I'm descending, and it feels so right.

It’s the height of summer in our Polish nook of the world —
and I’m curled up in a blanket with a lit candle, feeling all wintry, dark, and slooooow.

I’ve not written in a while because I’ve been going through something profound. Something that needs time and space — and I’m giving myself just that.

Yes, I’ve written about slowness in my latest email. But it bears repeating. Because clearly I didn't listen to my own advice. I knew that I was flying too close to the Sun, but couldn’t stop. So the stop found me.

Many things occurred during my radio silence:
An identity collapse after recognising my connection to the autistic community.
Toxic brain excitation .
Then seizures.
Then a misdiagnosis of epilepsy.
Then my decision: it isn’t medical. There’s nothing wrong to fix.
It’s psycho-spiritual.
It’s inner.
What followed was a cascade of spontaneous somatic releases,
seizures dissolving,
traumas releasing. Personal and ancestral…
A deepening spiral of healing nights:
waking up shaking, rocking, involuntary movement, sounds, visions —
resets of the nervous system that came like waves.
And I let these adventures take me wherever they might.

But that’s not what I wanted to write about.
I wanted to speak of this:
the need for slowness and self-attunement amidst the furthering acceleration
and the increasing chaos.
Listening into your body when all the bits around are dissolving,
spreading to pieces,
speeding off in every direction and never quite landing.

Because the whole world is up in the air —

it’s in the between, in the liminal space.
It’s not what it was,
and it hasn’t yet decided what it’s going to become.
But while it feels destabilising, you can find your own source of gravity.

Because the whole world is up in the air —

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been attuned to collective cycles —
not always joyfully, but it is what it is.

Now, even though it’s summer,
even though the blackberries are ripening faster than we can eat them,
I’m in the archetypal wintertime.

In this stillness, I’ve lost track of time,
sometimes staring at the tree outside the balcony for what feels like hours.
Other times lying on the floor, letting light shimmy in through the small round acacia leaves.
Drinking in the pleasure of it —
while my inner imagery floats far:
fields of snow under a deep purple sky,
reflected light, frost, stillness as far as the eye can see.

Everyone on social media is talking about Ascension, 5D, quantum leaps,
smiley-faced, light-and-speed kind of stuff.
But I’m happily descending.
Down into slowness.
Down into darkness.
Often through grief,
through rage,
through sadness —
through all the “wrong”, unwelcome states.

And though I’m tired,
doing very little most days —
just resting —
I wanted to drop in from this cosy little abyss,
because perhaps it’s what some of you need to hear.

The healing I've been in — now, and in past cycles:
healing chronic illness, identity collapse,
supporting others —
it has always come back to listening to my mindbody.

Change began when I started to see:
there’s an intelligent consciousness running through my body.
Learning to sense it.
Learning to trust it.
Letting it lead me —
through the most uncomfortable, confusing, and challenging times.

The reasoning mind would often interfere. Override. Judge.
The classic reductionist western mind would say:
“She’s sad — she should change her mindset or go to therapy.”
"She's tense — have to stretch the tension out of her".
“She’s having visions — maybe she’s psychotic.”
“She’s shaking — so should be medicated.”

And that's the path I had used many times.

But there is a deeper knowing in the body.
And the sensitive ones are far more perceptive.
The mindbody has its own authority, shaped by thousands of quiet signals we’re taught to ignore.
And it has always been right.

Today I reflected on how often I was called stubborn.
I never did what people told me to do.
I didn’t enjoy the shows they did.
I didn’t want the things they wanted.
I followed my own intuition.
And it made me feel isolated.
The others chatting, nodding, cheering each other on in their belonging —
while I stood at the fringe.
Strange. Rejected. Disliked.
Invalidated.

And still, the pain of rejection never made me change.
It was simply impossible to be any other way.
And following that intuition —
even when it left me alone —
served me better than any popularity, approval, or illusion of safety.

I tried those things.
They never worked as well as listening to my gut.

So here I am:
in the middle of summer,
wrapped in winter’s veil like a blanket of snow.
Images that follow me around:
tribes in highlands, howling winds,
hands weaving under oil lamps,
traditional lullaby sung in the background. Not all romantic or instagrammable. Harsh. Severe.
My dreams are chaotic, painful, painted with struggle, and death.

All the while, the spiritual circles keep talking about ascension, about leaping.

So my thinking mind might say:
“You’re not in the present moment. You’re out of tune. You’re so negative”.

But am I?

I don’t think so.
I’m in tune with the archetypes.
With the images.
With the deeper states I carry.

Call it Nigredo.
The blackening. The descent.
Who is right is how I should feel?

Older cultures —
not obsessed with light, as New Age thinking is —
knew this descent.
They understood:
you don’t reach spring or summer,
light or ascension,
without rotting.
Without composting.
Without a collapse and grief.
This is nature.
This is truth.

