Vienda Maria

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Category: inner space

  • clovers

    clovers

    about clovers, consciousness, and coming home to yourself

    The first time I searched for clovers, I was lying in the garden of my grandparents’ home, cheek pressed to the grass. I must’ve been three or four. My mother, crouched beside me, coaxed me to listen. “You can hear it grow,” she said. She weaved her hand through a patch taller than the rest, her voice low and conspiratorial. “We’re looking for a four-leaf clover,” she told me. “One in every ten thousand is lucky.”

    I was spellbound. Even at that age, I think I knew somewhere inside my tiny chest that this was what I’d always be doing. Looking for signs of the mystical, the invisible, the more-than-meets-the-eye hidden in plain sight.

    Years pass. Another country. Another version of me.

    It’s 4 a.m. in Bristol, and something wakes me. A vibration. Somewhere in the distance, a sound system is thrumming through the earth like a call. I dress quickly, wrap an oversized scarf around my shoulders, fill a water bottle, and step out into the still-blue dark.

    The streets are half-asleep, but I’m pulled forward. Down narrow lanes. Through a tunnel tagged with messages like prayers. I follow the sound, lose it briefly to the growl of a generator, then find it again. Cresting a hill, I arrive to see a hundred people scattered across a grassy knoll. A makeshift DJ booth. Giant speakers booming techno into the sky.

    Someone walks up to me immediately, parched. He gestures toward my bottle. “Of course,” I say, handing it over. When he finishes drinking, he presses a little white pill into my palm. A thank you.

    I take it without thinking, settle down into the grass beside someone I half-know. My fingers begin to idly stroke the blades. And then, suddenly, I see one. A clover. Four leaves. Then another. Then another. Seven in total, all nestled in a single patch beneath me like a private miracle.

    I fold six of them into my notebook and give one to my neighbour, giddy. I’m high. The music is inside me. The sun is coming up and everything feels full, like the veil between the seen and unseen has grown thin. My heart is pounding with joy.

    Reality, I’ve learned, is never neutral. It bends through the lens of the mind that’s perceiving it. What you see, what I see, it’s never the same thing. We’re all wandering around inside our own maps, shaped by family, culture, memory. When we insist that ours is the only truth, we miss each other entirely.

    Fast forward again. Tuscany, Italy. A villa hidden among olive trees. I’m here with a lover, invited to help with the harvest. For days, we rake olives from branches and into nets, the work sweet and repetitive, the kind that exhausts the body just enough to quiet the mind.

    On the fifth morning, I froth milk over the stove and carry two coffees outside. The children from the house circle around me, their chatter light and skittish as birds. One of them, a two-year-old girl, calls me “Honey.” She can’t pronounce Vienda.

    I feel the now-familiar pull. My eyes land on a darker patch of grass. I set the coffee down and kneel.

    “What are you doing, Honey?” she asks.

    “I’m looking for a four-leaf clover,” I reply.

    And there it is. Right in front of me. Then another. The adults gasp. I hand both to my lover. He presses them into the back of his journal like evidence.

    There’s magic everywhere if you know how to see. But so many of us have forgotten. We’ve been taught to expect danger, to defer to logic, to stay in line. We’ve been told that surrender is foolish, softness is weakness, and intuition is unreliable. And so, we trade our knowing for safety. Our voice for approval. Our inner wisdom for the illusion of control.

    But eventually, the body remembers what the mind has tried to override.

    Just days ago, here in New York, the city was swelling with that first hot breath of spring. We had plans to board a ferry across the Hudson but missed it. The next wouldn’t arrive for hours. So we walked back towards home.

    We’d both been cooped up working, he on a book that’ll be published later this year, me on a course called The Way She Knows, which had just opened for earlybird enrolments. We need sunlight. Air. Movement.

    As we meander along the river, I stop. “Wait,” I said, “I want to check something.”

    I crouch beside a small patch of green growing along the sidewalk. Something had tugged at me, quiet but insistent. I peer closer and blink. The biggest four-leaf clover I’ve ever seen. Massive. Radiant. Impossible. I show him.

    “What the heck!” he says. “It’s like you knew it was there.”

    I smile, gleeful and press it gently between two bills in my wallet. Because of course it was there. Of course I knew.

    There comes a point in every woman’s life when she realises:

    It’s not the world holding her back. Not the people around her, or the circumstances, or the past. It’s the quiet, looping stories she inherited. The beliefs. The patterns. The protections.

    I know this terrain intimately.

    For years, I lived split in two, pulled between what I felt and what I’d been taught to believe.

    Until I couldn’t anymore.

    Reclaiming myself wasn’t a single moment. It was a thousand tiny ones. Clearing those internal blocks, not just intellectually, but somatically, emotionally, spiritually, changed everything. It gave me back my voice. My clarity. My intuition. My joy.

    That’s what this two-week journey is for.

    A reclamation.
    A remembering.
    A return to the way you know.

    𓂃 𓈒𓏸

    The Way She Knows
    A two-week course to reconnect you with your inner wisdom

    Enrolment opened: Monday, May 5
    Earlybird ends: Monday, May 12 (with the Full Moon 🌝)
    Enrolment closes: Friday, May 24

  • this life is a dream within a dream ☁️

    about NYC being a place of contrast requiring inner stability, and the quiet strength of being well-resourced

    When I stepped out of JFK airport and followed the signs to the subway, I braced myself. New York is known for its edge, its abrasion. I am soft. I tend and protect that softness like a flame cupped in two hands. I wasn’t sure how it would survive here.

    I tapped my phone at the turnstile and joined a tall young man in the elevator. He wore headphones and held himself like someone accustomed to noise. Still, I turned to him, map pulled up on my phone, unsure where to go. He removed one earbud, glanced at the screen, and said in the gentlest voice, “You can’t get the F from here, but if you take the K, you can transfer in three stops.” 

    I blinked. He had such a kind presence. His softness mirrored mine. Maybe there’s space for gentleness here, after all.

    I followed his directions toward the Lower East Side. A few minutes into the ride, the unmistakable smell of urine filled the carriage. A man down the carriage—middle-aged, Chinese descent—had wet himself and begun swearing loudly. Slurring. Angry. A different kind of edge.

    This city, I’m learning, holds everything. Softness and despair. Precision and chaos. A young man with headphones offering quiet directions. An older man unravelling in public. Here, opposites coexist, unapologetically. New York is a city of contrasts, and that is, perhaps, its defining trait.

    The days have spilled into one another like rainwater pooling in uneven stone. Time behaves differently here. Moments stretch. Then vanish. Weeks slip past before I can grab hold. What I’m learning is this: I cannot tether myself to the outside world. It’s too volatile. Too fast. Too much.

    Instead, I tether myself inward. I return to a still point inside me — a quiet place I cultivate through ritual and self-devotion. I nurture it like a small garden: feeding it with breath, rest, laughter, water, movement, music. A daily act of remembrance. Of protection. Of belonging to myself.

    Sometimes, it’s as simple as walking to Whole Foods alone, sending a few voice notes to the women who hold me in their hearts. That ten-minute walk fulfils two needs: solitude and connection. It’s imperfect. But it’s enough.

    Work is another tether. Returning to it each day — whether I want to or not — grounds me. I write. I build. I teach. I remember who I am. Even when the city pulls me in every direction.

    Last night, friends made homemade pizza and poured glasses of white wine. We ate slowly, talked about art, about cities we’ve loved. And then, walking home, we passed a man with his trousers around his knees, bare bottom exposed, head buried in a trash bin. Of course. That’s New York, too.

