In a dream I had at some point during 2017, the year I tried to die, the words ‘East Grinstead’ appeared and remained in my consciousness when I’d woken up. I looked it up, never having heard of it, wondering did I know someone who lived there or had moved there and thus it had… Read More My adnexal mass and me (we don’t say cancer, we say ADNEXAL MASS)
So I started this blog in 2016 after I’d been for my first Ayahuasca retreat (three nights on the gooey jungle juice) and the shaman bird facilitating it asked me if I had one (a blog). I’d gone to the forest in Amsterdam for three days and nights on the occasion of my 35th birthday… Read More Praise be to plant medicine, skater freaks and Skin from Skunk Anansie’s wee dog
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be… Read More Elemental self-care: You are a motherfucking village, motherfucker
We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time TS Eliot When I attended a talk last year by a shamanic practitioner sharing his experience of mental illness symptoms sometimes being indicative of a kind of (painful) awakening to one’s true… Read More Are you mentally ill or are you waking up?
When you wake up in the mornin’, baby, look inside your mirror You know I won’t be next to you, you know I won’t be near I’d just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear As someone who has had you on his mind A beautiful soul in my life who… Read More Music, massage and man’s best friend: my current ways to mental wellness
You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off,… Read More The Egg by Andy Weir, aka The Meaning of Life
I always remember a friend arriving back in London after two weeks traversing Scotland in a camper van, figuratively stoned on the power of the slowing down that had happened to her during the trip. When your mind already runs a million miles a minute, being in a city like the UK capital obviously isn’t… Read More Into The Wild yes, but I draw the line at killing a chicken
‘Did you see his man bag? You don’t get many of them in Omagh. Fabulous taste in clothes.’ – my mum on my psychiatrist I’d mainly encountered psychiatrists in a professional capacity until this Summer when I got one of my very own, after the proverbial wheels came a bit off and primary care services… Read More That boy needs therapy (Ranagazoo, let’s have a tune)
First thing’s first: that word, cailíní, is an Irish one and it means women (or girls – I mainly remember it from Gaelic classes at my female-only school when the teacher was telling us to shut the f**k up and listen). So Cailíní Secret refers to the secrets of Irish women, as sourced and compiled by fellow… Read More Cailíní Secret: No One Is Alone In What They Feel
Finsbury Park Death Cafe happens every month at Blighty Cafe on Blackstock Road, lovely wee gaff. I first went last December, again in January and this month, December again. I met Santiago at the January one and pretty much instantly we were best friends. We’ve since become a bit more so it was nice to go… Read More Santiago, el Death Cafe and shaking like a dog during firework season
Relaja la Raja 