"It is foolish to think that we will enter heaven without entering into ourselves" Theresa d'Avila
I live in Liguria, Italy with my partner Ardhan and four footed animals, on an isolated olive tree farm, growing perfumed roses and golden helichrysum and creating natural produce from the land. I have undergone extensive and long trainings in many modalities, specifically with Transforming Dialogue and Shamanic Ritual Family Constellation and more recently with Alchemy and other breath work. I have been on a long journey to heal individual and inter-generational trauma with the 'brutal grace' of chronic, debilitating illness as my initiation and greatest teacher. I have a storehouse of knowledge and many tools, but it is the dark nights of the soul and 'burn out', that initiated me as a wounded and mystic healer, leading me to a path of spiritual embodiment and divine sovereignty. I now call myself a 'trauma informed, shame midwife', as I knows that all light workers and empathic souls, have a wounded healer pattern, which is about making the darkness conscious in order to be a vessel of Mother's holy grace. Relentless shadow work and belief in my own happy ending, has led me to find, that radical self trust is the gift of darkness. My mission is to help people see how they can re-invent themselves over and over. As an enlightened witness, I act as a bridge to help jump start other beating hearts, so that they reconnect with the intimate territory of their soul. Because of my own lived experience I guide others with tenderness and compassion, to reclaim their vitality, aliveness and sovereignty, to be the author of their own lives and from a multi-dimensional perspective. As one who has walked this path, I can help inspire others to see how their greatest wounds, these sacred obstacles, can and do become the golden treasure and the healing medicine they can offer to this broken world.
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I am from the seductive, isolated hills in Liguria with silver green and swaying olives, explosive yellow ginestra, intoxicating Verbena and perfumed Damascena roses that adorn my higher terraces. I am from the earth and rocks, my hands sinewed like the roots of the olives, gnarly and old, scratched to smithereens like the damaged bark bashed by excavators but stronger and more resilient than ever. I am from the simple farmers who work the land from dawn to dusk, remembering the sacred nature of our soil and the plentiful, wholesome produce, that responds just like my four footed companions, to the love and respect it is offered. Simple pleasures they may be but in my personal and cultural madness, I had forgotten my roots, lost touch with my own cycles and rhythms, how my very own terrain is intimately connected to the web of life. I am from the hidden, dilapidated rustico, that is a dark, yet fecund space of pure potential, asking to be restored, longing to be recognised for the divine womb space that in its moist darkness, will offer unlimited potentials to all who have ears to hear and eyes to see. I am from a prayer uttered from the depths of my being, that called me to this land ten years ago, a soul whispering I chose to listen to. I am from Pozzuolo here in Italy, that is my soul home, where I know every rock and tree that exists, every stone that has been built by strong male hands to create structure and safety in this womb haven. This land, this sacred task that has demanded blood, sweat and tears, every ounce of my creative initiative and finance, while I screamed at the unfairness of what was being asked of me, that has miraculously brought me back to my body and to my sanity. I am the land that I naively came to conquer in my own version of toxic patriarchy, now re-shaped and modelled after stamping HER feet, teaching me about humility and devotion. Ruthlessly beautiful and refusing to be dominated. I am from Mother Gaia, reminding me with her green outpourings in the smell of the damp moss, the succulent taste of the prickly pears and figs, the lovemaking of the bees, to be here right now, honouring, in reverence for HER, for the HOLY grace that she has always poured on me and on the world. |
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