    Right now, I’m writing this during a live co-writing session for The Art of Noticing. Eight of us are here, silent on Zoom, warm orchestral music in the background. Earlier, we spoke about a line from one of my recent essays about being a well-resourced woman. We explored how writing can teach without instructing. That sometimes, the lesson is simply in the living.

    In Her Way Club, this here community I lead, that’s what I teach: how to listen inward. How to find your way—not the right way, not the perfect way, but yourway. In writing. In loving. In parenting. In creating. In becoming.

    And to find your way, you must first be resourced. You need space. You need softness. You need access to yourself.

    Being resourced is a privilege, yes. But it’s also a practice. A skill we build and rebuild. I see it as the art of tending to our inner ecosystem. Of becoming our own safe haven.

    It means expanding your capacity to meet life without collapsing. Learning to sit with discomfort. Making choices from groundedness, not panic. It doesn’t mean you never need others. It means you’re not uprooted every time the wind blows.

    How do you become that person?

    You start small:

    • You build a daily rhythm that supports your nervous system.
    • You learn to breathe when you want to scream.
    • You create a home that feels like a hug.
    • You save a little money, even when it’s hard.
    • You learn to cook a meal you love.
    • You reach out and you know how to be alone.
    • You keep learning. Keep listening.

    This is what I’ve brought with me to New York. Not just clothes and books and dreams, but tools. Practices. A soft heart and a solid core.

    And maybe that’s enough to belong here.

  • what I did yesterday

    The task is simple and deceptively difficult: What did you do yesterday?

    We have always been curious about the lives of others.

    Long before television and tabloids, we craned our necks at windows, imagined stories behind closed doors. That impulse to know, to glimpse, to understand is ancient. We are, all of us, secret witnesses, seeking reflection, seeking difference, seeking the tender knowledge that we are not alone.

    “Ah,” we think, “so this is how another human moves through the day. How strange. How ordinary. How marvellous.”

    Most of us, if asked, would call our days unremarkable. We would point to the routines, the errands, the silences, and shrug. But presence alters the lens. What once seemed plain is suddenly flooded with texture:

    The amber glow of morning through the blinds.
    The brief pleasure of a spoon against the roof of the mouth.
    The idle reaching for a book, for a thought, for another hand.

    A life, it turns out, is made not of milestones, but of minutiae.

    It was this quiet revelation that shaped this week’s assignment in The Art of Noticing, the six-week writing club I am leading. The prompt is borrowed, with gratitude, from Aisling Marron of Notes From New York, who herself was inspired by a podcast of the same name.

    The task is simple and deceptively difficult: What did you do yesterday?

    No digressions. No rewinding or fast-forwarding. Only the bare, shining truth of a single day, as it unfolded.

    Here is mine:

    7:00am
    My boyfriend’s alarm goes off, the buzz slicing through the heavy fog of my sleep. I roll onto my side, eyes gritty, my head thick and stuffed with cotton wool. Regret clings to me immediately. Regret for the ambitious plans I agreed to, for not protecting the softness of this morning. But I am an adult and adults honour their commitments, so I climb down the ladder from our loft bed, bare feet pressing onto the cool wooden floor. I pull my aligners from my mouth, soak them in their cleaning agent, put the kettle on, and drop an ‘immune support’ Yogi tea bag into favourite mug. I find my tiny jar of Egyptian Magic and bring it and the tea to the sofa. My face aches, pulsing with the imprint of too-little sleep and the too-salty dinner from the night before. I settle into the cushions and begin to massage my lymph nodes slowly — chest, neck, jawline, cheeks, scalp — coaxing the fluid back into its pathways, feeling the swelling subside little by little. These small, tender rituals make me grateful for everything I’ve learned about how to tend to myself.

    7:30am
    My boyfriend finds me curled up on the sofa, kisses me. “How did you sleep?” he asks, and I reply “Fine”. I stretch my arms overhead and yawn, “The problem with making plans ahead of time is you never know how you’re going to feel when they arrive.” I splash warm water on my face, wipe off the leftover balm with a soft cloth, and brush my teeth, waking myself up bit by bit. He laughs and mixes creatine into two glasses of water — one for each of us. We sit shoulder-to-shoulder as I quickly scroll through my social apps, answering urgent messages and uploading the next The Art of Noticing lesson for my writing club. “Let’s go for coffee!” he suggests, and I peel myself away to dig through drawers in our little walk-in wardrobe, finding black leggings, a soft, sky-blue yoga tank, and my favourite Free People fleece that still smells of Portugal.

    8:15am
    As we descend the narrow staircase of our building, he tells me in hushed tones about how he heard someone fiddling with our lock in the night. A chill prickles up my spine; New York feels wild and unpredictable. We agree to tell the landlord, unsure how concerned we ought to be. Our favourite coffee shop is tucked just under our building, but he’s craving a vegan croissant, so we detour to Essex Market, the morning still crisp and pale. When we arrive, the market is shuttered, the gates still pulled down. Even New York, it seems, has its limits. By the time we return, the coffee shop has filled with people; there’s a queue spooled inside. We squeeze in, order two coffees and a few treats: a tahini cookie and oat cappuccino for him, a flat white and buttery croissant for me. I’m still hollow from yesterday’s hunger and bite into the pastry peeking out of the paper bag before the coffees arrive.

    9:00am
    I log onto Zoom for a meeting with an alumna from The Mentor Training. As we speak, my sluggish mind lifts into a higher orbit, buoyed by the energy of possibility. I remember — oh yes — I have built things, beautiful things. I have made worlds out of ideas. It’s so easy for me to forget, to always chase the next horizon without pausing to admire the view. Having it mirrored back to me reignites a quiet fire inside.

    9:45am
    We end the call with a plan and a few fresh objectives, and I scramble around our tiny LES apartment gathering keys and my phone, throwing back a glass of water before running to yoga class. I arrive breathless but just in time. The teacher welcomes me warmly: she’s tall, with a fluid grace, long stretchy limbs, and a soft accent that feels instantly soothing. She gestures for me to grab two blocks and a strap, and I find a space right at the front. A man plops down beside me at the last moment. Round-bellied, bald, but adorned in a pink ballerina-style outfit, bright red lipstick and nails to match. I smile to myself: we’re all girls here today.

    10:00am
    We begin on our backs, breath deepening, bodies sinking into the earth. The teacher’s style is light and casual, her voice weaving through the room like a ribbon. As we move into slow sun salutations, I feel the two decades of practice unfurling in my muscles, a familiar dance. Movement practices like yoga are an anchor for me, a home I can return to no matter how much the outer world shape-shifts. By the end of class, every inch of me feels stretched and rinsed clean. I thank the teacher quietly, wipe my mat with a lemon-scented towelette, and slide my Birkenstocks back on, feeling the earth a little closer beneath my feet.

    11:30am
    A 10-minute voice note from my bestie is waiting, so I pop my headphones in as I wander home, the city buzzing around me. I duck into a small beauty boutique and marvel at the rows of glass bottles and creams before finding my beloved Italian leave-in conditioner. $42, I am willing to invest in. As I browse, I send her a stream-of-consciousness voice reply, not to inform but to process; our sacred girlfriend ritual. It’s therapy in miniature, given and received without expectation.

    11:45am
    By the time I get home, I’m ravenous. I find my boyfriend deep in work at the tiny kitchen table and ask if he wants to share a picnic. He nods silently as I pull guacamole, purple corn chips, and baby carrots from the fridge. I slice tofu, arrange everything on a big plate, and pour coconut water into tall glasses. We carry it all to the coffee table and sit cross-legged, eating with our fingers and laughing about nothing in particular. I love how easy nourishment can be when it’s shared.

