    Loneliness Reframed

    How Society Frames Connection

    Is loneliness necessarily the absence of company, or the result of how ‘connection’ is framed in society?

    Similar to the majority of people, most of what I do is in pursuit of connection.  As a social person who seeks and thrives from connection I value relationships with people and with the world around me. And at the same time circumstances have urged me to feel an increasing pull towards the richness of relationships beyond traditional frameworks or definitions.  

    The way society defines connection, tying it to roles rather than experience, often diminishes the ways in which true belonging actually unfolds. Furthermore if these traditional structures elude you for whatever reason, the sense of belonging and of inclusion can be elusive to non-existent at times.

    I believe connection can extend to presence itself; a way of being fully engaged with moments as they unfold.

    Navigating Exclusion and Assumption

    Childlessness was one of the hardest realities I navigated through my thirties, filled with uncertainty and exclusion. Not knowing why it couldn’t ‘happen for me’ or whether I’d ever ‘join that club’ made those years feel isolating and highly fear-driven. I was also not lacking other circumstantial challenges during this time.

    Then, after losing both my parents at 45yrs, I realised I had no immediate family in the traditional sense.

    What struck me as much as my own grief, however, was the way it was sometimes assumed that these realities made my life
 lesser, and how unhelpful this was.

    The Structural Exclusion of Connection

    When institutions cater to predefined groups, the exclusion isn’t just incidental; it’s structural. It’s striking how often this divide is reinforced, in church services centred around families, social events that assume certain relational dynamics, even casual conversations that frame family as the ultimate marker of fulfilment.

    These structures don’t just overlook those who exist outside of them; they implicitly cast them as “missing something.”

    Over several years, this conditions the nervous system to crave something broader in pursuit of meaningful survival and belonging.

    Mindfulness and the Depth of Connection

    The ancient, universal teachings of Buddhism, discovered on my part via mindfulness training, offer a depth of wisdom so reassuring as to be genuinely restorative. The relevance is such that they often illuminate what I’m experiencing in this very moment as though they were speaking directly to me.

    One of my favourite of the contemplations of the body is in terms of the four natural elements; from this perspective we connect these elemental forces around us and within us and they offer us their gifts. This frames the body as the doorway to love, because the body is the doorway to every experience.

    This kind of love is expansive, boundless and free of assumption. It doesn’t measure belonging by lineage or biological markers but simply recognises existence itself as a form of inclusion. Our experience of this is deepened through meditation which, over time, increasingly permeates our waking moments.

    I had never previously come across such intelligence and care that truly considers every nuance in terms of every breath, every sensation, and every interaction without the labels and categorisations that can unintentionally exclude.

    Connection Beyond the Human Experience

    Within this, connection itself reaches beyond the human experience, woven into the fabric of being, unbounded by species or expectation. This brings to mind the unrivalled love that exists with my cat, the bond untethered from assumption or hierarchy, rooted purely in presence, trust and the profound understanding that needs no words.

    For some, this same depth of connection is found in nature, in the quiet communion with the land, the trees, the movement of water and air with little separation of that inside and outside of the body. This relationship exists from participation and reciprocity where one becomes part of something infinite, held by the rhythms of the world itself.

    A New Way to See Love and Belonging

    This reframing is not only profound but deeply helpful because of the acknowledgement of experience as the foundation of connection, rather than predefined relationships. It moves away from social constructs and towards the immediacy of being, the way we engage with life at its most elemental level.

    Society often assumes that loneliness is inevitable, as if connection can only be validated through specific roles. Mindfulness can show us that the absence of traditional family ties doesn’t mean a life devoid of richness. True connection isn’t determined by a family tree as much as it’s found in the world around us, in every moment we inhabit fully.

    Mindfulness allows us to engage with love and connection beyond external validation and rooted instead in the immediacy of experience.

    That is worth more than any predefined role or expectation.

  • The Paradox of Productivity

    The Paradox of Productivity

    There are days when the to-do list seems endless. It’s so overwhelming that I don’t even know where to begin.

    Every task feels important and starting one thing feels like neglecting another. The thought of the things I haven’t done, and the mental energy spent thinking about not having done them often feels more exhausting than actually doing them.

    But there’s still no clear starting point. It feels like time is being wasted, even though you’re constantly busy. It’s the familiar pattern of never taking a break, yet never catching up either.  It’s a cycle that’s all too easy to fall into.

    The pattern was a constant companion during my years as a primary school teacher. The pressure, the demands, the never-ending list of tasks, each one seeming to hold equal importance. With the eclectic life I have nowadays I often find that similar feeling creeping in: the more I try to keep up, the more overwhelmed I become.

    The Counterproductive Solution

    In these moments, what feels completely counterproductive is the idea of pausing. To do “nothing”. To breathe. To focus on the body and notice the sensations of breathing.

    On the surface, taking a break like this feels like the last thing I should be doing. I should be working, ticking off items from the list. It seems almost impossible to justify stepping away for a few moments when the pressure to “get things done” is so intense.

    But after just a few minutes of doing this, of being intentionally still, quiet, breathing
something shifts. When I return to the situation I was in, it feels different. Lighter. Quieter. The weight of the tasks that were looming over me doesn’t feel as heavy. I can see them more clearly, without the cloud of stress surrounding them.

    Presence Over Perfection

    I still don’t know exactly where to start, but I start somewhere with something. There’s a sense of presence now in whatever I’m doing. The background noise of tasks still exists, but it no longer controls my every thought and action. I can acknowledge the tasks that are piling up, and then let them go somehow without letting them define my entire day.

    This shift in perspective has been one of the most important lessons I’ve learned over time.  And the biggest insight I take from it is this:

    It’s in the moment when I feel I have the least time to meditate that I need it the most.

    We often believe that we’re too busy to take breaks, but it’s precisely in these moments when a pause can make all the difference. The act of sitting still, of taking a moment for mindfulness, is not a luxury or an indulgence. It’s an essential part of managing stress and maintaining clarity.

    More Than the Moment You Sit Down

    Meditation isn’t actually for the minutes we spend sitting in stillness as much as it’s for all the moment that follow. It’s the quiet intention that permeates everything else. Grounding ourselves creates a foundation of calm that we can carry with us throughout the day.

    Pausing, being still, turning our attention inward
these are not escapes, but returns to ourselves, to the present moment, and to the clarity we need to navigate everything else.  Stillness doesn’t solve the chaos of life but it softens our relationship to it. It allows us to approach our tasks, challenges and relationships with more patience, presence and perspective.

    From that place, I don’t need to have everything figured out before I start. I can just begin, one step at a time. The overwhelming weight of everything doesn’t feel as heavy and I move through the day more steadily.

    The Power of Pausing

    The irony is that stillness often feels like the least productive thing to do, especially in times of pressure. Yet in reality it’s often the most effective thing we can do. It’s the foundation for greater productivity, clarity and well-being. It helps us manage stress and become more mindful of how we respond to the demands of the day.

    So, the next time you feel the weight of a never-ending list and a constant pull to keep pushing, remember: sometimes the most productive thing you can do is to pause. Then, from a place of stillness, move forward, one thing at a time.

    Final Thoughts

    Life will always be busy, and the to-do lists will never truly be “done”. But by integrating small moments of stillness and mindfulness we can change how we approach those lists.  We can navigate the busyness with more calm, more presence and more grace.

    When we feel we have the least time to pause, it’s often when we need it the most.

    Learn how to build a meditation practice into your life in the HMB Course.