Vienda Maria

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Tag: relationships

  • you might fall in love on an ordinary Thursday and move to New York six months later

    you might fall in love on an ordinary Thursday and move to New York six months later

    …an honest letter about starting over in the world’s most famous city

    After a month in New York, I’ve concluded that it really is like living inside a movie. Yesterday, walking through the West Village, we passed one of the leads from YOU and that comedian my boyfriend calls “the ‘I’m a swan!’ guy.” I wouldn’t have recognised either of them, but he’s a pop culture encyclopedia, which I find endlessly entertaining.

    The most charming thing about this city is how hard it tries not to be American. It’s clinging tight to its immigrant roots, claiming the most obscure and beautiful bits of the many cultures that built it.

    In the vlog above, you’ll get a glimpse of my first chaotic, cosy, overstimulating, sunshine-filled weeks in the city, from yoga class revelations and focaccia-making to lazy girl makeup rituals and navigating PMS in a place that never stops buzzing. I reflect on how long it takes to feel grounded somewhere new, what I love about NYC (surprise: the water??), and the tiny wins that help me find my pace in the madness. 

    I came here with the intention to document it all. To share the magic of experiencing everything for the first time. But the truth is, while I love it here, I don’t have as much space or time as I once did. I used to languish in my creativity — let it ooze out of me like molten lava. Now, I live in a studio apartment on the Lower East Side with my boyfriend (who also works from home), and the luxury of spaciousness just… isn’t available right now.

    Which means two things: one, I need to carve out more time and space that’s mine, and two, I need to learn how to create within the chaos. To let inspiration move through me, even in the chaos and noise.

    Something is changing in me. I’m becoming someone I don’t quite recognise yet.

    Usually, I’m a step ahead of life. I can see what’s coming. But right now? Life is a step ahead of me. I’m being asked to trust. Not because everything is certain, but because I can.

    People often ask how I’ve built such deep self-trust. The answer isn’t about what I’ve done differently. It’s about what I’ve let go of.

    My self-trust lives in the space I’ve cleared for it.

    In my early twenties, when I was stumbling through my first spiritual awakening, I discovered — quite accidentally — a clearing process I now call the RRRRI Method:
    Reflect · Review · Release · Replace · Integrate.

    I’ve taught this to hundreds of clients.

    It came to me one night, maybe 15 years ago, while I was lying in bed meditating. I was new to it then, but it gave me a peace I hadn’t known before. A quietness that made space for things to rise up. The kind of space that lets truth speak.

    I carried around a lot of pain.

    My mum struggled with depression and anxiety, and as a sensitive kid, I absorbed much of it, believing it was mine. My dad died when I was ten. My stepdad, who entered the picture when I was four, was cruel, verbally and emotionally abusive. At one point, when I was six, he made me live in a caravan outside while the rest of the family was in the house. My mother joined him in the abuse. She told me later she thought siding with him would make it easier on me. 

    That’s the surface-level story, and honestly, it’s not the point. I share this not for pity, but to offer context — to show you the shape of the beliefs I had to unravel in myself.

    Maybe you’ll recognise some of them:

    I am not wanted.
    I am not lovable.
    I am not safe.
    I have to do it all alone.
    I can’t ask for what I need.
    It’s not safe to speak up.
    I must not upset others.
    There’s something wrong with me.
    I have to hide who I really am.

    That night, in meditation, I felt frustrated. I kept circling back to these painful memories. It felt like I couldn’t move forward. And suddenly, a thought came:

    These memories aren’t hurting me. I’m hurting me — by replaying them.

    They were still active in me because they were unresolved.

    I realised that every emotional block, every limiting belief, is just an unprocessed experience we’ve held onto for safety. At one point, those beliefs helped us survive. But they outlive their usefulness. And instead of releasing them, we keep them close out of habit — or fear — and they start to manifest in our lives, in our bodies. As pain. As illness. As stuckness. As stories we can’t seem to rewrite.

    That night, I didn’t get caught in the stories. I just let the feelings rise. Memory after memory. Sadness, anger, grief — I let it all come, and I felt it. Fully. Until it softened. I cried for hours. I forgave myself. For how I had carried it all for so long.

    And something in me shifted.

    Over the days and weeks that followed, I kept practising. Feeling. Releasing. Replacing. Integrating. And little by little, things began to change. I lost the extra weight I was carrying. My skin cleared. My eyes were brighter. My relationship to food, to my body, to myself softened. I began to like who I was. To see my own beauty, not just my flaws. Life itself looked and felt different.

    And now? I teach that same method inside The Way She Knows. 

    Because when you begin to clear out the old noise — the stories, beliefs, and inherited patterns that were never truly yours — you don’t just feel lighter. You feel free. Free to trust yourself. Free to choose what’s true for you. Free to follow your feelings without needing to explain, justify, or prove a thing.

    From that place, life starts to unfold in the most unexpected, beautiful ways. You stop gripping for control, and instead start co-creating with the world around you. You stop chasing clarity, and somehow, it finds you.

    You might fall in love on an ordinary Thursday and move to New York six months later. (That’s what happened to me :). You might find yourself changing careers, shifting relationships, saying yes to things you once feared, and letting go of things you thought you needed — not because something’s wrong, but because something inside you has become deeply right.