    12:30pm
    The shower is in the kitchen, a relic from the building’s pre-plumbing past. The hot water washes the morning away: tea-tree scented soap, a razor across my legs, a shampoo bar in my hair and afterwards my new leave-in conditioner combed through and coconut oil slathered on my skin with slow devotion. Fridays are for beauty, for romance, for the small Venusian acts of pleasure. I leave my hair to air dry, slip into shorts and a loose lounge top, and tidy the apartment, vacuum humming underfoot. I can’t sit down to work until my space feels clean and peaceful.

    1:00pm
    I curl into child’s pose on the sofa to write emails, tucked into myself. Eventually, my legs go numb, and I unfold with a sigh. I tick through admin tasks for The Mentor Training, refilling my water glass now and then. Around 3pm, I hand my boyfriend a glass too, scolding him lightly for not drinking enough. We giggle about something small and silly, and suddenly, at the same time, blurt out, “I love you.” He pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I love this,” he says, forehead against mine. “Working quietly together. Laughing. It’s precious.” I press my palm to his heart, and we both turn to admire the little pot of spring flowers blooming vibrantly in the window, as if blessing the day.

    4:40pm
    He has plans to meet a friend at 5:00pm, and I decide to tag along, craving fresh air more than another minute of screen time. I waste most of my twenty-minute warning scrolling, then throw on a dress and sneakers, and wipe a lip tint on, and we’re out the door. We meet his friend at Essex Market and order drinks — matcha latte for me, iced decaf for them — and wander through the golden slant of late afternoon. I find myself distracted by the light bouncing off the buildings, the life vibrating in the streets. We wander through hidden galleries, a park filled with wildly competitive ping pong matches, and a tiny poodle who decides to befriend me. On a tucked-away corner, I discover Casetta, the sweetest wine bar, and instantly decide we must return for date night.

    Casetta

    6:00pm
    We stop at a market to pick up a baguette, some hummus, pico de gallo, and tiny, perfect avocados. Bread in NYC is standard stale (why?) but we take our bounty home for a second, casual picnic at the coffee table, layering pesto and arugula and salt on thick slices. We eat quickly, laughing and stealing bites from each other’s plates, knowing we have to leave soon for our night at the Whitney.

    7:50pm
    The Whitney is alive, packed with people, more than we expected. It’s a little overwhelming trying to see the art through the thick crowd. Still, some moments shine. I overhear a girl say to her boyfriend, “You have marathons, I have stairs,” as we climb to the rooftop, and I laugh in solidarity. And at the top the whole city stretched out in luminous twilight. He pulls me close, kisses me with a rare, wild tenderness, and I feel something invisible and important shift between us.

    8:45pm
    We meander back downtown through SoHo and into LES, the streets thick with nightlife now, music spilling out of bars and windows flung open. New York shape-shifts after dark, but I don’t feel the pull to join it. I feel full already — full of the day, of the hours stacked like soft, golden bricks inside me.

    9:30pm
    We tumble onto the sofa and watch the latest episode of Severance, my body warm and heavy with tiredness. Afterwards, I move through my nighttime rituals: wash my face, brush my teeth, click my aligners back in. We climb the ladder into our loft bed. He wraps himself around me protectively, and I sink into his warmth, into the safety of our tiny kingdom, asleep almost before my head touches the pillow.

    Was it a good day? (They always ask that on the pod.)

    Yes — it was an excellent day. A day stitched with small joys: pastries and coffee, sunshine on skin, a body stretched long and sweet in yoga, easy laughter shared across a tiny kitchen table, a museum kissed by sunset, the heavy, sore satisfaction of a life well-lived inside an ordinary Friday.

  • my last week in portugal + mental health chats

    my last week in portugal + mental health chats

    sunshine, sadness & soft goodbyes

    It’s my final week in Portugal, and I’m taking you along for the ride—foggy-headed colds, emotional reflections, sunny beach breaks, and bittersweet goodbyes. From filming a workshop and navigating mental health wobbles to processing anxiety, getting a haircut, and soaking in some much-needed sunshine, it’s a week of tenderness, transition, and tuning into what my body and heart need. Plus: mermaid hair, vintage clothes, and a reminder that movement really is medicine. 💛

    Access my workshop from the video in the FREE REWILDING RETREAT here.

    A message about the Rewilding Retreat

    From day one, we’re handed a script filled with “shoulds” and “supposed to.” It tells us that fitting in and following the rules will lead to happiness. But instead, we end up feeling disconnected and numb and asking, “Whose life am I really living?”

    My friend Jenner felt exactly the same way. She did everything she thought she was supposed to — went to college, landed a dream job, fell in love — yet she felt more lost and disconnected than ever before.

    So, she tore up the old script and started her journey to rediscover herself.

    That’s exactly why Jenner created The Wild Ones® ReWilding Virtual Retreat.It’s all about going beyond society’s little boxes and rediscovering your natural, authentic self.

    This isn’t just another online event. This is a RECLAMATION.

    No wonder over 32,000 people have joined this event in the past, and now ReWilding returns for its 6th year, better than ever. I’m thrilled to be part of this experience, offering my own workshop on Choice Architecture and Invisible Currents.

    Our environment creates invisible currents that guide our decisions without conscious awareness. Join me in mapping the hidden choice architectures in your life — from physical spaces to digital environments to social circles — and identify how these structures might be invisibly directing your life trajectories. Then, let’s deliberately redesign them, together.

    During the 8 transformative days of this FREE online event, you’ll experience:

    Daily transmissions from over 30 hand-selected visionaries and healers (including me :) who will guide you back to your innate wisdom

    • Deep somatic practices to release years of conditioning stored in your body
    • Powerful energy activations that reconnect you to your authentic power
    • A global community of heart-centered rebels, walking this path alongside you

    “This retreat was a game-changer for me! I went in feeling lost and came out with a renewed sense of purpose and clarity.” — Emily

    The entire 8-day journey is completely FREE and designed to fit into your real, full life. No overwhelm, just deep resonance that changes everything.

    Ready to see what it looks like when you take your dreams seriously? Free tickets are available now, so claim yours here!

    I can’t wait to see you there!

    Vienda

  • make friends & steal their magic

    a note 📝 on why trying to do life alone is not a vibe, and how the right people make everything easier, better, and way less confusing

    The first marker of growth is realising that your parents are not all-knowing guides but imperfect humans navigating their own paths. 

    The second is recognising that while life may have handed you challenges, your power lies in how you choose to play the hand. Whether you stay stuck in your stories or rise to meet your own becoming. 

    The third is understanding the art of connection. How presence, warmth, and authenticity shape the way the world responds to you, weaving influence and possibility into every interaction, every moment, every version of yourself that you step into next.

    This morning, I woke up feeling like a half-formed thing. My bones, my skin, my memories had melted overnight into something unrecognisable. My heart, my lungs, my thoughts, all swimming in some liminal space between what was and what is becoming.

    I wanted to do everything at once. Crawl out of my skin, burrow deep inside myself, grasp at the illusion of normalcy. That fleeting sense of steadiness that comes and goes like sunlight through moving clouds.

    But that’s not the life I chose. 

    I throw myself headfirst into new things. Willing myself into expansion, into shedding, into becoming, and then — wide-eyed, bewildered — curse myself for it.

    This is what it means to be alive. 

    A continuous rhythm of unravelling and reassembling, of losing myself and finding my way back home.

