Celynn Morin · Wellness Professional

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Celynn Morin · Wellness Professional

Dedicated to helping you and your teams enrich quality of lives, using proven frameworks, lead vibrant teams with confidence, a healthy mindset and joy.

HI, I'M CELYNN
I help business leaders and their teams who are challenged by stress to enrich the quality of their lives; to have more energy; to sleep with ease and to feel more in control of their physical, emotional and mental health. This provides countless benefits such as improved productivity and engagement. I have a unique style that includes a joie de vivre rooted in curiosity, connection, community and celebration! I save you time through micro-learning; ensure behavioural change through interactive and somatic teaching style; save money through proven frameworks, based on science and simplicity; and offer convenience through providing holistic solutions from a single source. I will help you to lead by example as you inspire others to look after their own well-being, inspiring a corporate culture of extraordinary, high-performing, healthy and engaged teams.

04/01/2026

I’ve launched a Substack called Midlife Memoirs with Coco.

It’s a real time journal of midlife, memory, perimenopause, family and reinvention.

The first piece begins with a moment that asked more of me than I expected.

This isn’t a monologue.
If it resonates, walk alongside me.

Link in bio or search Celynn Morin in Substack 👍🏻

03/01/2026

I dropped a bottle of wine.
It shattered. Fully. No rescue.

“Don’t cry over spilt milk” is one of those phrases that sounds sensible until you’re standing over the mess. Glass everywhere. Dark liquid soaking into the ground. A small but undeniable moment of loss.

My first thought surprised me.
“This feels like an offering”

The last time I poured wine into the earth deliberately was in the south of France, during a ritual of forgiveness linked to the Cathars. That was conscious. This was not.

Why do offerings matter at all, especially if you’re not religious or into spiritual rituals?
Because an offering interrupts our instinct to cling.

We live in a culture that teaches us to fear scarcity, to replace, hoard and control. An offering does the opposite. It says, I can let this go. I trust that what I have is enough. I don’t need to grasp.

What struck me was that I didn’t need the wine. I usually buy one bottle from this particular place. This time I had two. One broke. One remained. Enough.

It reminded me of the biblical story of manna in the desert. Take only what you need for today. Trust that tomorrow will bring its own provision. The teaching was never about scarcity. It was about trust.

We forget that easily.
We overstock. We over-prepare. We panic-buy certainty, like toilet paper in a pandemic, hoping abundance will make us feel safe.

Maybe that’s what offerings are really about. Not spirituality. Not sacrifice. But practising release. Letting the earth receive something back. Allowing loss to soften us rather than harden us.

Not everything that breaks is a mistake.
Some moments are simply reminders to loosen the grip and trust our daily bread.

Sometimes the offering chooses itself.

30/12/2025

I didn’t know exactly where this door leads. But I trusted the direction and crossed the threshold.

As we arrive at the threshold of a new year, everything is about to speed up.
The year of the Horse.
And with AI galloping ahead, the world will only get faster.
Momentum. Movement.

Which makes the moment of the next few days, and moments like it, even more important.

I walked into the cellar at , a Champagne wine farm in France. The beauty inside struck me as much as it must have for the monks that built and used it.

Sparkling Champagne is not rushed.
It rests. It ferments quietly.
The most precious part of the process doesn’t happen in the light. It happens underground. In the dark. In stillness.
Pressure builds slowly. Complexity develops.
Only then does it sparkle.

Real restoration and growth works the same way.

Before we race outward.
Before we perform, produce, and push.
Before we gallop and race.
There is deep value in going inward.
In choosing depth over noise.
In allowing the unseen work to mature us.

And not just now, at the turn of the year.
But often, over the next 52 weeks.

Find your sanctuaries of stillness.
A place, a practice, a way to pause, where you can step out of the gallop and back into yourself.

Sometimes the wisest thing we can do is step inside.

22/12/2025

I entered something close to an embryonic state again.

Warm. Weightless. Held.
No light. No sound. No gravity pulling anywhere.