And those who have been with me for a while know that I’ve burned out more than once.
The fire and speed of my sensitive, mentally agile mind —
its insight, its overprocessing faster than the body could integrate, the visionary hyper-connecting , its refusal to let things lie — scorched me from within. But I didn’t waste the ashes. I slowed down and turned that fire into compost.
Another layer of guidance —
a message left for my future self.

We’ve been trained for centuries to override what we feel.
The thinking mind tells us to perform.
To pretend.
To function.
To know.
To have a plan. Or at the very least to have an answer when someone asks…
And the cost of all that pretending and denial
is what’s playing out now
on the world stage.

But while I’ve done the whole functioning stuff, I know this deeper space quite well now.
I’ve lived it many times.
I’ve written from it. Spoken from it.

And still — it’s jarring.
It’s liminal.
The sun shines bright outside,
while inside I see snowdrifts, high boots, wind-whipped porches.

It’s surreal. And yes, disorienting.
But it’s also real. Because when I validate — not pathologise — what I feel, it gains weight. Becomes real, even in a weightless state. And as I accept it, it gets to nourish me. In all the ways I didn’t even think I needed to be nourished.

The space out there, in unknown winter land merges with this sun-ripened moment and I hold these two states.

Because liminal spaces are real.
And winter passes in its own time.
It cannot be rushed.

So I listen to the howling,
and I howl back.
I light the candle.
I sway and move like my body wants.
I growl and hum when I feel like it. 

Feeling and sensing resonates beyond biography, beyond culture, beyond reason.
It rides on frequency.
And in certain states, certain images come.
They find you.
They support you.
They fill the field with something ancient and precise.
Mindbody serves us these because it knows better what we need to find a state of homeostasis.

I now carry the frequency of winter —
and so winter finds me.

So no — I’m not out of tune.
Because cyclically, the world is in winter too.

Everything is collapsing, composting, falling away.
But nothing truly new has emerged yet.
So what’s the rush?
I don’t know what comes next.

Information is speeding.
Everyone is reacting and demanding your (re)action.
“Project your highest, join an eco-village, say “loving” things.”
But being charged doesn’t mean we must join.
We don’t have to be swept into the snowball of it all.
The grand consciousness is not separate from us. And it emerges through our bodies. It guides, it pulls, it has us shift our tracks — almost always when it’s inconvenient. That’s not something you can put on your to-do list.

And sensitivity — your sensitivity — is a tool.
Aside from tuning into what everyone needs, it’s a way to feel into your needs,
your states, your archetypes, your wave of experience.
And to the inner compass that’s connected to the larger mind.

Forget the talking heads —
whether mainstream or niche.
Forget the performance of forgiveness, of smiling, of affirmations and visualisation.
I don’t feel that way.
So I’m not doing any of that.

I live by the beat of my own drum. My authenticity carries the highest tone, because nothing outranks truth.
And that’s how I walk through this strange life —
authentically.

It’s OK to slow down — or stop entirely. To disconnect. To not know. To switch off the news.
And to say no.
To move slowly, ungracefully and awkwardly.
Or to not move at all.
To cry or rage for hours.
To not want to speak.
To disagree.
It’s ok to drop the dishes in the sink if you suddenly feel tears pushing themselves to your eyes as you’re washing up.
It’s ok to need more time.

Whatever it is you need — it’s OK.

You won’t have to ‘pay’ for having negative emotions. You will not delay your enlightenment if you’re not hammering out those gratitude lines.
The ‘higher’ energies need to be anchored through your body if you don’t want to end up losing your mind.
That’s the law that few understand.

Know that you don’t have to purge emotion via yoga or force it into positive mantras.
That kind of binary thinking — rampant in spiritual, self-development, even psychological circles —
is what’s burned us out.

It denies the slow, organic movement of real states.
It pathologises what just needs witnessing.

I prefer to think of inner states like weather.
Like seasons.
Ever-changing — but only when we stop trying to fix them.

The core of what I’m saying is this:

The way forward — the way that’s always worked best for me — is not letting the outside override the truth inside.

It’s not easy.
But finding space —
feeling into what’s here —
what moves through,
what arises spontaneously:
an image,
a sound,
a craving,
a dream,
a pull towards some strange interest —
weaving, knitting, sewing —
it all counts.

Don’t dismiss it.
Don’t call it silly.
Get curious. It might be the very thing you need.
And no, you don't have to immediately turn it into a project.

It’s a passage.

And if your body wants nothing —
maybe that’s exactly what it needs.

Your body is conscious.
And sensitive people feel it more clearly.
That’s your tool.
Your weapon.
In these times of chaos, collapse, and burnout.

The body is in tune
with what you might not yet see.
But you can sense it.

And for me —
that is more than enough.

And as I hit publish and send this text out to you, I will blow the candle and put my shoes on, because I love Summer.
I will take my Winter out on a walk in the sun. We’ll sit on the bench, listen to the trees rustling out their hypnotic song. And then, on our way back, I’ll buy some first of the season plums on the market. I hope that they’re sweet by now.
You don’t have to stop everything, even in a pause. It’s ok to be in between for now.

(The above text is edited from a newsletter sent on 8.08.2025)

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