    Human transformation is peculiar in that way. We appear mostly unchanged on the outside while, internally, our very foundation liquefies and reforms, shifting us into something both familiar and unrecognisably new. Some metamorphoses take years. Others happen in a single breath. We are forever mid-wifeing ourselves through cycles of undoing and recreating.

    And yet, we don’t do it alone. Evolution, growth, becoming: the process demands others. Those who have walked the path before us, showing us what’s possible. 

    People who, by simply existing, illuminate the shape of our own becoming. They are proof that what we long for isn’t just a dream. It’s a direction. A gravitational pull toward who we are meant to be.

    There was a time when I felt so disillusioned by who the world was telling me to be. And then, a woman entered my life. She embodied a grace, clarity, a way of moving through the world that felt like poetry in motion. She didn’t hand me a map. She didn’t give me step-by-step instructions. She simply lived in a way that whispered to something deep inside me: “This is possible for you, too.”

    I learned to echo her grace in my way. 

    We are not islands, shifting and reshaping in solitude. We are ecosystems, intertwined with those who expand us, who stretch our perception of what’s possible. The ones who have already created, built, or become something that stirs something deep within us. 

    A silent recognition. A quiet knowing: this is meant for you, too.

    Expanders are not accidental. 

    We are drawn to them because they reflect what already lives within us, waiting to be awakened. They show our subconscious that the path we crave isn’t just a fantasy—it’s real, and it’s attainable. Their existence cracks open the walls of our own limitations, permitting us to step forward, to believe, to act.

    A few years ago I met a woman who made big decisions without over-explaining or second-guessing. She laughed easily, moved boldly, and showed me — without ever meaning to — that I didn’t need to agonise over every choice or justify my desires. By being in her orbit, something in me softened. 

    I started letting things be easier. I started trusting myself more.

    Who we surround ourselves with matters. 

    Our communities shape our possibilities. The people in our orbit either reinforce old versions of us or pull us toward expansion. Without realising it, we are always absorbing, mirroring, and becoming.

    So this morning, as I sat with the discomfort of my own evolution, I asked myself: 

    Who is showing me the way? Who expands my world? And am I allowing myself to follow the pull?

    It is impossible to avoid the challenges, aches and pains that come with life. 

    True community emerges when we surround ourselves with those who understand that meaningful relationships are born out of action. 

    Love is a verb.

    We need to be the people willing to witness vulnerability without flinching.

    Our emotional lives mirror the natural world’s cycles: darkness and light eternally embracing one another. Each experience of sorrow carries within it the seed of joy; each moment of connection bears the imprint of our separateness. When we touch one state deeply, we become intimate with its opposite.

    This is authentic connection embodied.

    Recognising that friendship and community require us to honour the completeness of human experience, to practice presence in both suffering and celebration and to build relationships that nurture our collective well-being.

    This is where expanders come in.

    An expander is someone who has created or achieved something in their life that we desire to also have or create. This concept is based on simple neuroscience and the creation of mirror neurons.

    It’s not that expanders are perfect beings who have mastered life. They are everyday people, like you and me, who have flourished in certain areas, and because of this, they can expand us on our own journeys.

    One of my closest friends is a woman nearly a decade younger than me. Her emotional maturity and dedication to skillfulness in relationships astound me. I watch the way she approaches difficult conversations — not with avoidance or defensiveness — but with curiosity and care. 

    Being in her presence taught me to be a better friend, lover and human.

    Every single one of us inhabits the full spectrum of humanness. Those very aspects of these people that are bringing you so much inspiration are actually a reflection of aspects of you that have gotten lost due to societal, media, parental, or peer programming.1

    The beauty of expansion is that it doesn’t require perfection. Only possibility. We expand one another simply by existing in our truth.

    This is why I created ALIGNED.

    To provide access to the expanders and community that will walk alongside you as you navigate the transitions and transformations of your own becoming. Because you are not meant to do it alone.

    ALIGNED is more than a course. It is an incubator for expansion, for transformation, for meeting the people who will hold you in both strength and tenderness as you step into the version of yourself you know you are meant to be.

    Enrolment closes in 5 days. Learn more here: ALIGNED

    Client Receipts

    real stories, real impact 💫

    “I’ve been following you, Vienda, for years on Instagram long before Plannher, and will join whatever community you create because I know it will be fostered in an energy of growth, acceptance, and soul.”

    “I loved having someone in my court, to have someone waiting for me and knowing that would be a resource, a thing that wasn’t mine to solve, but someone I could collaborate with on solving or discovering things. That was a really lovely feeling.”

    “Having a group of people to get to know helped me feel like there was a community of like-minded people and feel supported even if we had different areas working through and on.”

    “I love the way you always include accountability partners and listening partners into your courses. I have always found it so valuable. I also do feel you attract interesting and powerful people to your courses that have so much value and I’ve stayed in touch with people in the past afterwards and supported each other’s businesses/visions which have been really special.”

    1

    If you are curious about finding your own expanders, choose something in your life that you would like to make real and then ask yourself these questions:

    • Who do I know that I feel drawn to almost instantly?
    • When I look at this person, what do I find appealing about them?
    • What is this person’s vibe that draws me to them? Is it something about their personality? Their career? Their spiritual approach or practices? The vacations they go on? Their relationship? The way they talk or how they dress?
    • What characteristics about this person resonate with me/remind me of myself?
    • What is their life story: are there any overlaps or similarities with my story?
    • How can I learn from this person? Do they have a book, podcast, or course? Can I spend time with them? Can I reach out and learn more about how they got to where they are?
    • Can this person help me become super clear on my desired manifestation? Do I realise details about their life that I would really like for my own?
    • What can I learn from this person?

  • I can’t believe I’ve been here (in Portugal) for 5 months!

    It’s been five months of life in Portugal, and I still can’t believe it.

    In this video, I reflect on the journey so far—returning from Salzburg, settling into Ericeira, and embracing the ever-unfolding adventure of change. People often ask me how I navigate transitions so smoothly, how I move through big life shifts with what seems like ease and grace. The truth? It’s not effortless—it’s a skill I’ve cultivated over years of deep inner work, trust, and surrender. Join me as I share my thoughts on resilience, adaptation, and finding beauty in the unknown.

    If you’re in a season of transition, I hope this video reminds you that change can be met with openness, softness, and strength.

    Let’s dive in.

    Links to articles on topics I mentioned:

    — my Instagram account has been hacked, disabled and is being held hostage for ransom: https://viendamaria.com/2025/02/06/my…

    — redirection (aka: goodbye Instagram): https://viendamaria.com/2025/02/11/re…

    — ALIGNED: https://viendamaria.com/aligned/

    Don’t forget to subscribe here:    / @viendamaria  

    Join over 100 peeps for the Free 6 Day CLARITY Challenge on my website: https://viendamaria.com/from-stuck-to…

    To get these videos directly in your inbox when they come out make sure you sign up to HER WAY CLUB: https://vienda.substack.com

    One of my favourite things to think, write and talk about is the intersection between life design and creating intentional freedom, in a soft, intuitive and feminine way.

    Read my writing here: https://vienda.substack.com

    Lots of love, Vienda x

  • how to actually change your life

    who am I when I am not running toward something new?

    For the next ten days, I am inviting you into a conversation about transformation—the kind that is deep, sustainable, and truly liberating. I’ll be sharing insights, stories, and practices from ALIGNED, my 6-week programdesigned to help you take intentional action in your life and business. This program is the culmination of years of personal exploration and guiding others through the delicate process of inner shifts that lead to tangible change.

