Author: vienda

  • my european summer carry-on top 10

    ☀ a list of the most excellent, wonderful and important things that I take with me on summer trips incl. the pièce de résistance which is obviously what I am reading this summer.

    The Carry-On Bag. If you’ve ever sweated the excruciatingly tight baggage allowance of cheap inter-euro flights then you know how annoying it is to find a bag that is just the right size with plenty of space for all the things. Last year after my favourite leather backpack found its mortal end I had to find something to replace it and I dare venture that I did find the perfect and sacrificially practical replacement. The Borderlite Travel Underseat Cabin Approved Backpack in blue has become my saving grace. The front pocket even fits my notebooks, laptop and pens, so my mobile office is always with me.

    ☀

    The Sunscreen. When I told a friend of mine that I don’t believe in sunscreen except for at times like when I was getting burned in the shade in Africa she said “You don’t believe in the science about sunscreen?” and I replied hooking my fingers into air quotes when I said the word science “No, I don’t believe in the “science” which is paid for by marketing companies.” Sun = quite literally life. You just have to know how to use it respectfully. I always have a hat with me in case I feel those rays are a bit too strong, and sometimes when I need it, I use physical mineral sunscreen. My favourite is Everybody Loves the Sunshine Zinc Beach Balm. For rushed moments I also have a Sun Bum stick in my bag at all times.

    ☀

    The Makeup. The beauty of summer is that bronzed skin, glowing eyes and flushed cheeks don’t require any additions. But for a bit more fun I think a slick of mascara or rouge on the lips is all that is needed. I’ve mentioned my favourites in my ‘love list’ here.

    ☀

    The Headphones. Alongside my boring old original wired headphones that need an adaptor to plug into any new Apple phone, I have my beloved Sennheiser Momentum 2 Wireless Over-Ear Headphones in White. I bought them as a gift to myself years ago and they are still one of my most beloved and cherished purchases. The sound quality is schmick as my DJ friends say and I love that they have noise cancellation. Here’s the more recent version of the Sennheiser Momentum in white.

    ☀

    The Toothbrush. My electric Oral B is on its last legs and the things that annoy me the most about it are that it requires constant charging and the charging unit is big and bulky. I do love that electric-toothbrush-only squeaky clean feeling though. So when a friend recommended this £10 alternative whose charge lasts a whole 30 days and can be charged in any USB charging unit I had to try it. The sensation, if you’re accustomed to the circular movement of more traditional electric toothbrushes, is weird at first but it does leave my teeth feeling just as, if not more clean, and I have come to love this toothbrush.

    ☀

    The Deodorant. I will never stop raving about this deodorant because it is both very natural and very effective and I only have to put it on every 4-ish or so days which I love even more and a tube lasts me about a year. It smells like nothing (?) until it starts to wear off and then you smell like you again instead of nothing. Essentially I think it’s the silver in the product that neutralises any smells and I am here for it. I bought a family pack after my first discovery four years ago, gave one tube away to a friend who also can’t stop raving about it now, and I still have two tubes left. I never ever ever want to be without it. The best deodorant.

    ☀

    The Dress(es). Due to a delicate nervous system, I get decision fatigue easily and so what works for me is packing no more than 5 options. My dresses currently in circulation are all from Rouje, Faihtful The Lable, Auguste The Label and Reformation, all bought pre-loved. I’ve written before about what is inside my closet as well as my ultimate guide for preloved online shopping.

    ☀

    The Bikinis. As above, all my bikinis are treasures from Hunza G, Rouje, Spell & The Gypsy Collective, and Faithful The Label that I have virtually unearthed from others’ discard piles.

    ☀

    The Towel. I love a Turkish towel, a light and simple piece of linen to sit on on the beach or by the pool. The one I have now I bought from a street-seller in South Africa so I have no links to that one but maybe when you go on some travels of your own you will find one.

    ☀

    The Books. Ahhh, the pièce de rÊsistance is obviously what I am reading this summer. My current selection is:

    It’s just come to my awareness that I haven’t written a ‘favourites’ book line-up since this one from the summer of 2021. Do you think it’s time for an update? Let me know in the comments below.

  • a letter to my dead father

    There’s a new wisdom in me now. A patience I’ve not known before. I’m no longer forcing the future into being.

    “Your Papa, is he ok?” she falters, the words fragmented in her French accent.

    “Se morte, he’s dead,” I reply, hoping my Spanish-to-French translation makes sense.

    “Oui, I know but, ah…” looking for words she does not have in a language unfamiliar to her.

    I nodded. She wanted me to look into my relationship with him, to check in with him across the cosmic ether between the living and the dead.

    It was my fourth day in the South of France in a villa tucked in the mountains behind Nice.

    The bodywork this healer had just given me felt mostly energetic, subtly infused in long repetitive strokes across my naked body, loosening and wakening the tight parts, the coiled inside themselves parts, the parts that had hardened to protect me from life’s rough edges.

    ☞

    This morning, I found myself back in the U.K. – a land so dreary and cold, even in the heart of July, that I’ve christened it ‘Mordor’. The irony isn’t lost on me.

    I reached for my journal.

    First, I immersed myself in the celestial dance, jotting down notes on the week’s astrological forecast. Then, with a deep breath, I turned to a fresh page.

    And there, in the quiet of the morning, I began to write to my father. Words flowed, bridging the gap between worlds.

    “Ciao, Papa.” I began…

    Though my pen hasn’t formed words for him in years, his presence lingers, a constant whisper in the air around me. In quiet moments, I find myself reaching out, seeking his guidance. His spirit, a silent partner in my decision-making, a comforting presence I turn to in times of need.

    Tears blurred my vision as I wrote, a familiar ache settling in my chest. The weight of a lifetime unshared pressed down on me, heavy with missed opportunities. A flicker of resentment burned towards my mother, whose actions had carved a chasm between us.

    I often found myself wondering if more time together might have changed everything. Perhaps he wouldn’t have met his fate, alone, navigating that serpentine mountain road in Sardinia, when I was just a ten-year-old girl, worlds away.

    I poured my heart onto the page – my musings, aspirations, and visions for the future. Then, pen hovering, I asked if he had any wisdom to impart or requests to make. Closing my eyes, I let the stillness envelop me, waiting for that familiar whisper of inspiration.

    Suddenly, words flowed through me, as if my hand had a mind of its own:

    You and your dreams are important and valid. Don’t minimise or downplay them because they are unlike those of the majority. You are carving out a new way for people with your essence and Being. I am always here. Helping and guiding you.

    ☞

    Those five sun-soaked days already feel like a distant dream. I can still feel the warmth deepening the brown of my skin, taste the juice of ripe summer fruits – peaches, cherries, melons – running down my chin. Those five days in southern France with my surrogate family awakened something primal in me. A reminder of my Mediterranean soul, forever tethered to sun and sea.

    Yet, duty calls me back to this grey land, for now.

    It’s curious, though. After being caught in a karmic whirlpool the past few years that stripped away my old self, I’ve emerged with remarkable clarity. The path ahead shimmers with possibility, my motivation and inspiration at an all-time high.

    There’s a new wisdom in me now. A patience I’ve not known before. I’m no longer forcing the future into being. Instead — I’m engaged in a delicate dance with destiny — part trust, part inspired action.

    The rest of this year is going to be filled with miracles. I can feel it.

    They’re waiting in the wings, ready to unfold.

  • enough

    my life of “it’s enough” instead of “I want more”

    We’ve swallowed the lie whole. It’s in our bones now.

    Our egos have been programmed into the structure.

    This relentless pursuit of more. Always more. Your benchmark keeps changing. You never reach the finish line. The wanting never ends.

    In this capitalist world that constantly whispers “more, more, more”, standing still and saying “I have enough” feels like a rebellion. A quiet revolution of the soul.

    At a party given by a billionaire on Shelter Island, Kurt Vonnegut informs his pal, Joseph Heller, that their host, a hedge fund manager, had made more money in a single day than Heller had earned from his wildly popular novel Catch-22 over its whole history.

    Heller responds, “Yes, but I have something he will never have — enough.”

    enough kms/steps walked

    enough friendships

    enough discipline

    enough money

    enough clothes

    enough love

    enough joy

    enough

    There is a certain magic in embracing enough.

    It’s the moment you stop struggling against the current and simply float. Suddenly, you realise the river’s been carrying you all along.

    As we meet mid-year, I’m learning to trust in the existing abundance.

    I’m tuning into the rhythm of sufficiency that beats in every cell of my body. It’s a gentle pulse that says, “You are enough. You have enough. This moment is enough.”

    In the soft light of dawn, in the quiet moments between breaths, in the space between thoughts — that’s where I’m finding my enough. It’s not a destination, but a way of being — a lens through which to view the world.

    A life of abundance disguised as simplicity. A life of richness measured not in things, but in moments. A life of recognising that the cup isn’t half full or half empty – it’s overflowing, if only we have eyes to see it.

    In this noisy world that’s always clamouring for more, let’s be the ones who dare to whisper “enough”. Let’s be the ones who find infinity in a grain of sand, and eternity in a wildflower.

    Because when we know we are enough, we have enough, we do enough – that’s when we truly begin to live.

    A THOUGHT EXERCISE:

    Make a practice of writing your list of enough.

    Not could it be 10x better – but does it feel in your heart like enough?

