Justine Corrie- Psychotherapy & Transpersonal Integration

Justine Corrie- Psychotherapy & Transpersonal Integration Contemplative psychotherapist & systemic facilitator working at the intersection of embodiment, ecology & ritual.

Online, Somerset & at Bjärkan Resilience Project in Northern Sweden. I offer confidential & supportive Psychotherapy and Couples Counselling in Bruton, Somerset as well as 1:1 & Group Mindfulness classes. I work from a private, peaceful self-contained garden cabin with it's own parking and entrance.

I’ve just come out of three days of systemic ritual training with Daan van Kampenhout, immersed in the landscapes of the...
01/10/2025

I’ve just come out of three days of systemic ritual training with Daan van Kampenhout, immersed in the landscapes of the soul. We worked with a map that orients the soul in four directions — the individual soul, the family soul, the tribal or group soul, and the collective human soul.

Each of these layers of soul holds stories, inheritances, wounds, and longings. And each one can be a place where loss occurs. When I look at the interconnected crises of our time — ecological, social, cultural, and spiritual — they can be seen as forms of soul loss in these four domains. A forgetting of who we are as individuals. A rupture in the bonds of family. A disconnection from tribe, community, belonging. A fracture in the great weave of our shared humanity.

Yet there is also movement. These domains are not fixed; they form a cycle, a flow. What is lost can be remembered. What is broken can be tended. The soul is not a static possession but a living current that moves us through different seasons of belonging, separation, and return.

To sit in ritual with these questions is to touch both the grief and the possibility of healing — for ourselves, our lineages, our communities, and for the wider human family.

On my way to the Systemic Ritual training in Berlin, I was met by a hooded crow.This module with Daan van Kampenhout is ...
30/09/2025

On my way to the Systemic Ritual training in Berlin, I was met by a hooded crow.

This module with Daan van Kampenhout is about Body & Soul — individual, family, tribal, collective. We are listening for what has been left out, working with what longs to return, tending the places where pain and belonging meet.

The crow followed me for a while. Then we stopped together. We stood in the quiet of the morning, taking each other in.

Grey and black, liminal by nature, it felt like a companion for this journey — a reminder that soul so often comes to meet us in the in-between places, asking only that we pause long enough to notice. &soul

At Barrow Castle for the final module of my Diploma in Supervision This year-long journey with the Centre for Supervisio...
24/09/2025

At Barrow Castle for the final module of my Diploma in Supervision

This year-long journey with the Centre for Supervision Training and Development in Bath has been rich, challenging, and deeply rewarding. I’ve loved opening my practice to supervisees and stepping more fully into this role.

The grounds here hold something of the spirit of supervision itself — wide, spacious, and steady. A place to pause, reflect, and gain perspective. Feeling grateful for the learning, the holding, and the unfolding. 🌙💫

Hathor, carved here in her cow form at Hatshepsut’s temple in Luxor, Egypt, carries an ancient face of the feminine. She...
12/09/2025

Hathor, carved here in her cow form at Hatshepsut’s temple in Luxor, Egypt, carries an ancient face of the feminine. She is the nourisher, offering milk and protection — and she is also the ecstatic, goddess of music, dance, and intoxication. In her paradox we glimpse a truth the psyche remembers: the feminine is not one thing, but a constellation of opposites.

In depth psychology we might say she holds both the archetype of the Great Mother and the initiatrix into joy. She teaches that nourishment and delight are not surface experiences but gateways into soul — dissolving us, reshaping us, leading us deeper into life’s mysteries.

Hathor whispers across time that the feminine is not only found in care or sacrifice, but in beauty, pleasure, and the fierce medicine of joy.

In a quiet, hidden corner of Karnak stands the Temple of Seven Gates. I sought it out, drawn by my love of thresholds an...
09/09/2025

In a quiet, hidden corner of Karnak stands the Temple of Seven Gates. I sought it out, drawn by my love of thresholds and the ancient stories that circle around them.