    This work is profoundly important to me because I have lived and breathed it for years, testing its principles in my own life and witnessing its impact on the lives of those I’ve worked with. And nothing speaks to its power more than the experiences of past participants:

    “One key takeaway from this course was identifying my limiting belief: ‘I have to do it like everyone else.’ Realizing this and choosing a different story feels incredibly freeing.”

    “Having a group of people to get to know helped me feel like there was a community of like-minded individuals, offering support even as we worked on different areas of our lives.”

    “I love the way you always include accountability and listening partners in your courses. It creates such valuable connections, and I’ve stayed in touch with past participants, supporting each other’s businesses and visions in truly special ways.”

    “I took your course on money, and my entire life shifted within 2-3 months—that was crazy! I had been aware of my fears and beliefs for years but never found a way to let them go until I took your course. I am still mind-blown.”

    So much of what holds us back is invisible to us. 

    Our minds become intricate labyrinths of inherited narratives, subconscious fears, and well-worn patterns that shape our choices, often without our awareness. 

    This is why today, I want to talk to you about how to actually change your life — starting with the very thing that keeps you stuck: limiting beliefs.

    It’s been five months since I moved to this little surf town on the Atlantic coast of Portugal. Five months of waking to the sound of waves rolling against the cliffs, of salt-drenched air that clings to my hair and skin, of slow mornings wrapped in mist and coffee and the promise of something unknown.

    And yet, despite all this beauty — this wild, unpredictable, heart-expanding beauty — there have been moments when I have felt utterly, inexplicably stuck. As if something inside me was pressing against an invisible ceiling, a quiet resistance lurking beneath the surface.

    It never fails to astonish me how I carry every part of myself wherever I go — every fear, every belief, every invisible boundary I have ever built. 

    In the past five months, I’ve found myself face to face with an unfamiliar stillness, a startling absence of the urge to chase something new. It lingers like a question I can’t quite answer, so foreign that I wonder if I’ve misplaced my ambition entirely.

    I used to think that growth meant running toward something new — more freedom, more success, more peace. 

    But I’ve learned that the most important work isn’t in the external shifts, but in the quiet, often uncomfortable act of meeting yourself where you are and asking: 

    What is actually keeping me here?

    I recently ran a free challenge to help you find clarity in your life — over 100 people joined (you can, too) — and the most common struggle you shared was this: 

    How do I uncover my limiting beliefs when I can’t even see them?

    That’s the thing about the patterns that hold us back—they exist in the shadows, shaping our choices without us even realising it. It’s an inside job, and our limitations are often our biggest blind spots. 

    That’s exactly why I created Aligned —a deeply supportive, transformative space designed to help you move through those hidden limitations in a way that feels pragmatic, expansive, and fun. Because real change doesn’t have to be heavy—it can be meaningful, energizing, and deeply freeing.

    Doors close in 10 days, and there are only 12 spots available per group.

    Hit reply if you’re on the fence, or sign up here.

    the simple process I use for shifting limiting beliefs

    1. identify my current challenge

    The first clue that I am operating from a limiting belief is the sensation of being stuck. That heavy, unmoving energy that tells you something isn’t working but doesn’t quite reveal why.

    For me, in those first few months in Ericeira, I felt a deep-seated fear that no matter how much I expanded, I would always find myself circling back to the same struggles—uncertainty about what I was supposed to be doing, my business growth, and the question of whether I was truly doing enough. 

    It was familiar, frustrating, and maddeningly persistent.

    I had to sit with it. To acknowledge it and feel it.

    TIP 1: Instead of trying to bulldoze through it, pause. What’s the exact problem? Name it. Be as precise as possible. The more clarity you bring, the more power you have over it.

    2. taking ownership without shame

    What I discovered was that, after years and years of living the life I had dreamed of, my dreams had run dry. 

    I was out of alignment with who I am, and what I wanted because I didn’t believe I was worthy of having big dreams anymore. I discovered that I am someone with enormous desires. Desires that I had squashed.

    Career-wise, I blamed the algorithm (it’s changed so much!), the economy (people are spending less!).

    And then! My 12k Instagram account was hacked and then stolen from me. A decade of work, gone overnight!

    But the truth? None of that was the real reason I felt stuck. 

    The real reason was that I was clinging to old stories about my worth and ability, stories that whispered: You have to work harder to deserve more. You have to struggle for this to count.

    Taking ownership didn’t mean blaming myself. It meant acknowledging that if I was the one unconsciously building these walls, I was also the one who could tear them down.

    TIP 2: Here’s where it gets tender: can you take full responsibility for your current reality—without shame, without self-punishment? Can you look at the patterns that have led you here with compassion, rather than criticism?

    3. seeing the invitation for growth

    I know — even though, like all of us, I often need to be reminded — that my biggest frustrations are signposts pointing me toward the exact lesson I need. The solution is always to lean in and ask: What is this here to show me?

    The moment I did, things shifted. I saw how my limiting beliefs weren’t just abstract ideas—they were running the show. Success requires struggle. Ease is irresponsible. If you slow down, you’ll fall behind. And I realised: these weren’t truths. 

    They were choices.

    TIP 3: The blindspots are the areas in life we are not in alignment with because we have limiting beliefs around them. Your mind is powerful. It will always find evidence for what you believe. The good news? You get to decide what to believe next.

    4. embrace the ripple effect

    I am going through growing pangs. This is an opportunity to build something even stronger. It’s a painful shift, but these moments create space for new approaches that end up being more aligned.

    I am valuing myself and my work in ways that I should have a long time ago, but did not, because I did not believe I was enough. This shows me that my external reality was only ever reflecting what I believed to be true about myself.

    TIP 4: When you start dismantling the old stories, your life shifts in ways you can’t yet see. The work you put in today—challenging your beliefs, choosing different thoughts, moving from a place of trust instead of fear—will show up in unexpected ways. New opportunities. Conversations that change everything. A lightness you can’t explain.

    This morning I woke up, warm after many cold nights, my hair stuck to my face.

    It’s one of those mornings where everything feels a little lopsided. 

    My soy milk has curdled so I can’t make myself a matcha and have to settle for a herbal tea. My dentist appointment is cancelled because the dentist is ill. I am relieved because I don’t feel like walking the 20 minutes in the torrential downpour anyway. I journal.

    Your life is always responding to you. And if you want something different, you don’t have to work harder, force it, or prove yourself. You just have to start believing a new story — and living from it as if it were already true.

    I am learning, awkwardly, how to embody the new version of myself that I am becoming. Anticipation builds alongside the next steps life is revealing to me.

    TIP 5: What makes this process so transformative is that it moves us from feeling powerless to feeling deeply, profoundly capable. When you stop trying to change everything outside of you and instead start working on what’s within, everything shifts.

    If you’re considering joining me for either ALIGNED OFFER (business-focused) or ALIGNED ACTION (life-focused), now is the time. Doors close in 10 days, and there are only 12 spots available per group.

    LEARN MORE HERE

    If you’re unsure, email me — I’m happy to help you decide.

  • everybody has a different story

    …and you know you want to live yours

    I never planned to be here.

    It’s 7.34, and the sun is just starting to peek over the hill covered in tall buildings that shadow the village in the mornings. I am cross-legged on my sofa, wrapped in a blanket grateful for the ache in my chest that arrives whenever I sit, fingers softly poised above keys, ready to pour all of myself into the words on a page. I can hear the waves crashing onto the shore 300 metres from my balcony and the washing machine slopping wet dirty clothes around inside itself.