    * Family — Enough

    * Friends — Enough

    * Home — Enough

    * Work — Enough

    * Partner — Enough

    * Mentors — Enough

    * Memories — Enough

    * Blessings — Enough

    * Recognition — Enough

    * Opportunities — Enough

    * Financial independence — Enough

  • it’s easy to be happy

    who am I when I am just looping in this endless existential crisis where I’m not sure what is real and what I want to pursue anymore

    Do you want to do the talking?

    Ok. I reply moving in front of her and approaching the door manned by four people with two clipboards between them.

    We’re just crossing names off the list, one of them tells us.

    Actually, we aren’t on the list. I smile.

    I am a terrible liar but excel at making the truth really fun and compelling

    We were in our flat up there. I point at the top floor of a set of late Victorian-era mansion blocks overlooking where we are standing. And we saw the party and heard the band playing and decided to invite ourselves.

    That’s a good one! One of them laughed in response.

    The four gathered and discussed options. Finally one looks up questioningly at his compadres, Ross left two tickets at the door for her friends but we don’t think they’re coming maybe you can have them.

    I know Ross! Marina exclaims.

    Yeah, sure wink wink! Someone replies laughing. No really! She is my neighbour!

    At this point, we’re both cracking up at how absurd it all is – two adult women attempting to crash a party. Ok, well make sure you go for a swim, they accede. We will, we brought our bikinis! I reply with a grin. We all laughed and were ushered into the Lido summer party.

    We stripped into bikinis by the pool and saunaed and cold plunged and saunaed and cold plunged again until they closed the pool and got dressed and watched the live jazz and funk band and drank cheap cold white wine out of little plastic cups and danced.

    It’s easy to be happy, now. I turn to Marina. I just need more of this in my life. More spontaneity, more risk, more playfulness, less rigidity.

    A few hours earlier we had been lounging on her sofa overlooking the Lido in which party we were now enmeshed into talking about the happiest times in our lives and how things felt different now.

    I’m fine. Everything is fine. I have incredible friendships, I have enough money and a nice place to live. Fresh food local food is abundant. I actively count my blessings and choose to see the beauty of life. But I don’t feel that euphoric feeling of love and joy and excitement for life like I used to. And that makes me sad. And maybe I am a little depressed. But mostly I feel like I am just looping in this endless existential crisis where I’m not sure what is real and what I want to pursue anymore.

    I have had so many moments in the past couple of years crushed by a distinct wave of lack of ambition that sucks the oxygen out of my lungs and makes me wonder what I am doing. The flavour of this feeling is akin to my burnout climax in 2022/23 but I am starting to realise I am not burned out by my work but by the accelerating demands of the modern Western world.

    In this incredibly dystopian version of capitalism we are being told more is better. We’re told to push harder, to take as much as we can from anything and anyone to get ahead. No wonder we’re left feeling lost. Deep down, this isn’t who we are as humans. We’re not built to be endless consumption machines.

    Let’s have a reality check.

    This “take take take” approach comes from LACK, not ABUNDANCE. It is a lack of resources. It’s a lack of abundance. The system we live in which is ‘growth at all costs’ is the antithesis of abundance.

    A personal reality check.

    Until 2020, I’d skillfully sidestepped this reality. Stranded in the UK after my life in Mexico, I found myself sliding down a slippery slope of overwork. The rush of financial success was intoxicating, and with little else to occupy me, I dove in headfirst.

    Because what else was I to do and honestly, the taste of financial success and public validation and money flowing in so readily was addictive and fun, and what else was there to do?

    And there I lost myself…

    In that spontaneous pool party, we crashed, surrounded by strangers who quickly became friends, I rediscovered it. That spark was right there, effortlessly within reach. Life’s magic reveals itself in these kismet unplanned moments, when the future feels ripe with possibility and human connections bloom unexpectedly.

    As the last notes from the jazz band faded, the lead guitarist approached us. I love your energy! he grinned. You brought this party to life with your dancing!

    We giggled, confessing our impromptu adventure: watching from a high-up flat, deciding to crash the event, sweet-talking our way past the door.

    I knew I liked you before, he laughed, but now I love you.

    Abundance has a language and it’s not money. It’s relationships, health, experiences, and depth… because what we want at the depths of our souls is to be humbled.

    We are drawn to experiences that humble us because they remind us of a profound truth: we are already complete. Embracing this completeness – recognising that we have, do, and are ENOUGH — is a radical act.

    A quiet rebellion against a world that constantly tells us we need more.

    Beneath the surface, there’s a deeper loss and longing — a profound ache — that no new job or shiny purchase could ever soothe.

    What we truly crave is a foundation that is steadfast and real. We are looking for substance. We are looking for something we can place our feet on that won’t fall away.

    We all have these big existential fears because we are terrified of failing at life. So we protect ourselves by contracting, fitting in, grabbing more, and trying harder.

    These past few days, I’ve been retracing the steps that brought me to this trajectory of my life.

    I do not like it here.

    I find myself ensnared in the relentless machinery of Western capitalism, a system that’s stealthily invaded even the havens I once sought refuge in.

    I feel uneasy existing in a world over-saturated with screens and social media. As someone who was once eager to vulnerably share myself without hesitation, I have begun to feel the burden of strangers’ unflinching projections and expectations.

    What’s more, I have had to come to grips with the ephemeral nature of my digital presence.

    Every word I’ve penned online hangs by a thread, at the mercy of faceless corporations. At any moment, they could wipe away my work and art, erasing years of my life with a simple keystroke.

    I have returned to the value of physical spaces that must be balanced with a career built on a digital footprint.

    At this juncture, I return to a few simple questions:

    What makes me come alive?

    What brings me joy?

    What do I live for?

    The answers come readily. They are simple and easy.

    Unexpectedly, the benchmark does not keep changing. What I want is less rather than more.

    But they do not fit into my society’s deemed trajectory of a ‘happy’ and ‘fulfilling’ traditional life path. That’s challenging for me, sometimes.

    There exists within me a very human part that yearns for social acceptance and validation. On some level, I still fear rejection from the tribe. A tribe I have disowned many times before.

  • life > screens; + boundary tips

    how I taught myself to have boundaries with screen time to reclaim my life

    I am sitting on my bed in my cabin, a cup of tea balanced on my plannher beside me, my cat Danger Zone nuzzled onto my right arm hindering access to the keys as I tap these words to you. I’ve had a morning of private clients on Zoom, was on Instagram, in the name of marketing and now am writing you an email. A delightful form of intimate connection tapped out via Substack.

    Everything I have done so far today has happened on screens.

    In retrospect, we see what this journey of life really is.

    What it was made up of.

    In retrospect, we see that our whole life is made up of choices, one after another, in the name of love and connection.

    Self-employment is an incredible privilege. I started on this path because I instinctively refused to join the 9-5 grind. It can also be incredibly overwhelming and (very) lonely. Little did I know that a few years along my work would end up being mostly behind a screen.

    I work about 20-25 hours weekly in and on my businesses.

    Every single one of those hours is spent on a screen.

    One thing I don’t want is to look back and regret how much time I spent on screens instead of existing in the living, breathing world around me.

    Technology is wonderful in so many ways. It offers me a way to contribute to society that is both meaningful and creative, on my terms. My life is (mostly) my own with the efficient ease of having communication, connection and organisation tools housed in a magical cloud in the sky.

    I spend an average of 4-6 hours on screens per day. That includes using meditation apps, music apps, map apps, banking apps, notes apps, workout platforms and apps that help me in my business.

    But if I’m honest, much of that time is spent on Instagram, WhatsApp, and search engines.

    Yet.

    Many of us strongly desire to withdraw from the outward-facing parts of life… hence the move away from screens and social media. It’s about reconnecting inwards. Allowing ourselves to feel what wants to come through us. This means that we’re no longer focused on the external noise but rather on the internal guidance.

    But the world that we exist in does not allow this descent. Going inwards requires slowing down.

    Slowing down is very hard in a world built on fast consumption.

    It is incredibly rebellious to slow down in this world and yet… this is the only way the only place where we can find ourselves. To reconnect to those parts of ourselves that are yearning to be heard. That is here with us, beside us every step of the way; that we often remain disconnected from.

    We take those moments in, in tiny sips but never fully bitten into, absorbed, inhaled, made use of. This richness and depth that is available to us all the time is accessible only through slowing down.

    But screens.

    They blink and flash and move fast and catch our eyes. They elevate our adrenaline, activate our dopamine and make us think that life is supposed to feel extremely exciting all the time. They impact our circadian rhythms and stop us from sleeping well and deeply resting when we need to. They suck us into a spiral of trying to keep up with ‘fast and now and more’.

    When what we really seeking is love and connection.

    Here is how I taught myself to have boundaries with screen time to reclaim my life.