    When you trust yourself, you don’t need to have everything figured out. You just need to listen. You need to stay close to that quiet knowing within. And when you do, the next step always reveals itself.

    That’s the way she knows. And it’s already inside you.

    Come join us.

    We begin on Monday, May 26th, enrolment closes Friday, May 24th.

  • 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’m moving to New York

    i’m moving to New York

    kind of, maybe, not really…? I really wanted to write that to see how it feels in case it turns out to be true 

    FEB 18, 2025

    I’m sitting on the Ikea sofa in his living room, laptop balanced on my knees, pretending to work. Through the open door to his office down the hallway, I can hear his voice, steady and methodical, as he speaks with the electricity company to cancel his contract. Each call makes his impending departure feel more real.

    The day we met he told me he was moving to New York in the new year. At the time it meant nothing. I was talking to a stranger on the wooden bench outside a cafe window.

    But as coffee meetings evolved into sunset walks through cobblestone streets, as dinner dates transformed into intimate evenings on his sofa, as casual conversation turned into “Will you be my girlfriend?” – that once-insignificant sentence took on a weight I hadn’t anticipated.

    He’s preparing to leave the country at the end of March. I’m not built for long-distance relationships – I’m either fully present or completely absent. So I am joining him a few weeks later.

    One day, a few months after meeting, he was excitedly speaking about New York as we wove our way through the alleys to our favourite Saturday breakfast spot for coffee and cinnamon rolls. In my luteal phase, my emotions already simmering close to the surface, when tears welled to the surface.

    We had discussed it before. 

    He had asked me to join him with such natural ease as if it were the most obvious next step. I had always dreamed of spending three months in New York – to live there permanently? I wasn’t certain. But to discover its hidden corners and explore its endless possibilities? Absolutely.

    But that morning, as my hormones conspired against me and left me feeling raw and vulnerable, all I could focus on was how this was his adventure, his dream. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might be merely a footnote in his story. In that moment, I grieved for something I hadn’t yet lost.

    I tried to compose myself in private, but the wave of emotions was too powerful to contain. Through tears, I confessed that while I was genuinely happy and excited for him, hearing him talk about New York made me feel like an afterthought. Unused to and ill-equipped for such feminine displays of emotion, he panicked, genuinely confused – because in his mind, there had never been any question. We were going to New York, together. That was the only version of the future he had envisioned.

    I needed reassurance, more than I wanted to admit. I found myself losing an internal battle between soaring excitement and crushing doubts.

    Now, as our departure date approaches and our relationship has deepened with time, I feel more secure in the future we’re creating together. Today, when he looked at me with bright eyes and said, “I can’t wait to see what we create together!” I felt my heart lift with joy.

    Still, I oscillate between hopes and fears. Perhaps you, dear reader, if you’ve made New York your home, can offer some guidance.

    My excitement and hopes bloom:

    • I dream of losing myself in the halls of the Met, discovering hidden galleries in Chelsea, hunting for treasures at Brooklyn flea markets, and immersing myself in the vibrant, multicultural tapestry that is New York City. Every corner holds the promise of inspiration.
    • The thought of the connections waiting to be made sets my heart racing – the artists, writers, dreamers, and doers all within reach. I plan to approach each day with intention, cultivating a diverse and inspiring circle of kindred spirits.
    • I envision this new chapter expanding my creative horizons, opening doors I never knew existed, and forging connections that could transform my work and life in unexpected ways.
    • Each morning will bring new possibilities – a different neighbourhood to explore, a new face to become familiar, another layer of the city to uncover and make my own.
    • I believe in a kind of magic that happens when you’re perfectly aligned with your path. I’m curious to discover what shape that magic takes in a city of eight million stories.

    Yet my fears and doubts cast shadows: 

    • As a highly sensitive extroverted introvert, I quickly become overwhelmed by excessive stimulation. When surrounded by too much input – noise, movement, energy – I need a quiet space to decompress and reset. I worry about finding that sanctuary in a city that famously never sleeps.
    • My soul craves warm sunshine, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the rhythmic sound of waves – none of which New York is particularly known for. Where will I find those moments of natural peace that keep me grounded?
    • In a city consistently ranked among the world’s most expensive, I fear financial pressure might force me into a “hustle culture” I’ve intentionally avoided. I believe in working with purpose and alignment, not from desperation.
    • The heaviest weight on my heart is finding a new home for my cat, Danger. This separation might be temporary, or it might be permanent – the uncertainty makes it even harder. He’s been my constant companion, but I can’t bring him with me, and I can’t let his needs become the anchor that holds me back from this adventure.

    If you’re reading this in Europe and have space in your heart and home for a loyal ginger cat who gives his affection selectively but completely, please reach out. He needs a peaceful environment, ideally with a garden, and he’ll reward you with unwavering devotion.

    Life has a way of surprising us with unexpected turns. Moving to New York after my lease ends in April wasn’t part of my plans (though a psychic I’d quickly dismissed had predicted exactly this last August). But I love to embrace life’s kismet redirections.

    I don’t live by carefully crafted plans but by my unwavering belief that “something will happen.” Something always does.