The flotation pool contains nearly 900 kilograms of salt, almost a ton.
So you don’t try to float. You simply do.
Your body is supported without effort.

And that matters, because we live in a world of constant stimulation.
Light. Noise. Decisions. Screens.
Even when we think we’re resting, our nervous system is often still on alert.

Flotation gives the brain and body a rare message. You are safe. You can let go.

With sensory input reduced, the system downshifts. Stress hormones ease. The mind slows. Many people enter deep theta brainwaves, the same state linked to meditation, creativity and flow states.

The first time I floated, I was struck by how busy my thoughts were. This time, they softened. Then disappeared.

What remained felt like the void. Spacious. Still.
For me, it felt like being held by nothing. And by everything.

I suspect the difference came from the meditation practices I’ve been doing, particularly those inspired by Joe Dispenza, which focus on moving beyond the thinking mind into a more expansive state of awareness.

This kind of rest isn’t indulgent. It’s reparative.
Especially for people who live in their heads and carry a lot.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do for our wellbeing is not add more.
It’s remove everything and dissolve for a while.

I’m curious. Have you ever floated? Or experienced another kind of rest that genuinely changed how you relate to your mind?

Thank you for the recommendation of .paris

13/12/2025

I booked an Airbnb without realising that when I woke up, I’d be overlooking a vineyard.

Barefoot, I walked towards the vines. I’ve been grounding a lot lately and it’s been making a real difference, but that’s another story for another day.

As I approached, something stopped me. The view in front of me was almost identical to an image I’ve had on my vision board for years. One I’ve meditated on countless times. Same angle. Same feeling. Same sense of spaciousness.

I was struck by awe and gratitude. A quiet reminder of how powerful our inner world can be. How long-held visions and desires can find their way into reality. Not always quickly. Not always directly. But often more faithfully than we realise.

I placed my hand on my heart and leaned against a tree. Just then, the sun broke through the clouds and swept across the vines and across me.

I cried. Not from sadness, but from wonder.

What I didn’t know at the time was that someone noticed I was having a moment and they quietly captured it. So now I have a photograph of that exact instant. Me, the vines, the light, the pause.

And now that image gets to live on my vision board.

A real moment, captured, becoming a bridge between imagination and reality. One more step closer to making this landscape my home, in the fullest sense of the word.

As I wrapped up and turned to leave, I met the vineyard owner walking towards me. We ended up having one of those conversations that feels synchronistic. Otium Wine Estate are launching their first sparkling wine next year and planning to host corporate events.

Who knows. I may not live on a vineyard yet, but I have a strong feeling I’ll be bringing a leadership team to in 2026.

This week reminded me of something simple and important. Don’t lose hope when what you’re visualising doesn’t arrive on your timeline. Pay attention to the moments that show you you’re still on the path. And when they come, pause long enough to let them land.

Sometimes the magic is the moment itself. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, someone witnesses it too.

12/12/2025

It’s 5.30 on a Friday.
And this is what I need.
Wine. Crisps. Zero apologies.

Confession. I absolutely choose wine by the label.
Yes, I know what I like. Full-bodied. I’m happy to pay for depth.
But this one. I had to have it.

The Tower. 2022.
Because… have you seen the world lately?

For those unfamiliar with tarot symbolism. The Tower is all about old structures falling down. Truth bombs. Sudden change. Ego collapses. Necessary resets.
Basically. “This no longer works, love. Time to rebuild.”

Which feels… on brand.

And then there are the crisps.
I almost never buy crisps. Ever.
Yet here we are. 🤷‍♀️

Lately I’m also getting random urges to play Pac-Man for hours.
So I’ve decided to stop questioning it and just… cooperate.

Because what we resist persists.

And I’m not resisting my hormonal curiosity, my nervous system, or my inner 18-year-old who clearly wants salt, carbs, nostalgia and a decent glass of red.

Cheers to small comforts during big collective plot twists.