    1. I fill conceivable screen time with a different form of connection. I make it a priority to spend time with friends, go out in nature, read books, cuddle my cat, go to gigs and events with other living breathing humans, travel, paint, draw, dream and journal. It’s so easy in moments of loneliness to get on a screen and spiral. I ensure that I have enough heart-nourishing things happening in my life that I don’t have to.
    2. I have a phone-free morning routine. It’s so easy to pick up my phone first thing when I first wake up. Just in case someone I love got in touch! I often think to myself. But the ripple effect of putting a device before my human self is palpable throughout the day. Instead, I leave my phone where it is in another space or room, and spend the first half an hour at least, waking up, stretching, taking my retainers out, scraping my tongue, making warm water with lemon, doing a little lymphatic drainage massage or a meditation, before I go anywhere near that thing.
    3. I have a phone-free evening routine. I am very strict with myself on this one because it’s easy to get devoured into a sea of I’ll just look up this one last thing, when I am tired in the evenings. Instead, I place my phone on aeroplane mode, put it to charge as far from reach as possible and spend half an hour to an hour alone with just myself and my thoughts.
    4. I use an app to monitor screen time. I use and recommend Opal, which I love both aesthetically and because it seems to kick me off whatever app I am using at just the right time as if it can sense when I’ve been overdoing it. It is crazy to me how lost I can get in the void of apps and on-screen productivity. These things were supposed to give us more time and ultimately they are stealing our time unless we reclaim it.
    5. I consistently delete certain apps. Instagram in particular, because it’s my strongest draw to get lost in. Even if just for a few days, but sometimes for weeks or more, what a relief it is for that app to disappear from my phone. Every few weeks I go through my phone and cull apps: ones I rarely use and ones I use too much and need a break from.
    6. I minimise my ‘follow’ list. A sure way to stop myself from scrolling is running out of things to scroll so I maintain a very small list that is focused only on necessary work-related connections, friends I can only connect with in this way, and accounts that inspire me to be a better human.
    7. I set limits on how much time I spend on screens. One of my highest values is presence. Something that I practice in every area of my life. If I am on a screen — unless I am with a client, writing, answering emails, or designing a new project — I am not present. I have a strong pact with myself to keep my phone tucked away when I am with other people. I try to have certain windows during which I use social media. I take photos in moments and believe that not everything needs to be documented.
    8. I intentionally cultivate a life that is more than screens. I leave my phone behind whenever I can. I put my phone in inconvenient places so I can focus on the task at hand. I spend time in parts of the world that don’t have an internet connection. I find peace there. It’s not perfect. It’s a work in progress. Eventually, I would love to exist in a way where I am not using my phone more than a few hours per day. And sometimes not at all for stretches of days and weeks. Right here and now that’s not entirely possible. I am doing my best.

    These implementations are probably things you’ve already heard of. They’re not mind-blowing or new. But doing them is a whole other story. They require self-control, structure, boundaries and communicating with your people when you are available and when you are not.

    Research can’t keep up with the pace of technological innovation. And being human is pretty complex. But what we do know is how spending time on screens makes each of us feel.

    I know that when I hit my limit my body starts to feel ungrounded and anxious. That limit is around 4-5 hours. When I have boundaries on my screen time, I benefit from more joy, more creativity, more positive thoughts and more real-life human connections.

  • your ultimate guide for preloved online shopping

    This easy step-by-step guide will teach you how to find real treasures and unique styles you’ll love for years to come for a fraction of the cost by thrifting online like a pro.

    The last time it happened I was crossing the road in Hove and a cute, little elderly lady (maybe in her mid-sixties?) rushed over to me.

    “I love your dress! Where is it from? It fits you so perfectly!”

    “Thank you! It’s from a French brand called Rouje, but I bought it preloved online.”

    It was a recent purchase (shown above) made in pressing haste for summer to arrive by finding summer dresses before it was warm enough to wear them.

    “I’ve still got good legs, I think I could pull something like that off!”

    “I bet you do!”

    I laughed swinging my long legs and curvy hips down the street filled with gleeful joy after our encounter. There’s nothing I love more than getting stopped in the street and being told that they love my outfit. I am a Leo Sun after all.

    Something that surprises me, due to the comprehensive gravitas of professional online fashion influencers, is how often I receive emails, messages, voice notes and comments about my clothes and style.

    I love using clothing to express myself; a daily creative ritual that I do for myself. That you appreciate it too always astounds me.

    Especially since — as I repeatedly say whenever anyone asks me where something that I wear is from — everything I own is either old or secondhand.

    This is always followed up with another question…

    How do you find those clothes?

    Today I am transmitting my step-by-step process on exactly how. But let’s begin with why.

    The last time I shared on this topic I wrote: inside my closet, a 7-step written discussion on sustainably curating the wardrobe of your dreams.

     

    I have always tried to live life in a resourceful way. One thing we all know for sure is that more stuff doesn’t bring us more happiness. In reverse, it often brings us more stress and overwhelm.

    The trick is to find that perfect balance of enough.

    How much of the things you need is the right amount? What is enough?

    I’m always thinking of ways that I can minimise my impact on the world while maximising my pleasure and enjoyment. Whenever I look in shops or malls (which is increasingly rare) I instantly feel completely dazed by the amount of stuff there is in the world.

    Do we need all of this? And who buys it?

    A few years ago I decided that one of the ways I could stop adding more stuff to the world was by buying clothes, a creative expression which I love and have no intention of giving up, that already exist.

    As someone who prefers to shop online (no crowds! no harsh lighting! no driving somewhere I don’t want to be!) over the years, I’ve honed my skills in what to buy, how, and from where.

    So here’s your ultimate guide…

    WHERE

    Depending on your location, where to shop online varies. My personal favourite is Vinted but Depop would be a close second if I could be bothered looking elsewhere. One app is enough for me. For an exhaustive worldwide list of the 47 best online places to shop secondhand check out this article bythegoodgoodgood.co.

     

    WHAT

    KNOW YOURSELF

    Firstly, you need to know:

    • your body shape
    • what suits you
    • what styles you like, and
    • your size in various brands

    There’s only one way to do that. Examining yourself and reflecting on who you are, your lifestyle and what you are attracted to plus trial and error.

    A great place to get a sense of your personal style is to start a Pinterest board where you start pinning things you like on other people who have a similar body shape, size, lifestyle and clothing style to the one you have. Maybe start following a few ‘influencers’ and pay attention to the brands they sling, the shapes they wear and how clothes fit on their body to get an idea of what you are looking for.

    That way you always have a moodboard to refer to when deciding to add to or update your wardrobe.

    While we are always going to be seduced by aspirational impulses make sure that you are looking at buying clothes that match the life you live today, not the life you think you might live one day. If you’re a busy mum or self-employed, it’s highly unlikely that you will be living in cocktail dresses or beach coverups.

    What is the perfect proportion of practical and beautiful, for you?

     

    KNOW YOUR BRANDS

    Every brand has its own set of tailoring, cuts, styles, colourways and sizes that are unique to each one. The better you know the brands you like the better choices you can make. This takes some detective work.

    Firstly, by knowing yourself and seeing which brands match your personal style. Secondly, getting to know the brand(s) by trialling some of their pieces. Fortunately, online thrifting makes this much easier as the risk and cost of something not working for you is much lower, and you can always resell it if it’s not for you.

    Once you have a clear understanding of what your favourite brands are, online secondhand shopping becomes fun and easy because you can go for brands you know and like.

     

    BE SPECIFIC

    The more you know what you like and the more specific you are in your searches the more successful you will be. This means using filters.

    I always filter for my size (S) but sometimes like things to be oversized (like woollen jumpers and coats) and include the next size up (M). If I am not searching by brand which I mostly do to alleviate overwhelm and for quality control, I also filter for material with a preference for 100% natural fabrics such as cotton, linen, silk, cashmere and so on.

    Recently, inspired by the all-white outfit worn by the lead singer of La Luz whom I saw on the weekend at a festival. I searched for a “white collared shirt women S” and included the filters “cotton” and “good condition”. A lot of Zara options came up which isn’t the worst, and often at half the price or less than in-store.

    the lead singer of La Luz whose entire outfit inspired me so much that I desperately want to replicate it

     

    HOW

    SEARCH BY BRAND

    This is always the best way to start.

    Look up your favourite brands, put in your filters, and then bookmark the search to come back to from time to time, whenever you’re in the mood for a bit of online thrifting.

    I go through phases. Sometimes, when I have a specific gap in my wardrobe or am feeling inspired (see above) I’ll go in to search a few times a week. Other times, I’ll go weeks or months without opening the app (Vinted) because I just don’t need anything.

    Lately, I have been helping a friend update her wardrobe so I am searching for specific things that I think would suit her and am in there searching at least once per week. Her scope was “I need everything” which is a carte blanche for me to have fun finding whatever I think would look good on her.

    To me, this is the best job and one I sincerely wish I could get paid to do because I love the process of finding the perfect items at the best prices so much.

     

    MAKE A FAVOURITES LIST

    As you find pieces you like (or love) ‘heart’ them to add to your favourite list. As you look for items try to think about what you need and how the things you are looking for could work together with what you already have and for different occasions. This list is where the pieces you are thinking about buying can rest until you make your decision.

     

    TRUST THE PROCESS

    Be willing to take the occasional fashion risk especially if you have a strong hut (heart+gut) feeling about a piece. You can always resell it again. Don’t buy in urgency unless it’s something you’ve been looking for for a while and you know you are ready to commit and don’t want someone else snapping it up. Try to sleep on purchases before making them in haste and let go of things if they don’t work out i.e. are no longer available or not at the price that meets your budget. I believe if something is meant for you, it will be yours. If not, it’s not.

     

    HAGGLE ACCORDINGLY

    Make sure that you know the value of things, and offer a price that feels right to you in your hut (heart+gut). It’s always worth going a bit lower than the asking price.