    What I did plan on is to feel alive.

    To me, Ericeira smells like sea salt and algae. It smells like fishing lines and burnt coffee. Most days the humidity is around 90%. It feels like walking through a neverending water wall. Mostly infiltrated by people not from here this winter the streets have been silent. The locals shuffle through their days in their unhurried solitude. The cold, humid ache that goes deep into my bones is interspersed by warm sunny hours in the middle of the day.

    Here, my everyday life is quiet.

    When I arrived I had followed something in my body that told me ‘not here’. A subtle disquiet that had been with me. Because place matters. But I had decided to stop planning and start living without knowing how this story ends.

    It brought me here.

    For so much of my life, I thought that to live a meaningful life I needed to choose my steps carefully. That it would all unravel and fall apart if I wasn’t meticulous in my decision-making and planning. It’s me and the world. I am alone. I don’t have a family to fall back on. There is always some risk involved when I do anything new and I am acutely conscious of the fact that I lack a cushion to rely on if things go wrong. Which they do.

    Frustrated with living in fear I cultivated a new approach.

    What I discovered was that there is a state of alignment you can reach in which magical things will start happening for you. I often call it kismet but really, it’s being in a relationship with the dynamic aliveness of life. Once I figured out how it worked I was able to relax and now have a lot of fun inviting that kind of serendipity into my decision-making processes and day-to-day life.

    I have very literally been in the business of living in alignment for years and I still need reminders that the way I move through life is enough.

    It’s no surprise. The rampant roar of the outside world is strong. It overpowers the subtle nudges and the cultivation of inner stillness necessary to enter into alignment. Despite years of evidence that living in alignment works I still have times of doubt and uncertainty. I have had to learn how to stay centred and not let that derail me.

    I have to be resolute in my devotion to alignment.

    I’m teaching exactly how I do this — both in my life; and in my business — across 6 weeks starting on Monday, March 10 2025. There are only 12 spaces in each cohort. Join me for ALIGNED, here.

    I could never have planned the life that was waiting for me.

    I left England last year because it dimmed my light. I was becoming someone I didn’t recognise. I had outgrown my environment and had become complacent and indolent in every area of my life. I was out of alignment. This misalignment isn’t just uncomfortable – it’s costly. It drained me of my energy, dampened my creativity, and held me back from the life I was meant to live.

    But I know I always have a choice.

    So I left and it took me on a misadventure through the Mediterranean Sea where I was redirected to a village by the Atlantic Ocean where I fell in love and am now moving to New York. I could never have planned any of this. But life, in its mystery and intelligence, did. All I had to do was let go of trying to control the uncontrollable and get into alignment instead.

    Choosing change is hard. Choosing a new story without knowing how it ends is even harder. But when you choose alignment, life moves you to where you are meant to be with so much grace and ease, that the obstacles on the way no longer matter. 

    They don’t go away. But they become insignificant in comparison to the bigger vision. The project of living your most alive, vibrant, dynamic and meaningful life.

    Aligned teaches a dynamic way to live and work in alignment, where action flows from clarity, trust, and surrender.

    ALIGNED is not just one program — it’s two distinct pathways, running simultaneously, designed to support you based on where you are right now.

    • ALIGNED ACTION is for you if you are ready to transform your personal life — activating changes in relationships, career, purpose, and finances with trust and confidence.
    • ALIGNED OFFER is for you if you are ready to build or grow an online business — creating offers that sell with ease, alignment, and momentum.

    Both programs follow the same structure but focus on different areas of life. You’ll be part of a powerful container with daily insights, live workshops, and a supportive community—all guiding you toward aligned, inspired action.

    LEARN MORE & JOIN HERE

    I don’t know exactly what is next.

    What I do know is that as long as I remain aligned, life happens for me. Things that I can never imagine or plan or prepare for. Things I hope and dream for but only reach when I move into alignment and let go.

    As these winter days and nights come to an end and spring starts to make itself known in the slightly longer and warmer days I relish the tiny moments. 

    Some afternoons I see the locals leaning out of their windows watching the world pass by and if we have crossed each other often enough we smile and nod. Bright purple and yellow wildflowers are beginning to cover the cliff edges facing the restless Atlantic Ocean reminding me of the dynamic nature of life. The damp air as I walk home in the evening carrying dates from the organic market and I look up and see the stars. A luxury that is here and won’t be when I leave.

    I can’t wait to see how this story continues.

  • 3 lessons…

    to remain centred and grounded no matter what is happening around you.

    It’s the last day of October 2024. The veil is thin. The spirits and ancestors are calling my name.

    I ask them.

    What do I need to know, for the next steps of my life, now?

    They reply in chorus.

    What will I sacrifice to receive the gifts I long for:
    love,
    truth and
    happiness?

    I always sacrifice the same thing.

    The illusion of certainty, of a guaranteed reality, a blind belief in absolutes.

    I sacrifice the comforting fantasy that I understand the world and know what will come next. In doing so I am liberated from despair and disbelief every time the world changes.

    Because when you are so close to the nexus of your soul it’s easy to remain centred and grounded no matter what is happening around you.

    They gift me 3 lessons.

    ☾

    1. Love

    The spiritual path, at its true essence, is the path of love.

    But like the universe itself—ever-expanding, ever-evolving—our understanding of love’s expression must also transform.

    When I first threaded spirituality into my life in my early twenties, it was all about detachment: being the witness, the observer, the one who floats above life’s currents. We thought enlightenment meant watching life unfold from a safe distance, like viewing a play through opera glasses. How naive we were, how incomplete our understanding.

    My ancestors chant.

    The veil has thinned not just between worlds, but between being and doing.

    Spirituality has metamorphosed from observant to immersive. From ‘being’ love to ‘acting’ from love. From theoretical to embodied.

    Their question echoes with each heartbeat:

    How are you, as a spiritual being wearing human skin, actively engaging with life? Now? And now? And now? Are your actions in alignment with your thoughts, your words, your essence? The question persists like a pulse: Now? And now? And now?

    There’s not much room left for lies in this new spiritual landscape. Incongruence burns like acid on bare skin. I feel it in my bones when my actions betray my truth.

    The ancestors whisper.

    True spirituality isn’t about escaping the human experience—it’s about diving deeper into its waters, letting every wave of emotion and experience wash over you while keeping your heart open and your spirit anchored in love.

    Like the ancient Sufi mystic Rumi once wrote: “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

    In this age of quickening, love demands more than passive observation. It demands action, engagement, embodiment. It asks us to be both the lover and the beloved, the observer and the observed, the dancer and the dance.

    ☾

    1. Truth

    Truth begins at home, in the sacred temple of self.

    For eleven years, I’ve walked the path of the independent creator—mentor, writer, artist, weaving stories and wisdom into the world’s tapestry.

    The ancestors echo.

    This truth is both ancient and immediate: your feminine power, your creative force, your accumulated wisdom—these are not merely gifts to be scattered like seeds in the wind, but precious medicines to be properly valued and consciously shared. The old way of endless giving must transform into mindful offering.

    I feel resistance rise within me. A part of my spirit wants to create endlessly, to pour forth like a spring, making everything freely available to all who thirst. But the ancestors remind me: that even the most sacred springs are often protected by temple walls.

    The ancestors tell me to listen carefully.

    Your work needs more structure now. Put your best writing behind a paywall—people value what they pay for. Keep sharing some content freely to draw in those who resonate, but make your deepest insights exclusive. Create a clear journey for your people. Your time is finite. Your energy is precious. Your wisdom is valuable. Price it accordingly.