May your Tower moments come with snacks. 🍷🥔

05/12/2025

Over 80 percent said yes and showed up. That alone tells a story.

Last night something quiet and powerful happened. Women from South Africa, across Europe and the UK gathered online, yet the moment we arrived it felt like we’d stepped into the same room.

A room where you exhale and remember yourself again.

We lit a candle to open the circle. A small flame, but a clear signal. We are here. We are present. We are together. We blew it out at the end, closing the space with intention and in between those two moments, there was a whole lot of honesty, wisdom, laughter, tenderness and truth.

Women are craving places to be witnessed. To speak without performing. To soften without apologising. To meet one another across generations. And to rest for a moment in a space that asks nothing of them.

What unfolded was exactly what we had hoped for when we dreamed the Bounteous Gatherings into being. A space held with care. A space to breathe. A space to feel bounteous again.

After we closed, our phones lit up with messages like, “That was the best hour I’ve spent in months.” Notes filled with relief, gratitude and the sense that something in them had softened at last.

This is why we gather.

And this is only the beginning. Clair and I are already dreaming into what comes next. More circles. More bounteous spaces where women can be held, witnessed, nourished and reminded of their own brilliance.

Watch this space.

The next Bounteous Gathering is already forming.

04/12/2025

December can drain you or delight you.

The difference is how you move through it.

We’re at that time of year when so many people are living for the moment they can finally “clock off.” For some it’s Christmas Eve. For some its earlier.

The longing for the break becomes the soundtrack of December.

And yet, the things that actually restore us aren’t waiting for us at the end of the month.

They’re hiding in the tiny pauses we skip past.
The breath we don’t take in fully.
The moment we forget to notice.
The lack of eye contact when greeting someone.

Life is lived inside the breaks.

Not only in the big ones, but the small ones we allow ourselves along the way.

And December actually gives us endless invitations to take them.

Every time you notice twinkling lights.
Every time you hear a toast or see a raised glass.
Every time you catch a soft moment, even in a busy room, when your shoulders naturally drop for a second.

Those tiny shifts matter.

A single breath won’t change your life, but thousands of them will.
A small pause won’t fix your fatigue, but a lifetime of returning to yourself in tiny moments absolutely does.

December can absolutely be draining and depleting.
Or it can be restorative, grounding, delightful in the simplest ways.

The month hasn’t decided that for you.
You get to decide it, moment by moment.

And no, you don’t need to be thinking about 2026 right now. We’re meant to live here. In the tiny moments that remind you you’re human.

03/12/2025

I stood barefoot in the grass this morning for the first time in weeks. 😮

I didn’t realise how long it had been. The last time my feet touched the earth was in a garden in Toulouse, about six weeks ago.

No wonder I’ve been feeling untethered.
Not sleeping well.
Heart racing at odd moments.
That strange, almost-anxious feeling, even though I’m actually joyful under everything.

It’s wild how nothing feels joyful when you don’t sleep.

This morning I went to the park and grounded. Literally. Feet on grass, sun on face, breath steadying.

You don’t need the woo to understand why grounding works.
The earth has an electromagnetic field around her. We do too. When your skin touches the ground, the two systems meet. They talk. They regulate.

You can get funky and test this if you have the equipment …
Stand in regular trainers or on tarmac and you can’t read an electric current through the body.
Stand barefoot on the earth and suddenly there is a measurable current.
It’s like Wi-Fi. You can’t see it, but it’s there whether you believe in it or not.

Grounding, forest bathing, sunlight exposure. These aren’t trends. They’re ancient human instincts. Ancient intelligences. And they work.

It’s not always convenient. The sun doesn’t always shine. Sometimes it’s cold or raining. And we psych ourselves up in the wrong direction, telling ourselves it’s too much effort.

But today wasn’t that cold.
And my body felt the difference within minutes.

Maybe this is your little nudge.
If you can, step outside. Touch the earth. Let your system plug back in.

Your nervous system will thank you.

And honestly, so will your sleep.