    Keep in mind that insurance and shipping are added on top so barter accordingly. I often deduct the £5 it’s going to cost me for postage from my offer. Sometimes I even try bidding at the lowest possible price if I am uncertain about the quality or fit of something but want to try it.

    Don’t buy things because they’re cheap; make sure you know they are good quality first and foremost. Otherwise, you’ll end up with things that you don’t want or use that end up in a landfill which is precisely what we are trying to avoid by thrifting online in the first place.

     

    ENJOY THE PROCESS

    It’s like treasure hunting from the comfort of your sofa/bed/hammock/favourite garden and treasure hunting is always fun! Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, be experimental, and keep an eye out for special pieces. You never know what gems you’ll discover.

  • and just like that…

    I became a caregiver to 2 small boys.

    Wilted flowers, sticks and stones of varying sizes in pockets. Tiny, sticky fingers reaching for hands, arms, shoulders, legs, anything to hold on to. Miniature toy cars, dried-up mandarin peel, a collection of leaves in my woven basket. The backseat covered in a small display of muddy prints and lost pebbles.

    Those are the symbols of my last few weeks.

    Fleeting fragments of enchantments that materialise as dirt and mess to the unobservant conjured up from the imaginations of a 2 and 4-year-old.

    Parts of my brain, formerly dormant, have been activated to sense threats and dangers, perceive needs and triggers, and either coax or soothe in response to each one. I fall into bed, heavy with fatigue two days per week, with nothing left to give.

    It’s a satisfying feeling, to be at the mercy of two small, demanding bodies that require every moment of your attention in a forcefully present way.

    I’m not sure how it happened. Without a doubt, kismet was at hand.

    One day their mother and I were dreaming over a matcha laughing about how fun it would be to live next door to each other, the next, that’s exactly what we were doing.

    For the past three years, I have lamented how strange our modern silo lives are, often disconnected from real community, operating in isolation from one another.

    This was not my reality until recently. When I stopped travelling and endeavoured to stay still in developed countries. Not really until I moved to Canada with my ex. Later amplified by the global pandemic.

    Now, two days a week, plus a scattering here and there I have become, what my poet-friend calls an ‘alloparent’.

    We don’t know how long it will last. It’s an arrangement to revisit based on the shifting sands of life and time after summer. But for now, it’s perfect.

    I’m enjoying exercising my maternal nature.

    One of the boys is highly sensitive, quick to be acitivated and slow to be soothed. He responds the best to a range of trust-building practises with patience and consistency and lots of reassurance through physical touch and words.

    I’m enjoying applying human development tools that I have learned, teach and use across the decade of my career in such a real way. Nervous system co-regulation and attachment style approaches are incredibly useful in daily moments.

    My relationship with time has shifted. I have both not enough and more than enough concurrently. My work days and hours have taken on a different feeling.

    The creativity and impetus that normally flows feels more forced at the moment. I assume this will shift once I find my way with this new iteration of life.

    I admire all fulltime caregivers that attempt to have a creative life or career alongside childrearing.

    Children take up some much of your physical and mental real estate.

    They’re also incredibly healing.

    So many parents I speak to relish the chance to give to their children in the ways that they weren’t met as children. Healing their own inner child by giving what was once needed.

    Sometimes I wish more adults knew how important it is to do that work with ourselves first. If we all took the responsibility to reparent ourselves before we reach out to parent others there would be a lot more harmony in the world.

  • party girl era

    He was right. I felt like a fallen angel gracing the earth that night.

    Last night I traced the light fine lines that have settled under my eyes and remembered a time when I thought I’d be young forever.

    When time stretched out in front of me as a limitless expanse in which anything was possible. When I would wake up with dewy skin and never wash my face or use skin care or makeup unless I was going out-out.


    I don’t remember ever classifying myself as a party girl. I did not go out looking for parties. They actively came and found me and swept me off my feet. But I do remember being the only one of my friends in my Psych class who would come rolling into class on Monday still a little bit high from acid and mushrooms and ecstasy.

    Except for one of the few guys who took a Psych minor alongside a journalism major. He and I would share secret glances and smiles and pretend to pull triggers to our heads in a gesture that meant “kill me now”. We are still distant friends to this day, though I would have to look him up to remember his name.

    I was a good girl. I didn’t do drugs or get drunk. I was innocent and naive and just trying to figure out what on Earth I was supposed to be doing on this planet.


    Six months earlier I was working as a receptionist at a tiny film editing studio in London’s Soho. We mostly made ads for B&Q and other ads, that’s where we made our money. Like a men’s cologne that was directed by a famous director who would rack up so many lines of coke at every meeting during production that by the time the ad was done both he and the main actor were so bloated that they didn’t resemble themselves anymore.

    Every morning on my way into the office I would greet the transgender junkie that seemed to live in an empty access to an abandoned store as she flicked needles onto the ground nearby. My co-workers said it was mostly methadone because she couldn’t get heroin.

    I was young and without life experience and found it both scary and sad.

    That winter, cold and determined to do something different with my life, I decided to study Psychology in the hottest place I could find. I found a university in Far North Queensland, Australia, set in a small jungle edging the Great Barrier Reef. At the time I still had a permanent residency visa for Australia on account of my mother immigrating there when I was a child. I applied, was accepted, and booked a flight to begin my new life.

    My boyfriend at the time was a manager of a pub in Old Street. One where all the lawyers and barristers would go and get drunk after work. In the very pragmatic way that only teenagers can, we agreed to part ways when I left.


    I started my four-year degree committed and high-spirited. I would apply myself. I would study hard. I would complete and hand in my assignments early.

    One day my friend’s friend and his friend called me and asked if they could use my car park to sort out their car that had broken down. I said yes, of course, and was delighted by the excitement of young men and cars and who knows what might happen. One of those men asked me on a date and a week later we were a couple.

    Slowly I discovered that my new paramour was a bong-swilling pot-head which confused and unnerved me. Mostly, because it felt like there were always three people in our relationship. Him, me and weed.

    Later I discovered that this is a common trait amongst addicts.

    Substances take priority and create an impassable distance between vulnerability and intimacy. I could write a lot on intimacy, romantic love and substance abuse, but that’s a story for another time. Leave a comment below if you want to read it.

    I resisted and resented his habits but I was young and naive, had low self-worth and self-esteem and didn’t know that I could just walk away. So I stayed and tried to change him while he tried to change me.

    The first time, he convinced me to come to a secret party in the woods which in Australia they call a ‘bush doof’. He popped a magic mushroom in my mouth and I promptly went to sleep right there on a blanket on the ground. I had just finished a shift waitressing at a pizza restaurant on the beach and no amount of magic mushrooms or loud music could disrupt my 20-year-old self and a circadian rhythm that lives and dies by the sun.

    In the morning he asked me if I felt anything and I said “No, I was asleep.”

    The next time, it was my birthday. He gifted me a tiny white capsule filled with fluffy white powder that he said was called ‘MDMA’ and would make me feel amazing. There was a white party — which, as the name suggests means that everyone wears white — that Saturday night and had to take it there.

    That night I donned a white tube dress and slung a wide belt low on my hips (it was the mid-2000s) and a group of us drove in my boyfriend’s beat-up car to the party. Before we got out we all popped pills filled with white dust in our mouths and swished them down with water.

    Soon, I found myself floating, my feet not touching the ground from room to room of the candlelit, flower-bedecked white party, eyes the size of saucepans, an unmoving soft smile pasted to my face. He was right. It felt chemical. And it also felt amazing. I felt like a fallen angel gracing the earth that night.

    After that, I was no longer sceptical. I decided that some drugs, not all, but some were something I wanted to explore and discover more.

    Especially because I loved music and dancing but not drinking. I hated the ways I saw my girlfriends pour out of bars and clubs wasted, doing things that would ripple shame through them in the morning.

    But drugs were empowering. I felt in control, astute, aware of myself and safe.


    That summer, a year since I started my degree, and 6 months since I started seeing this man, we went on a road trip to go to some festivals. A convoy of hippies from the jungle travelled from the north to south of the country and back again in 2 months, working on farms to fund our travels and stopping at music festivals along the way.

    The first one we went to, one of our friends asked if I had tried acid. I shook my head, scared by the name but curious.

    “What’s it like?” I asked. “It’s unexplainable but it will give you a spiritual journey beyond your wildest imagination. The experience is unique to each person.” I was told. “You won’t like it,” my boyfriend told me.

    I walked up to the dirtiest man with dreadlocks so long they almost touched the ground and asked him if he had any acid. He looked at me surprised. “It’s my first time” I explained. He smiled and told me to hold out my hand face down and stretch my fingers so a little divot formed between my thumb and forefinger pulling out a tiny bottle with a dropper, dropping a drop of brown liquid in the hollow. “Now lick it,” he said. “And if things get weird, just remember that it’ll pass.”

    I went to the edge of the dance floor to wait and see what would happen.

    Later I found myself having danced for eight hours straight while having the most healing cosmic epiphanies and internal psychological healings and thought loops closing in such a way it felt like my entire world and life had been put right for the very first time.

    My boyfriend was wrong. I did like it. I liked it very much.


    Months later, back at university, during a neurobiology lecture my professor inadvertently confirmed my suspicion that not all psychoactive substances are created equal or necessarily bad for you and that there were ways to work with these substances that had a positive impact on the brain and human psyche.

