About Me
Awaken Her, how exciting, has come to fruition in my 60th year. And I step into this decade honoured to take my place in the circle of elders and crones.
Below is a beautiful poem, which I have slightly adapted! that resonates about what it means to me to become an elder and crone.
“My 60th year had come and gone.
I sat, a solitary woman, in a crowded London shop.
An open book and empty cup. On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed.
My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less. It seemed, so great my happiness.
That I felt blessed.” William Yeats
I have studied Shamanism and been a student of Shamanic practices for over 7 years. And over the last few years I have been weaving Shamanic counselling skills and practices learnt with traditional Psychotherapy as a way of supporting clients to dive deeper into their therapeutic, healing processes and Psychotherapy journeys.(CLICK HERE to visit Finding You)
Shamanic practitioners are often described as “gardeners of energy” . I combine classical Shamanism with a form of Feminine Energy Medicine, both of which I continue to study and explore. Feminine Energy Medicine was said to be practised by the Bee Priestesses of Demeter, known as the Melissae. And the Eleusinian mysteries; initiations, “rites” practices and offerings spark my imagination, curiosity and continue to fascinate me.
I have also been weaving story medicine into traditional Psychotherapy practices for many years now. Another type of medicine which I have found can also deepen and enrich therapeutic, healing processes and Psychotherapy journeys.
I have witnessed time and time again how the mixture of these 3 types of medicine; Shamanic, Psychotherapy and story, can create a potent therapeutic and healing potion.
I have met and worked with some amazing shamanic teachers over the past 7 to 8 years. And my studies, journeys and practices continue. I remain curious, open to possibility and new journeys, knowing that there is always something new to learn, new connections to be made and a vast amount of re-remembering to do.
The Summer Day By Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean…the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
The one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
Who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down,
Who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes,
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face,
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
How to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