    True abundance flows not from endless giving, but from rightful exchange. When I value myself appropriately, I teach others how to value themselves. When I protect my energy wisely, I show others how to honour their own boundaries. When I price my work consciously, I demonstrate that spiritual wisdom and material respect can dance together in harmony.

    This is the new paradigm of feminine leadership: not the martyr who gives until she’s empty, but the woman who knows her worth, the creatrix who channels her gifts with discernment, the wise woman who understands that proper boundaries don’t limit her light—they help it shine more brightly.

    ☾

    1. Happiness

    The ancestors laugh.

    You cannot create on the outside what you haven’t first embodied on the inside.

    I understand now. I’ve been trying to force my environment to match my longing for idleness. This approach caught me frantically rearranging my external world to create space for stillness.

    I must first learn to be idle within myself, even amidst activity.

    To cultivate that sense of unhurried presence in my own being, regardless of external circumstances. To embody that quality of being “gloriously, unapologetically present” in my own nervous system before I can manifest it in my life.

    Just as I became my own anchor, I must become my own stillness.

    It’s about transforming my internal relationship with time, productivity, and presence. About being able to walk slowly even when the world runs, to remain unhurried even amidst deadlines, to stay connected to that deep current of peace even when the surface of life ripples with activity.

    The ancestors nod.

    The outer world will reshape itself once you’ve reshaped your inner landscape. But you must do the inner work first. Always first.

    ☾

    The veil is thin and with it old illusions fall away.

    My ancestors’ gifts are living instructions for navigating this complex world.

  • 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

  • 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’.

  • do you need that?

    There are 7 billion people on planet Earth. Seven billion ways to enjoy each other, to connect to spirit, to see colours, to succeed in life, to be happy.

    13 years ago, I went to India by myself, for the very first time.

    I packed a bag, filled it with what I thought I needed most: clothes, shoes, a couple of books, a notepad and journal, and my laptop, kissed my boyfriend goodbye and boarded a 9-hour flight to Delhi.

    I started in Goa — to soften the culture shock — where I spent three weeks acclimating, naval gazing and pondering the life I had lived so far.

    Then I wandered around the steaming backwaters of Kerala, climbed the tea plantations in Tamil Nadu, sat in meditation on the ancient ruins of Hampi (still one of my most precious memories of my entire life) in Karnataka, and did a 10-day silent retreat.

    Two months passed.

    Every day, I carried my bag of things from train to bus to hotel to yard to street to car etc. Across those two months, I noticed something unexpected.

    I did not use most of the things I thought I would need.

    Then I spent a week with two sisters who were famous wedding dress designers in Delhi. They let me stay in their apartment in a gated community and showed me India from their perspective. The world has as many faces as it has people.

    There are 7 billion people on planet Earth. Seven billion ways to live, to love, to work, to create, to exist.

    I asked them if I could leave the bag I was travelling with, with them, and they generously agreed. I wanted to try an experiment. I went through my things and with each item, I asked myself…

    Do I need that?

    I ended up with a large handpainted sheet and a light sarong I had bought from a street seller, a cashmere blanket shawl, a handful of cosmetics: toothbrush and paste, a mini shampoo and conditioner in one, a face oil, some coconut oil for dry skin, a kohl pencil and mascara I had bought in a tiny shop crammed with too many things. Plus the five outfits I was wearing on repeat, seven knickers and a couple of bras, one pair of shoes, one book, my journal and a pen.

    No phone.

    Back then Nokia phones were still the mainstay and I had unintentionally left mine at the Vipassana centre in an ethereal trance after calling my boyfriend to tell him I no longer wanted to be together.

    Everything fitted into a school backpack I had picked up at a market a few days ago.

    I kept a small woven handbag with my purse, water bottle and snacks to the side.

    On the day I left for Rishikesh, I lifted my much smaller bag on my back, feeling light and unencumbered and said goodbye to the sisters.

    For the next two months, I travelled north India with only those things.

    They were the happiest two months of my life.

    I had everything.
    I needed nothing.
    There was no fear of loss because I had nothing to lose.

    Whenever I am unhappy now, I ask myself…

    Do I need that?

    And let go of anything excess.

    I also ask myself…

    Do I have to?
    Is it actually true?
    Could there be another way?
    What would happen if I just… stopped?

    And act on the answers to shift my trajectory back to happiness.

    There are 7 billion people on planet Earth. Seven billion ways to enjoy each other, to connect to spirit, to see colours, to succeed in life, to be happy.

    The key, I think, is to keep asking these kinds of questions.

    To stay awake and curious, not complacent. It’s so easy to get lulled into the undertow of “what everybody else is doing.” (And what everybody else is “feeling” and “insisting” and “offering” and “saying.”)

    What about you?

    Is it true?
    Do you have to?
    Do you need that?
    Could there be another way?

    There usually is, if we open our eyes and minds to the possibility.

    There are 7 billion people on planet Earth. Seven billion ways to make money, to root yourself in nature, to move your body, to receive love, to market yourself, to be.

    You get to choose how you do it. And maybe show others the options they have for themselves.

    Love,

    Vienda

     

    P.S. Enrolment for The Mentor Training closes in exactly one week, on Tuesday 31st.

    Fun fact: most people who call themselves coaches are actually mentors! Here’s why.

    With The Mentor Training mentoring becomes a professional paid service, that isIICT-accredited for holistic practitioners, alternative therapies and leaders with unique and non-conventional skill sets and values who want an intuitive and practical framework to hold space for, lead and guide others.

    Enrol here, or book a final chat for me to answer all your questions this Thursday.

     

    P.P.S. A reminder:

    For all of us, our life is rooted in the principle that whatever hurts other people hurts us; that injustices experienced by others are also injustices experienced by us.

    None of us can truly be free and fulfilled unless we work toward the goal of ensuring everyone is free and fulfilled.

    These are not vague abstract ideals. They’re the central source of our soul’s code and how we organise our beliefs, emotions, and actions.

  • the medicine of opposites

    When we don’t have enough money, enough love, enough joy or pleasure… when our core needs are out of balance, what do we do?

    I spend a lot of time looking for ways to bring harmony and balance into my life. I can hold a greater capacity for more, bigger, beautiful, evolving and confronting experiences because I reach for the medicine of opposites.

    It’s a concept that originates in both Ayurveda, the principle that “everything can be medicine” and Traditional Chinese Medicine, the basic idea of the ‘yin- yang theory’.

    Ayurveda recognises that our daily choices and lifestyle habits have the potential to influence our overall balance and promote homeostasis. Like increases like, and opposites cancel each other out. It is natural to warm ourselves when it is cold, to moisturise our skin when it is dry, to eat cooling foods when we are hot, and to need more rest when we are stressed.

    TCM nods to the two natural, complementary and contradictory forces in our universe, the principle of opposite polarity and duality. The meaning of yin and yang is that the universe is governed by a cosmic duality, and sets off two opposing and complementing principles or cosmic energies that can be observed in nature. Yin and yang elements come in pairs. The moon and the sun, female and male, dark and bright, cold and hot, passive and active, and so on. It is believed that to be healthy, one needs to balance the yin and yang forces within one’s own body.

    This is not only true for our bodies.

    It’s true for our minds, thoughts and as a result life experiences as well.

    At its very core the medicine of opposites states that all is energy and all energy needs to be in balance to achieve well-being. The theory is all-inclusive, intuitive and seated in your own inner knowing.

    Everything has inherent qualities of polarity in its energy.