    I wrote more about that in curioser and curioser.

    I had rules:

    • no alcohol
    • no buying drugs (I relied on generous gifts)
    • no going to parties with the intention to take drugs
    • no getting into a habit of taking them or feeling like I need them to have fun
    • no nightclubs or bars. I only went to outdoor parties in nature, a rule I broke 3-4 times

    For six years I experimented explored and tested my edges with various substances. I discovered what my limits were, what I could take and where those experiences could take me. I understood what worked together in little psychoactive chemical cocktails. I learned how to eat well to recover fast.

    And then, slowly at first and then all at once, I lost interest. My party girl era was over as another season of my life journey seduced me.

    I found that I could reach many similar states of expansion, insight, growth and healing through spiritual and self-awareness practices, self-attunement and alignment, and by working with energetics.

    It became so much more satisfying to be able to reach heightened states without the crutch of chemicals.

    Fun found in a different form I deeply treasure human connection in sobriety. I cherish the nuanced and delicate reading of energies that arise within interactions from moment to moment. Fragile whisps sensed through the air that I became sensitive to in my party girl era.

    Last night I looked at my face and wondered how it has changed between the era that led to another. Tracing freckles and lines I gave thanks for every moment that contributed to the memories imprinted in my skin softly starting to gather.

  • not yet

    So often doing things that we don’t feel ‘ready’ for can bring up unresolved childhood trauma. So often on the other side of that fear exist the things we want for ourselves.

    I’m sitting in Brighton’s Artist Residence looking out at the English Channel, frothy white foam on the tips of waves sparkling between mist and bursts of sun, and hot chocolate to accompany me on this journey of words with you.

    The past two weeks have been full in a way I cannot even begin to express and I need to honour this place I find myself.

    As Brene Brown wisely says “Share from the scar, not from the wound” and so I am giving myself grace in my writing to you and am answering a question from a reader today.

    A few months I wrote about all the things I had done when I was ‘not ready’.

    I noticed something interesting…

    The best things that have happened to me were the things I did when I wasn’t ready. The things that shook me and tore at me and made me feel the biggest feelings and pushed me and stretched me and scared me and lit a flame of hope in my heart and big dreams in my imagination…

    Being ready never arrives.

    But that doesn’t mean we chase discomfort as a sign to do what we are supposed to do. Sometimes coming up against our edge implies ‘not yet’.

    Challenging ourselves means growth.

    Overriding an inner refusal to move forward on something is an opportunity to pay attention. To bring curiosity to the situation.

    A reader, in response to ‘not ready’ wrote in.

    “This is so inspiring. And at the same time, it makes me wonder… How do you know when to push through resistance and when to listen to the body’s no?”

    Learning to listen to your body is the most valuable skill you can develop.

    Learning to discern the difference between “I am scared but willing to try something new” and “This is activating my nervous system to such a degree that I am going into a parasympathetic stress response” is vital.

    It starts by unlearning counterproductive, socially imposed beliefs about self-image, performance, success, productivity, approval, perfectionism, and control.

    Each of us contains, within our body and mind, an exquisite and personalised mind-body wisdom. This wisdom becomes more available to us as we recognize that anything we are feeling in our body means something.

    It’s so easy to get stuck in your head and tune out essential sensations; but, every butterfly in your stomach, every headache, tight muscle, surge of energy, and flood of emotion is there for a reason, providing gentle encouragement, danger signals, and constant feedback about what you need.

    For me, from years of practice, there is a palpable difference between “I am scared to move forward even though this thing is meant for me” and “I am going into flight or freeze around this thing” which stops me in my tracks.

    The body’s cues are soft and subtle.

    If we come from a background of having our feelings and needs disregarded either for cultural, societal or familial reasons we will have learned that that our feelings aren’t worth listening to. We had to ignore and override our feelings to survive in this world.

    Your first step to reclaiming your power is to recognise that it is no longer true for you. What you once adopted as a coping mechanism is no longer serving you. Allowing yourself to feel and trust your body now is part of the healing process.

    Fear of the unknown can trigger a primal instinct in us that makes us feel like our very livelihood is at risk. So often doing things that we don’t feel ‘ready’ for can bring up unresolved childhood trauma.

    So often on the other side of that fear exist the things we want for ourselves.

    The way forward then, is to address the fear and the trauma. To look at what part of you is resisting. For me, it is often a child version of me that did not have her needs met, was not seen or heard, did not feel safe.

    I immediately revert to that wounded child when faced with something insurmountable.

    “I need to acknowledge, feel and witness my feelings first” is her plea.

    In response, I care for her. I meet her needs. I listen and let her know that she is safe. I am sensitive to her feelings. Because she is me.

    Then, together we step forward and do things we are ‘not ready’ for. Because I have addressed the resistance which was my inner wounding saying ‘not yet’.

  • cycle girlie

    On metamorphosis and menstrual cycles and a magic little trick (a GIFT, for YOU!) to add the phases of your cycle to your calendar and sync to your work and life.

    As I woke up on Monday morning I found myself having transformed into a pile of mush. Heart, lungs, eyes, shin bones floating in goo.

    I wanted to concurrently crawl out of my skin, hide inside a shell, and for my life just to feel normal, as it does for a few glimpses from time to time.

    But that’s not the path I chose. I am not one to cling fondly to the past or go out of my way for things to stay the same. I body slam myself at every chance I get to evolve and then wonder innocently doe-eyed why my self and my life are changing again.

    A constant cycle of falling apart and coming together again, of losing my way and walking myself back home. Right alongside 8 billion other people like a knot of snakes shedding their skins over and over again.

    The nature of life is to metamorphose repeatedly.

    Except that the way humans do it is that we look marginally the same on the outside while turning into an existential puddle of goo on the inside until naturally, our insides restructure themselves and a new version, only slightly distinct but somehow also completely new remarkably walks around in the same body as before.

    Some of our internal metamorphoses take years. Sometimes we move from caterpillar to mush to butterfly in just one day. Midwifing ourselves through a process of existing, breaking, and re-creating. An endless cycle of reinvention.

    That’s what I woke up to on Monday morning.

    Then there are other cycles.

    As a woman, I have a monthly cycle where blood pools and then drips from between my legs. It is a metamorphosis of another kind.

    In my early twenties, I discovered a love for my monthly cycles. In my early thirties, I understood them.

    Desperate, ashamed, and stoic after ending an unwanted pregnancy with an abrupt and painful medical pill I was coerced into getting a copper IUD by my boyfriend and my doctor.

    For one and a half years I contended with painful periods, dissociation, spotting at odd times and constant brain fog.

    With despair and frustration, I researched and educated myself. Books upon books on women, family planning, menstrual cycles and birth control piled up on my bedside table.

    Until one day I had enough and knew enough and went to get it taken out.

    The doctor asked me “Are you sure you want it out?” with judgement in her tone.

    “Yes. It’s ruining my life.” I replied adamantly.

    “What are you planning to use for birth control instead?” Her eyebrows raised.

    “I’m going to track my cycle.” I smiled, confident that I knew how, angry that I did not know sooner, furious that this isn’t the first thing a woman is taught.

    “I think you should stick to the IUD” she leant back looking at me.

    “Do you even know how IUDs work?” I snarked back incredulously.

    “Well, they stop the sperm from entering the egg.”

    “How do they do that?”

    “We don’t know exactly how, we just know that it works.”

    I was burning inside.

    “We do know how. What happens is that you put a foreign object inside a woman’s most delicate parts that creates an inflammation inside her so great that it stops her from being able to conceive. Why do I know that, and you don’t?”

    A nurse was called over who took me to another room and removed the offensive item in minutes.

    The one book that taught me how to track my cervical fluid and temperature and the position of my cervix so I would only get pregnant if and when I wanted to was What Every Woman Needs to Know About Fertility: Your Guide to Fertility Awareness to Plan or Avoid Pregnancy.

    It still seems to be a taboo topic. Sources of information for books or details online are almost negligible. Like, wow, if women take full ownership over their bodies, all religious and corporate systems will cease to exist, global power structures will shift in some seismic way, and the entire world will collapse.

    If the world is that fragile, we have bigger issues at hand.

    Two other favourite books were “The Woman Code” and “In The Flo” by Alisa Vitti. Both books are about how to sync your life with your menstrual cycle to optimize your health, wellness, and your career.

    Running a woman-centric business as a woman, I was fascinated with the idea that I could structure my work around my inner cycles.

    Hungry for ways to sync my tasks with my cycle and energy levels I tried many apps including Flo and Kindara to integrate cycle awareness into managing my life but none of them fit my flow.

    I depend on my iCal calendar and my physical Plannher to organise and execute my work, life and days. So, with the help of a friend, I made up a calendar based on the tips of the two books.

    Today, I am going to share it with you.

    It’s customisable, so anyone can use it to sync their life with their menstrual cycle. This adds another layer of awareness to your cycle and helps you create a more balanced and harmonious relationship with your body in conjunction with your work life.

    Add the phases of your cycle to your calendar to sync with your work life.

    Here is what you do:

    • Go to your calendar. Create a new calendar by clicking the “+” sign and the “Create calendar” option. Name it something like “My Cycle.”
    • Download the calendar from this link. It is formatted .ics, so it will be easy to add to any calendar.
    • Open your calendar application. This could be Google Calendar, Apple Calendar, or any other calendar app that supports ICS imports.