In Mesopotamia, the goddess Inanna descended through seven gates into the underworld, surrendering jewels and robes at each threshold until she stood naked before her shadow. A story of dying to the old, and being reborn anew.

Here in Egypt, too, the soul was imagined as a traveller through gates—each one a portal of testing, of courage, of transformation—before arriving at the heart of the divine.

Seven gates. Seven thresholds. To me they speak of our own initiatory path: the stripping away, layer by layer, until only what is most essential remains.

To sit with women on the land.Swim in the waters of the moon.The pulse of the drum a shared heartbeat.Between silence an...
11/08/2025

To sit with women on the land.
Swim in the waters of the moon.
The pulse of the drum a shared heartbeat.
Between silence and song,
our bodies tell the stories of Woman.
The old ones gently invite us —
into the earth,
into the waters,
into the fire,
into words carried on the air.
Moving in kairos time.
Tears of the ancestors are shared in this moment,
from long-ago times.
Our soothing words travel all the way back,
the gentlest whisper:
We are with you.

Stillness is not empty — it’s full of becoming.This midwinter, join us in the far North for a retreat shaped by snow, si...
29/07/2025

Stillness is not empty — it’s full of becoming.
This midwinter, join us in the far North for a retreat shaped by snow, silence, and soul.

Into the North is a 5-night gathering at Bjärkan in Swedish Lapland — a space to pause, reflect, and gently step into the new year with presence.

No pressure. No planning. Just deep rest, firelight, ritual, and the quiet wisdom of winter.

🗓️ 30 Dec – 4 Jan
🔗 Only 10 places: bjarkan.org/intothenorth or link 🔗 in bio

Love in the long run is not what we’re sold. Culture sells us “love” as a noun — something you find, fall into, get give...
29/06/2025

Love in the long run is not what we’re sold. Culture sells us “love” as a noun — something you find, fall into, get given. Something that stays magical if you choose the right person.

But in real life, long-term relationships are more like a cauldron. They bring up all our old hunger for the mythic promise of perfect belonging. All the places where we still hope someone will fill the hole in our heart, soothe the child who wanted unconditional attention and holding.

It’s here, in the day-to-day ordinary, that love has to become a verb. It means staying. Staying with the hard conversations. Staying with the boredom, the irritation, the raw vulnerability that inevitably comes up when we risk letting someone all the way in.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not the heady rush of early infatuation, moments of depth connection, tenderness and romance do emerge — and they feel all the more precious for being grounded in something real.

Mature love isn’t numb resignation, nor is it endless fireworks. It’s refusing to flee when things get hard. It’s refusing to slide into chronic disappointment and distance. It’s the ongoing, imperfect practice of presence, repair, and returning.

It asks more of us than our childish selves want to give. And yet in that crucible, something else is born — a sturdier, wilder, wiser love. A love that grows bigger than our hunger, and slowly teaches us how to give.

Endlessly sharing traumatic content is not the same as creating change.There’s a difference between being informed and b...
24/06/2025

Endlessly sharing traumatic content is not the same as creating change.

There’s a difference between being informed and being flooded.
Many of us scroll through heartbreaking stories and images — of war, injustice, ecological devastation — and feel that if we don’t share them, we’re being complicit. That if we do, we’re “doing something.”

But our nervous systems aren’t built to metabolize constant exposure to raw pain, especially at a distance and with no outlet for meaningful action. Over time, this can lead to numbness, despair, or burnout — not engagement.

When we’re flooded, we’re less likely to act with clarity, less likely to listen, less likely to sustain our care over time. Flooding doesn’t mobilise. It immobilises.

True change asks for something else. It asks for attunement — to ourselves, to others, to the complexity of what’s happening. It asks for capacity, not just outrage. It asks us to discern when we’re sharing to connect, and when we’re sharing to offload our own dysregulation.