    The magnificent miracle of life is that we are essentially tiny oceans bound by skin somehow walking around having conversations, inventing smartphones, writing on the internet, reading memes and spending far too long watching cats do weird stuff.

    The water in our bodies is balanced out by the hardness of our bones. That’s the medicine of opposites at work. Otherwise, we would be highly sophisticated slugs.

    This medicine of opposites plays out in every sphere of life. We are living in a world of interdependence.

    Applying the medicine of opposites to our challenges, how do we intentionally harness this cosmic principle to bring about positive changes and in essence, more harmony in our lives?

    When we don’t have enough money, enough love, enough joy or pleasure, a sense of direction, stable health and wellness, a life that we adore, the perception of belonging, feeling connected to something larger than us… when our core needs are out of balance, how do we find that balance again?

    We do the opposite.

    — When there’s something we want to avoid, we lean into it.

    — When we feel financial lack, we seek abundance in our lives.

    — When our intuition has abandoned us, we repair our connection with it.

    — When we want more of something, we find out where it already exists.

    — When creatively stuck, we don’t give up, we summon our inner muse.

    — When life feels like it’s ending, we recognise the cyclical nature of it.

    I teach the concept and application of the medicine of opposites in my work. It’s the primary principle of my approach in life. Life topics covering: money, creativity, intuition, manifesting, starting life all over again (renewal), and running a heart-led online business…

  • where have all the grown-ups gone?

    Maybe protracted adolescence is the anxious state of millennial life.

     

    “I hate it when people call me on the phone,” I say between bites of a cheeseburger I had pulled the top off, sitting on a wooden bench outside a British pub opposite a good friend. It was a warm early summer’s eve and we had slipped out to have ‘girl time’ while baby and baby-daddy stayed at home. She nodded in agreement, laughing, the bubbles in her champagne uplifting spirits.

    “Sometimes the calls are from people I actually want to hear from and I still avoid them. And then have to call them back.”

    She giggles. “It reminds me of this meme I watched about how different generations open the door. The millennials are the only ones who want to crawl away and hide.”

    “That actually makes me think of this tongue-in-cheek article I read about how the ’90s was the best time to be alive and someone in the comment section added that they felt like there are no grownups left anymore.”

    “Right?! Who is coming to handle things and sort this world out?!!” We laugh.

    But it’s something I can’t stop thinking about and talking to anyone who is willing to. Where have all the grown-ups gone?

    On one side we have shrugged off many of the markers that have traditionally defined adulthood. Owning a home, a car, having children, staying in the same company and progressing through it over a long period of time… This may be due to constrained monetary realities but, more broadly, there’s an attitudinal sea change evident here.

    Even those of us who do eventually have any and all of the above continue to focus on things unseemly in previous generations like prioritising lifestyle and living in the present and determinedly throwing ourselves into our passions and turning them into “dream jobs” at the cost of said markers.

    We are stressed and confused but we are also very interested in the social justice system, a stronger healthcare system, the environment… all those things have pulled us to the traditional political left.

    Politically millennials aren’t moving to the ‘right’ and to a more conservative mindset as is common with age. That’s just not happening for us. Partly because we are not acquiring those markers but also because we are just not thinking with that conservative mindset which could be seen as not thinking in a very ‘adult’ way.

    This disinclination to grow up is reinforced by popular culture and technology. Our millennial lives aren’t stacked with a lot of adulthood or the perception of being adults. We didn’t change our behaviour at all when we moved into a much more adult stage of life marked by something like having a child or buying a house. We keep living the way we did in our 20s but will bring our kids along. We are able to devote our attention and income to self-improvement and self-indulgence almost exclusively.

    In that conversation in the setting summer sun outside over burgers, I brought up the idea of how the loss of ‘the village’ meant that we were never initiated into adulthood because we were not tied into those kinship and tribal systems that previous generations were.

    Our parents became unstuck from the village but they still had remnants of that experience remaining and remembered models of that. Then we failed to grow up because the ones who were supposed to show us how did not. They did not know how to or that they had to or were not there.

    As adolescents, we entered a globalised world and often moved away and travelled for various reasons which meant that the village is now gone and we don’t have any memory of it.

    Perhaps we could argue that if you destroy or abandon the village adulthood becomes untethered as well.

    We imagine a world where no one is in charge and no one necessarily knows what’s going on, where identities are in perpetual flux.

    The world is our playground, without an adult in sight. And we’re largely okay with that.

  • This is 39.

    this is 39 — Vienda Maria
     
    Growing older is such a luxury and honour. Every year I become more myself, stronger, softer, wiser, kinder, happier, I let go of and move with things easier. This year was one of my favourite birthdays yet surrounded by friends, new and old, by the sea in the sun, laughing a lot.
     
    There’s a really powerful shift that happens when you embrace exactly where you are. No chasing other things/places/people. Not wishing they were different. Fully allowing yourself to be exactly where you are and celebrating the eternal motion of life.
     
    When people ask me what’s next my answer is always “I’m enjoying what’s right in front of me. That’s where I believe life gets really good.”
     
    At 39 I have lost the care for counting years in numbers. Instead, I want to count the number of times my heart swelled with love, the times I lived fully in rapturous joy, the times I broke down in tears and fell apart entirely succeeded by a new version of myself. I want to measure my life by my ability to stay soft when things are hard, to approach things gently when they are sharp, and to choose trust and tenderness in any conditions.
     
    Over my lifetime I developed a high resilience for uncertainty. At first by circumstance and later by choice and further on by habit I chose uncertainty in my home environment, in my work, in finances, in relationships. The more I stripped away at the external sense of certainties the more effectively I was able to anchor myself in my centre letting go of the illusion that anything is for sure.
     
    Over the past 2 years, the rebuilding began for me. It feels so good to be able to create and fully grasp this physical life in both hands without attachment, treading through it lightly. Once nothing was left I had everything to play with without the illusion is that things are solid in their certainty.
     
    It is an illusion that has melted for many of us this year.
     
    There was an innocence to the beginning of this year that none of us can ever reclaim. A hopeful naivety. We were invincible in our optimism that things would continue the way we know them. There was no hint of how the year would unfurl. No evidence of the ways it was yet to break us open and the ways we would have to stitch ourselves back together again, never quite the same as before.
     
    While not much makes sense right now I know that this is happening for us. It’s a coming of age for all of us as a society. A chance to strip away the stuff that made our foundations weak and crippled our society. An opportunity to burn it all down. We are creating space to rebuild a new way of life.
     
    I feel so strongly that the air is thick with thousands of new different ideas and new ways of living and doing life right now. So much is coming through.
     
    We are being propelled forward. We don’t have time to indulge in the unhelpful dogmatics like our fears and pity ourselves or play the victim game. We have to continuously clear all the ego-debris that comes up along the way to keep the space open and be a clear channel for what needs to come through.
     
    These past months and those going forward I am keeping tremendous amounts of time and space open for me to hear the new ideas, concepts and ways of being to allow them to drop in so they can move through me.
     
    One of the huge pieces that I feel is being released collectively right now came through yesterday around working hard and doing things that create socially valued results and how we can start doing work and showing up in a way that is entirely new. I think the concept of jobs as we have known them is starting to fall away.
     
    Ultimately amongst all this, I feel a sense of vulnerable patience knowing what really matters is moving with this stream of the unfolding of my life and trusting that while we don’t know what is next, or how it is all going to pass, it is all exactly as it should be.
     
    This is 39. I like it here.
     
    From previous years:
    This is 38.
    This is 37.
    This is 36.
     
    Photo by Ste Marques