     

    iCal/Apple Calendar does it automatically, Google Calendar, like this:

    • In Google Calendar, click “Settings” at the bottom of the side menu and then click on the “Import & export” tab.
    • Under “Import,” click “Select the file from your computer” and choose the ICS file you downloaded from this article. Select your new Google Calendar that you named “My cycle” or something similar.
    • Click “Import” to import the events from the ICS file into your selected calendar.

    FINALLY! Modify the first four event details to customize to YOUR OWN CYCLE!

    Menstrual information:

    1. Calculate the total of your cycle length and the total of each phase.

    2. Change the calendar in sync with your last menstruation date.

    3. Modify your cycle length in each event (the calendar standard is 28 days but my cycle length is more like 33 days).

    4. Edit each phase duration, and adapt it to your reality (make sure it doesn’t exceed the total length of your cycle)

    Enjoy!

    Vienda ♥

     

    P.S. An overview pulled from the books I recommended above:

    Menstrual Phase

    This is a time for rest and renewal. The main recommendations include:

    • Getting plenty of rest and sleep.
    • Avoiding intense physical exercise.
    • Eating nutrient-dense, warm, and comforting foods.
    • Drinking warm fluids, such as herbal teas, to promote circulation and hydration.
    • Taking magnesium supplements to reduce cramps and headaches.

    Professional recommendations:

    • Take time off if possible, or schedule light work or activities during this phase.
    • Use this time to reflect, plan, and set intentions for the upcoming cycle.
    • Practice self-care activities like taking a relaxing bath or receiving a massage.

    Nutrition and shopping list:

    • Focus on warm, comforting, and nutrient-dense foods such as soups, stews, and bone broth.
    • Incorporate iron-rich foods such as red meat, poultry, beans, and leafy greens to support blood loss during menstruation.
    • Shop for ingredients like grass-fed beef, dark leafy greens, lentils, and organic chicken or turkey.

     

    Follicular Phase

    This is a time for renewal and creativity. The main recommendations include:

    • Engaging in moderate physical exercise, such as walking, yoga, or dancing.
    • Eating light and fresh foods, such as salads and smoothies, to support detoxification.
    • Increasing intake of omega-3 fatty acids and other nutrients to support hormone production.
    • Practising creative activities, such as painting, writing, or singing.

    Professional recommendations:

    • Take on new projects or activities that require creativity and innovation.
    • Network and attend social events to build new connections.
    • Focus on professional development, such as attending workshops or taking courses.

    Nutrition:

    • Focus on fresh, light, and detoxifying foods such as green salads, smoothies, and juices.
    • Incorporate foods rich in vitamin B6, such as bananas, nuts, and seeds, to support hormone production.
    • Shop for ingredients like spinach, kale, avocados, chia seeds, and milk.

     

    Ovulatory Phase

    This is a time for connection and expression. The main recommendations include:

    • Engaging in more vigorous physical exercise, such as running or strength training.
    • Eating foods that support blood sugar balance, such as complex carbohydrates and proteins.
    • Practicing self-care and connecting with others.
    • Taking steps to reduce stress and promote relaxation.

    Professional recommendation:

    • Schedule important meetings or presentations during this phase, as communication skills and confidence are heightened.
    • Collaborate with others on projects and tasks.
    • Attend industry events and conferences to build professional connections.

    Nutrition and shopping list:

    • Focus on foods that support blood sugar balance, such as complex carbohydrates and proteins to promote sustained energy.
    • Incorporate foods rich in omega-3 fatty acids, such as salmon and walnuts, to support hormone production and reduce inflammation.
    • Shop for ingredients like sweet potatoes, quinoa, salmon, walnuts, and Greek yoghurt.

     

    Luteal Phase

    This is a time for reflection and preparation. The main recommendations include:

    • Engaging in gentle exercises, such as yoga or stretching
    • Eating foods that support hormonal balance, such as leafy greens, legumes, and healthy fats.
    • Reducing intake of caffeine, sugar, and alcohol to reduce PMS symptoms.
    • Practising self-care and stress management techniques.

    Professional recommendations:

    • Prioritize tasks and projects to ensure completion before the next cycle begins.
    • Use this phase for planning and organization, such as reviewing goals and making action plans.
    • Practice self-care activities and stress management techniques to reduce PMS symptoms and promote well-being.

    Nutrition and Shopping list:

    • Focus on foods that support hormonal balance, such as leafy greens, legumes, and healthy fats to reduce PMS symptoms.
    • Incorporate foods rich in magnesium, such as dark chocolate, nuts, and seeds, to reduce cramps and headaches.
    • Shop for ingredients like broccoli, chickpeas, pumpkin seeds, dark chocolate, and coconut oil.
  • I don’t care

    A life-long lesson on detachment as taught to me by an Indian guru when I was 12 years old and the story of my very first own grown-up friend.

    When I was 11 my mum dragged me to one of her ‘new age’ events.

    “New Age” was a movement that started in the late 1980s characterised by an emphasis on the holistic view of body and mind, alternative (or complementary) medicines, personal growth therapies, and a loose mix of theosophy, ecology, oriental mysticism, and a belief in the dawning of an astrological age of peace and harmony. Idk what we call that now but in my bubble it’s “mainstream”.

    From my childish memory, I can’t remember if she was at a weekend workshop to learn how to play gongs, if it was about Buddhism or neurolinguistic programming but what I do remember was that the lady who was hosting the event had a beautiful garden with fragrant Jasmine abundantly throwing itself off balconies and big purple flowers attached to vibrant green tendrils cascading onto the lawn.

    I remember a young woman french-braiding my hair during breaks and adorning each cross-section with tiny white Jasmin stars. I remember an elderly man who took a particular interest in me and in those two days taught me how to read palms after he read mine.

    He told me that I would never break a bone, run out of money, or lack in lovers. He was right.

    I lapped up the attention. Like all children I craved to be seen, heard, witnessed, and acknowledged but presence and attention were not something readily available in my household.

    Sometimes I try to remember why but all I remember was that my single mum was always too busy, too harried, and too stressed to notice me for long. Now I recognise that she was likely suffering from anxiety, amongst other things.

    So when this man came along — an adult who had time for me, who was interested in me, and wanted to talk to me about the world, and the future and the possibilities of life — I was enchanted.

    He was old, with white hair and deep lines that crinkled deeper when he smiled and introduced himself as Donald Ingram Smith. I used his full name every time I spoke of or to him from that day on.

    He was my very first own grown-up friend.

    In a past life, Donald told me, he was a famous reporter and travelled the world. Then, he became the ghostwriter, autobiographer and close associate of one of the world’s most recognised gurus, Krishnamurti.

    My mother allowed the friendship. She was charmed by his outward-facing success with dozens of book titles penned under his name and thought he would be a good influence for me.

    One day when I was 12 he invited me to go to a 7-day “new age” festival with him. Krishnamurti would be giving a talk and he thought I might like to listen to him speak. I gleefully begged my mum to go until she agreed.

    In my childish memory, I don’t remember much of the talk.

    I remember that the festival seemed huge with thousands of people everywhere. I remember the woman vomiting in the toilet, eyes bulging out of her head and croaking “What are you looking at?” as she caught my innocent stare. I remember sleeping in a tent by myself next to Donald’s tent and going to the Hare Krishna’s for most of our meals where food piled high, a four-course meal, on every plate. I remember meeting a boy a year older than me who took me to the circus tent, told me he liked me and planted a kiss on my astonished mouth. I remember being left to my own devices for much of the time and going to every dancing workshop that I could find while Donald went and did his grown-up things.

    On the last day of the festival when Krishnamurti gave his talk hundreds of people gathered under an enormous marquee and sat on the grass on top of sarongs and shawls everyone brought along. Donald Ingram Smith sat to my right and made sure I could see as Krishnamurti giggled and joked with his audience from where he sat cross-legged wrapped in a lungi on the stage.

    “Do you want to know my secret?” he asked.

    This is the only part of that talk I remember and have held close for all of my life.

    “I don’t care.”

    “I’ve no problem because I don’t mind what happens… I don’t mind if I fail or succeed, I don’t mind if I have money or not money… I have no problem because I don’t demand anything from anybody, or life. I wonder if you understand this…”

    “I don’t mind what happens.”

    “That is the essence of inner freedom. It is a timeless spiritual truth: release attachment to outcomes, and — deep inside yourself — you’ll feel good no matter what.”

    I left that festival with a seed planted deep inside my mind.

    Donald Ingram Smith remained my friend.

    As I entered a more tumultuous teenage phase I lost touch with him which I recovered in my late teens. A friendship that became mostly forged in short phone calls where I updated him on my immature choices and life views and he offered generous guidance and hearty laughter on the other end of the line, as his ageing body became frail.

    When I was 19 I received a phone call stating that he was dying.

    I called him one last time and he told me of his graceful exit plan.

    He told me that he was ready to go and that he was grateful for his long and rich life and the short years he was able to share with me. He told me to keep reading and to keep learning and to choose always love. Finally, he told me to trust my life. That it was going to take me exactly where needed to go. And that he loved me.

    Weeks later I heard that he stopped eating and drinking in the final days before his death, as he told me would, to encourage his body with a rapid and clean journey out of this life, and his spirit the agency to pass into its next carnation.

