And then all the noise fades. The problems, the plans, the need to prove or fix anything - it is gone. On that scale, nothing really matters. And somehow, that’s the most peaceful feeling there is.

In psychology, Puella doesn’t mean a young girl in real life. It means a certain way of being inside - a symbolic pattern in the human psyche. The term Puella comes from Latin and evokes the “young feminine on the brink of becoming… at a crossroads.”

Familly constellations. What exluded or remains ungrieved finds expression in the body, behaviour, or fate of descendants, until someone sees it.

When was the last time you climbed up on a stone or pressed your palms or body against it for no logical reason at all, just because it called you?

Why we sometimes choose to cling to suffering?

I was in a tsunami disaster, but I remembered I had already dreamed, relived or predicted this. It was a dream remembering another dream. I felt like I was recreating my own movie, Inception, inside the dream.

You are only free when you realise you belong in no place - you belong every place - no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great.

THE TRICKSTER - MESSENGER OF REVOLUTION

From communal joy and participation to performance and spectatorship.

When the Sky Changes, So Do We: A Quiet Revolution in the World and the Soul.

When guests were expected — the whole family — the chicken was chosen…

Frames will probably always exist.
But if we become the ones who shape them, not the other way around, we feel free within ourselves and the frames.

I honour my dreams and their strange ways of speaking.

Sometimes the soul chooses another land, language or or way of expression not to escape, but to express, learn and regrow.

Algol — the archetype of the silenced, violated, and demonised feminine.

Let’s stop shaming what is natural.
Let’s welcome tears as part of being whole.

When we punish instead of guide, we pass on the trauma of control. When we teach through love, we raise humans who do not need to UNLEARN FEAR to find themselves.

A Reflection on Gender Fluidity and the Soul’s Journey.

“Hey, dear… it’s time to do something about that realism. (You know, the one that smells suspiciously like pessimism?) Here, have some pink glasses—plus a chaotic parade of odd little creatures.

Singing as a bridge between the physical and spiritual, between self and others, between chaos and harmony.