20/11/2025

Midlife can make the strongest woman doubt herself.

And no one prepared us for how intense that change can feel.

Over the last few years I’ve lived through waves I didn’t recognise.
 Heat, fog, forgetfulness, rage, tenderness, bone-deep exhaustion and moments of electric clarity, all arriving in the same week. Sometimes the same day.

There were moments I thought, “WTF?” “Why can’t I hold it all together like I used to?”
“What if this lasts forever?”

But nothing was “wrong.”
Midlife is a portal. 
It strips away what’s no longer true and pushes us closer to who we really are. But it can feel chaotic, frightening and lonely if you don’t have support.

What I’ve learned, in my own body and with hundreds of women, are many things but most importantly is this:
You’re not losing your mind. Resisting change and it will persist.

When we come back to fundamentals, when we have accountability, when we feel held and witnessed, everything softens.
Clarity returns.
The fire becomes useful rather than destructive.

That’s why I created the Midlife Reclamation sessions - a gentle, grounded journey for women who want to feel more “normal” again.

We work across four layers of your beautiful existance …  • Physical, what your body needs now in midlife • Emotional, releasing what’s stuck rather than exploding or imploding • Mental, calming the noise  • Spiritual, reconnecting with meaning, intuition and the woman you’re becoming

This is not a quick fix. 
If you’re in that in-between place, not broken but not quite “through the portal” yet, I have a desire and space for a few private clients.

If you want support, accountability and a steady hand and heart as you navigate this, send me a message or comment PORTAL and I’ll reach out.

You don’t have to walk this part alone. And you are not “going mad.” 
You are becoming a more truthful, beautiful version of yourself, the one you’ve always sensed was possible.

And that, dear friend, deserves to be honoured, not pushed away.

10/11/2025

This past week, I achieved the highest Pac-Man score of my life.

Also cried in a town square, used garlic oil as body lotion and stayed in my pyjamas until 4 p.m.

Midlife performance and leadership isn’t about balance. It’s about bandwidth.

Here’s the first week of November as it really unfolded for me …

November 1st - Pac-Man record – my perimenopausal escape strategy.

2nd Family gathering – three of my mother’s seven siblings now have Alzheimer’s. A reality check about time and genetics.

3rd Three pimples – hormones reminding me I’m still very much alive and hormonal.

4th Garlic oil mishap – used as body lotion and smelled like focaccia for hours.

5th Sitting under trees – nervous system reset, no app required. Do this! Forest bathing is a thing.

6th Ugly-cry meltdown – release before renewal. I use playlists to help.

7th Got lost and walked 12000 steps extra, found a free art expo – Argadol’s work lifted my spirits. Look him up!

8th Triumphant day with my parents – more smiles than sighs (and South Africa beat France in the rugby).

9th PJs till 4 p.m. – sometimes stillness is the bravest act.

10th Off to Manchester – for a leadership workshop. No, I won’t share my Pac-Man secrets, but I will share this: performance isn’t a straight line. It’s a pulse. And every one of our moments is chemistry in motion. We’re also going to explore what vulnerability looks like in wholehearted leadership.

Did you have any pimple moments or garlic mishaps this past week or other reminders that you’re human?

Let’s see and celebrate each other in our humanness!

Address

Le Cellier Aux Moines

10200

Website

https://www.celynnmorin.com/

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Celynn Morin

Celynn has been delivering workplace well-being programmes for over two decades. She is a registered dietitian and award-winning, international speaker. Celynn has co-authored two books and has developed various well-being programmes such as Performance Chemistry, Wellculator, Fit to Lead and Santé.

Celynn was born in South Africa to parents from the Champagne region of France. She is now based out of London working with clients globally.

Celynn loves champagne and considers herself an effervescent foodie; she enjoys salsa dancing, spending time in nature, and has a longstanding daily meditation practice.

Her 'raison d’etre' is to enrich the quality of people’s lives by inspiring them to take better care of their well-being in a way that is celebratory and enjoyable.