    To mourn him is to celebrate the self-belief he awoke in me, the only tender love that I knew from a man at that time and the seeds he planted in a young girl that has grown into a forest of resilience, wisdom, and compassion, shaping the very essence of who I am today, an eternal testament to the mark he left on me.

  • you’re right

    “Your conclusion that there isn’t enough of something—whether it is enough land, or money, or clarity—stems from you learning, without meaning to, a vibration that holds you apart from what you want.” — Abraham Hicks

    A few years ago I had a boyfriend who was the most frugal, ungenerous man I have ever met. He would always choose the cheapest options in the supermarket, suggest low-to-no-budget dates and if we did go to dinner he would meticulously calculate the total and then split it with me. Generally, he hesitated to offer any gesture that might cost him financially.

    He was so cheap that everything we did felt small, suffocating and limited.

    During the four years of our relationship, our financial situations shifted. I met him in the second year of my business when I was barely making enough to get by but by the end of the four years, I outearned him by almost double.

    The difference between him and I was that I did the work.


    her wealth — the live 5-week women’s money training — is starting soon. enrollments close on Sunday, February 25th. learn more and join here.


    He had a ‘lack’ mentality. So he scrimped and calculated and pinched.

    I was familiar with this type of thinking. I also had been brought up to believe that there is never enough. But I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

    I wanted to feel expansive. Abundant. Free.

    I wanted to feel like money was never going to stop me from living a good life.

    The difference between having a lack mentality and an abundance mentality?

    Perception.
    Resulting in your life experience.
    Perception is our belief in what is true.
    Our experiences are the tangible results of what we believe.

    Often, I hear or read conversations based on beliefs that there is not enough in the world:

    • “There aren’t enough good jobs to go around.”
    • “We are running out of natural resources. Water, oil…”
    • “There’s not enough money for everyone to be wealthy.”
    • “There isn’t enough food to feed all the people on the planet.”
    • “The economy is on a constant downturn. No one can thrive with this.”

       

    After years (and years and years) of studying human behaviour and psychology, I’ve come to understand one straightforward concept: whatever we believe, is true for us. Our beliefs dictate the experience we have of the world.

    Here’s another perspective:

    • It’s estimated that we have over 8 billion people in the world. As a small example, the world military expenditure is estimated at over 1,700 billion USD, to give you a tiny idea proportionally on how much money there is in the world. So yeah: There is more than enough money for everyone in the world. Our beautiful lesson to learn here is how to get into that stream of delightful money, by looking at our beliefs and deciding to change them.
    • We all have different interests and passions. Some people love to write. Some people love to invent. Some people love to sing, to build, and some people love math. One person’s menial job is another person’s dream. This is not true for 100% of jobs, sure; but with eight billion very different people living on this planet, you’d be surprised at what different people enjoy, and consider a good job.
    • We can all thrive, despite whatever the economy is supposedly doing. Some of the biggest, most successful brands and businesses came from a time when they were challenged. It’s those limitations that add fuel to genius and result in incredible success.
    • Hunger is caused by poverty and inequality, not scarcity. For the past two decades, global food production has increased faster than the global population growth rate. The world already produces more than 1½ times enough food to feed everyone on the planet. That’s enough to feed 10 billion people, the population peak we expect by 2050.
    • Or as Prof. Steve Horwitz says “There are economic reasons why we will never run out of many resources. In a free market system, prices signal scarcity. So as a resource becomes more scarce, it becomes more expensive, which incentivizes people to use less of it and develop new alternatives, or to find new reserves of that resource that were previously unknown or unprofitable. We have seen throughout history that the human mind’s ability to innovate, coupled with a free market economic system, is an unlimited resource that can overcome the limitations we perceive with natural resources.”

    Let’s circle back to my ex-boyfriend. He was a middle-class man, with a helicopter licence and a passion for law enforcement and access to endless opportunities. But he had a deeply ingrained lack belief that stemmed from his childhood upbringing and father’s role modelling.

    Although he could easily make more money than the average person, he still felt that he never had enough money to afford even the simplest of things.

    The more lack he felt, the more life affirmed his belief that there was not enough money.

    There’s a psychological term for this exact thing.

    It’s called our reticular activating system.

    It acts as the library of our belief system. These beliefs affect our perception of thoughts. Then our perceptions control how we feel about one subject. Or another.

    His reticular activating system caused him to seek out experiences that support his belief that there isn’t enough.

    And so suddenly he would be hit with a huge unexpected bill. Or make a critical decision in an investment, losing large sums of money. Or his well-paying job became redundant.

    Because this is how the reticular activating system works.

    This doesn’t only apply to finances. It applies to every area of life: Relationships, health, happiness. Everything you experience in life is affected by what you believe is true. (Your reticular activating system.) Your beliefs create your perceptions, and vice versa.

    When you believe that there is not enough of what you want there won’t be. Because you can’t ask for something that you don’t believe exists, is possible, or is true for you.

    You have to change the integral belief first, and foremost, and then start calling in what you want.

    How?

    It’s easy.

    Start looking for and seeking out evidence to support the belief that you want. Find research that supports the sentiment there is more than enough…money, jobs, natural resources, etc.

    In this way, you can break your lack mentality by choosing a new perception, a new stream of thoughts on any topic.

    This is called reframing in psychology. it works the same way. When you start to believe something new, your reticular activating system starts to take effect and produce those beliefs as tangible, practical results and experiences in life.


    I’d love to help you re-write the economic rules you have set for yourself.

    Join me for her wealth, now. Spaces are limited.


    It’s 100% up to you what you choose to believe. You get to design your life any way you want. If you want to believe in lack. Do it! May you have a powerful, positive change in the world through your beliefs. If you want to believe in abundance. Awesome! And may you have a fulfilling and enchanting positive impact on the world through your beliefs.

  • little miracles

    life update: red cappuccinos, warm grand-fatherly wisdom, friend-dates that end in kisses, inequality turned into appreciation, money & self-worth & internal reorienting + more…

    “What was your miracle today?” The text reads.

    I just sat down in my new favourite cafe, a small red, white and pink oriental/hipster/millennial vibes place that’s cute and kitsch with an obvious identity crisis, laptop in tow. I pull my phone out and read those words, words we have been sending back and forth to each other. An invitation to look for the miracle that happens each day.

    Yesterday’s miracle was a delightful Greek lunch date with a man I consider just a friend which poured over into an art gallery and music adventures through Cape Town’s city centre streets and ended with a kiss.

    The other miracle was the deep sleep that followed.

    I order a ‘red cappuccino’ from the stocky African man behind the counter, flustered and sweating in his busyness — essentially a shot of strong rooibos tea made like a coffee — and return to my seat at a bench that has small cards labelled with “for laptops”.

    I don’t notice the elderly man who sits down next to me until he turns and asks “Where are you visiting from?” I smile at him and say I live in the U.K. wondering how my Europeanness stands out. He tells me his daughter lives there naming a town in Surrey that I do not know.

    We chat about travel and Cape Town, how the world has changed from recognition in the past three years and how social media is doing a number on human beings.

    I tell him about my philosophy and my guilt.

    That we are not meant to have so much information to filter through our minds, that I choose not to watch the news nor engage in the mad goings-on of the world stage because if/when I do it does irreparable damage to my mental health and that I feel guilty that by making this choice I am not offering a positive contribution to the world.

    He presents a warm grandfatherly wisdom-filled smile.

    “I think it’s the opposite. I think you are doing far more good for the world by refusing to engage with the drama on the world stage that is not a real part of your life because it means you can be present with what is real. The best thing you can do is make choices about the kind of life you want here and now. Is that a privilege? Sure. That’s the gift you were given. Make use of it.”

    Solaced and grateful for his words I smile and thank him before the conversation is hijacked by a runaway dog who scampers into the cafe followed many confusing minutes later by a stressed dog walker with seven other dogs attached to his waist. My elderly companion finishes his coffee and says goodbye.

    Maybe that was today’s miracle, I think.

    After he leaves I weigh his words and how they fit into my current perspective of the world and my place in it. These past few months what I’ve really learned is just how privileged I am. And not to take any of it for granted.

    Seeing people suffering without access to basic resources and human rights has lit a fire in me.

    Not the fire you might think.

    I do not think omgoddess, life is so unfair whydoIhavealltheseresourcesandtheydon’t. I should have/take less.

    No. I have known for a long time that life is ‘unfair’. Life is unjust all the time. People die. People hurt. Life is unequal. Just look at nature.

    The fire that has been lit in me was that, while I am alive, I might as well make the most of what I have available to me. And in making the most of it, I can also be generous with what I have.

    When I appreciate what I have, I am abundant. When I feel abundant, I am free to give back more of myself and my resources.

  • little miracles

    little miracles

    “What was your miracle today?” The text reads.

    I just sat down in my new favourite cafe, a small red, white and pink oriental/hipster/millennial vibes place that’s cute and kitsch with an obvious identity crisis, laptop in tow. I pull my phone out and read those words, words we have been sending back and forth to each other. An invitation to look for the miracle that happens each day.

    Yesterday’s miracle was a delightful Greek lunch date with a man I consider just a friend which poured over into an art gallery and music adventures through Cape Town’s city centre streets and ended with a kiss.

    The other miracle was the deep sleep that followed.