This isn’t about turning away. It’s about turning toward, with intention and care — so that our hearts stay open, our actions stay grounded, and our presence can actually be of service.
And yet, we’re being told that if we don’t speak publicly — instantly, performatively, in the correct tone — we’re complicit. That silence equals violence.

But social media is not a safe or sufficient container for the depth, nuance, and grief these conversations require. It reduces everything to optics and soundbites, and punishes ambivalence, complexity, and the slow work of genuine inquiry.
This is how fear works in a system that feeds on division, anxiety, and hypervisibility.

This is how death-driven capitalism co-opts our care — turning it into content, outrage into metrics.

We need to stop mistaking visibility for accountability.
We need to stop outsourcing our moral integrity to algorithms.

We need to build other spaces. Spaces rooted in relationship and repair. Spaces where multiple truths can be held, where listening is as valued as speaking, where grief is not flattened into hashtags, and where silence can be a sacred pause — not an absence of care.

Not all resistance looks like speaking out online.

Sometimes it looks like refusing to be swept up in the speed of harm.

There’s a particular kind of field that opens when we gather with intention — not just to speak, but to listen.To the an...
09/06/2025

There’s a particular kind of field that opens when we gather with intention — not just to speak, but to listen.
To the ancestors.
To the patterns that move through families, generations, land.
To what’s ready — finally — to be seen, felt, honoured.

This is the kind of work I’m called to hold.
And it rests on deep roots.

Fourteen years as a psychotherapist.
Ten years holding groups.
And the last four in ongoing apprenticeship and depth training in systemic constellations and ritual.

It’s careful work. Slow work.
Held with respect for what is bigger than us — the mystery, the lineage, the field.

In May, a group came together in Frome to do this work.
The reverberations are still moving.

I’ll be holding mire workshops this autumn.
If you’d like to receive the details when they’re released, you’re welcome to join my newsletter via the link in bio.

Into the North – A New Year’s Wintering RetreatBegin the year in deep rest and quiet renewal. Into the North is a soulfu...
03/06/2025

Into the North – A New Year’s Wintering Retreat
Begin the year in deep rest and quiet renewal. Into the North is a soulful wintering retreat at Bjärkan in northern Sweden — a place to exhale, to let go of what’s done, and gently welcome what’s to come.

With a very spacious schedule, we’ll gather around simple practices to release the old and invite in the new — through ritual, reflection, nature, and community. There will be time to dream, wander, write, sleep, and just be.

Optional outdoor adventures include snowy forest walks, cross-country skiing, and the chance to witness the northern lights. Evenings invite warmth: wood-fired saunas, hot tubs under the stars, nourishing meals, and deep stillness.

A soft beginning to the year. A time to winter, together.
Link in bio for details ❄️🌲🖤sweden

I’m deep in a grief ritual training with Francis Weller right now—held in the soul-soaked language of the long dark.This...
17/04/2025

I’m deep in a grief ritual training with Francis Weller right now—
held in the soul-soaked language of the long dark.

This is not the darkness to rush through or avoid.
It is the old dark.
The fertile, holy, aching dark.

Here, grief is not a problem to be solved
but a form of praise.
A love letter to what we’ve lost,
what we’ve longed for,
what we carry in our bones.

This work is a remembering.
Of how grief and gratitude live side by side.
Of how the soul ripens through sorrow.
Of how we are meant to grieve together, not alone—
with song, with earth, with ritual, with witness.

It weaves through all I offer—
in 1:1 spaces, in circles, in quiet conversations—
this tender devotion to soul-tending
in a time that asks so much of us.















Address

The Cabin, 25 Uphills
Bruton
BA100ES

Opening Hours

Monday 9am - 8pm
Tuesday 9am - 8pm
Wednesday 9am - 6pm
Thursday 9am - 6pm
Friday 9am - 6pm

Website

https://linktr.ee/justinecorriepsychotherapy

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