    I order a ‘red cappuccino’ from the stocky African man behind the counter, flustered and sweating in his busyness — essentially a shot of strong rooibos tea made like a coffee — and return to my seat at a bench that has small cards labelled with “for laptops”.

    I don’t notice the elderly man who sits down next to me until he turns and asks “Where are you visiting from?” I smile at him and say I live in the U.K. wondering how my Europeanness stands out. He tells me his daughter lives there naming a town in Surrey that I do not know.

    We chat about travel and Cape Town, how the world has changed from recognition in the past three years and how social media is doing a number on human beings.

    I tell him about my philosophy and my guilt.

    That we are not meant to have so much information to filter through our minds, that I choose not to watch the news nor engage in the mad goings-on of the world stage because if/when I do it does irreparable damage to my mental health and that I feel guilty that by making this choice I am not offering a positive contribution to the world.

    He presents a warm grandfatherly wisdom-filled smile.

    “I think it’s the opposite. I think you are doing far more good for the world by refusing to engage with the drama on the world stage that is not a real part of your life because it means you can be present with what is real. The best thing you can do is make choices about the kind of life you want here and now. Is that a privilege? Sure. That’s the gift you were given. Make use of it.”

    Solaced and grateful for his words I smile and thank him before the conversation is hijacked by a runaway dog who scampers into the cafe followed many confusing minutes later by a stressed dog walker with seven other dogs attached to his waist. My elderly companion finishes his coffee and says goodbye.

    Maybe that was today’s miracle, I think.

    After he leaves I weigh his words and how they fit into my current perspective of the world and my place in it. These past few months what I’ve really learned is just how privileged I am. And not to take any of it for granted.

    Seeing people suffering without access to basic resources and human rights has lit a fire in me.

    Not the fire you might think.

    I do not think omgoddess, life is so unfair whydoIhavealltheseresourcesandtheydon’t. I should have/take less.

    No. I have known for a long time that life is ‘unfair’. Life is unjust all the time. People die. People hurt. Life is unequal. Just look at nature.

    The fire that has been lit in me was that, while I am alive, I might as well make the most of what I have available to me. And in making the most of it, I can also be generous with what I have.

    When I appreciate what I have, I am abundant. When I feel abundant, I am free to give back more of myself and my resources.

    her wealth

    In speaking to this, I softly opened earlybird enrolments for Her Wealth: a five-week money course for women starting at the end of this month. The early bird option has limited spots and ends on Saturday the 10th at midnight. Enrol here.

    There’s a hot wind blowing in from the interior today, warm air wafting in currents between sweaty bodies as the desert tries to extend its reach to the Atlantic Ocean shore. I brought a Balinese fan out with me and am fanning strangers as I weave my way down to the water’s edge to keep cool.

    I spend my days walking along the ocean, taking dips in the ice-cold water, making new friends and working: running my personal brand, seeing private clients, meeting with my The Mentor Training team (enrolments open again soon), and overseeing Plannher my stationery label.

    Speaking of…

    mentoring

    I have 3 new spaces to work with me starting in March. Press reply to this if you want to know more about what that might look like.

    Mentoring topics always seem to move in seasons. What has been coming up for my recent clients is this internal reorienting of who they are, who they want to be and what that means for their place in the world. We are only just grasping how the past three years have impacted us as individuals and as a collective and we are all at a crossroads of some kind to make decisions about the future.

    January’s her way circle was on precisely this topic: crossroads navigated by stepping back from the cacophony of external noise and turning the gaze inward, so we can collect the subtle signposts that are offering us a new way forward.

    Amidst these explorations of my own, as I restructure the way I work with a focus on relaxing and softening into my professional life and letting it all come to me more with ease at the helm, I’ve changed my mind about a few things.

    her way circles

    One of them is that, originally, the her way circles were going to be for paid subscribers only. Now, I’ve decided that, in the spirit of generosity, I want to keep them free for everyone.

    Here is the replay, to watch, for all.

    I’ll be back in your emails mid-next week with an invitation to the next one which will be on the topic of ‘worthiness’ or ‘worthfulness’ and how we decide on and prescribe our self-worth, both financially and in our sense of self and esteem.

    more little miracles

    The depth of gratitude I feel for the sun and sea right now is immeasurable, my appreciation coupled with a heartfelt yearning for ‘home’. Home. It’s the first time in a long time that I have allowed myself this kind of nostalgia.

    Another little miracle happened a few days ago when the perfect flat, in the perfect location, at the perfect price opened up for me in Forest Row. Just at the right time.

    It found me, after I had given up my search, and posted an ad on Spareroom.co.uk hoping it would act like a note to the Universe. It did and it worked and now I get to go back to the village love and left only a few months ago.

    A big piece of my sense of worthiness is allowing myself to have places that I feel I ‘belong’ to. They all have to do with people that I cherish the most alongside nature and lifestyle.

    I have travelled to so many places and after almost 20 years of that, all that’s left is blurred images of landscapes held together by threads of love and friendship. My yearning to explore the unknown outer terrain has been replaced by a desire to explore the unfamiliar inner ones.

    This trip has re-inspired my re-indigenisation into my traditional roots: Italian and Austrian and then going further to British, Romanian and Arabic. I want to learn and remember where I come from and the rituals and connections to nature that my ancestors practised.

    This seed was planted two years ago when I read Sand Talk by Tyson Yunkaportawhich I recommended in one of my emails to you. It sparked something in me and started a revolution around the legacy I want my life to have which is to integrate and honour both the past and the future. This is why I keep being pulled back to Europe, to where my indigenous lineage lies.

  • wealth, her way (your way)

    The other day a friend and I met up for dinner and we talked a lot about financial independence and how important it is to be financially independent to feel well, to have good self-esteem, and to be able to make choices that benefit all.

    Over several 4-bites-per-serve sized seafood mains that should have been tapas, shared out equally, and glasses of white wine from the vineyard we looked out on, we relished our momentary opulence.

    Ultimately, we agreed, that what we all want is to feel secure, circulate wealth, enjoy our lives and do good.

    The past six months have brought about some pretty drastic changes across the globe. Costs of living heightened, wages barely increased, some people lost jobs and it all felt kind of extreme and demeaning and unfair.

    Just as we had come out from under a domino of disasters, did we need another reason to feel squeezed in our lives?

    No.

    But.

    We get to do some really cool shit with money.

    We get to live in homes with running water and heating or cooling respectively to our needs. We get to choose the foods that we like grown under the conditions of our preference. We get to go to places and see art under soft lighting or artists under spotlights sweating for their craft. We get to be those artists graciously demanding to be seen by paying for the tools required. We get to go places and have adventures and meet people who like the things we like. We get to walk down mostly safe streets and drive down mostly asphalted roads and buy steaming cups of coffee and bagels or doughnuts or little energy balls made of dates and coconut…

    All those simple delights require some kind of exchange.

    The exchange of currency.

    Money.

    Ultimately it’s an imperfect system. Like every other system in the world.

    We can either feel resentment and bitterness around its deficiencies and cringe and complain about the day-to-day of our lives and the necessity to exist in this imperfect system to support ourselves. But that isn’t going to make life any better or easier.

    Or…

    We can accept that change is small and incremental. That change happens slowly and then eventually hopefully all at once. That what we can do, while we chip away at creating a better future, is learn how to play the current game.

    On our terms. Our way.

    As women, especially.

    We need to learn how to play the game of money.

    Whenever I speak to women about money three big stakes come up:

    1. Feeling WORTHY and able to hold on to/manage/be good custodians of larger sums of money
    2. Being able to ASK FOR and RECEIVE the amount of money they want/need/are worthy of, whether in a salary or in a business where they are selling products and services.
    3. How they FEEL about money, the two ends of the spectrum being either shying away from talking about and looking at your money/accounts — or being overly controlling, but either way feeling FEAR.

    I took this conversation to Instagram and asked:

    WHAT IS YOUR MOST SPECIFIC MONEY CHALLENGE YOU WOULD LIKE TO CHANGE?

    There were many many many good answers but these were the most common:

    Sitting on the edge of the ocean in the sand on the weekend I watch a little hermit crab scurry past on its 10 little legs moving sideways over tiny sand dunes. He stops. Hesitating many times. Circling me. Searching.

    I see him find a shell. A tusk-shaped spiral a little bigger than his own. He turns it around. Waddles past several times. Looks inside. Stops, again.

    A few moments later that little crab crawls out of his shell, naked and alone, without protection or a home. So vulnerable. Anything could happen.

    He circles his old shell a few times. Stops. Then scurries to the new one and hides inside. Slowly, slowly those 10 little legs reappear. Sideways, he’s off again.

    I’ve never seen a hermit crab change shells before. It reminds me of growth. And those terrifying moments of complete defenselessness, unprotected and alone. I find myself in that strangely vulnerable place again.

    Being self-employed and responsible for 100%  of my income I started thinking about all the ways this could all go wrong. Old habitual thought patterns arose.

    Expansion is always preceded by contraction.

    I find myself in this place, every time I take a leap and grow. First comes the inner struggle. Then comes the discomfort. Then the awareness and the willingness to change. Followed by results.

    I’ve been doing this process every year or so since 2014. 10 years of educating myself about finances means I know a thing or two.

    I’d like to share it all with you.

    her wealth

    the women’s money training

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    & a community of women from around the world, just like you.

    starting: Tuesday, February 27

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