Justine Corrie- Psychotherapy & Transpersonal Integration

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

15/04/2025

“She knew that hope and healing comes from the stars and trees and tides…”

This altar is a place of remembrance. A threshold where I listen for the voices of those who came before — grandmothers of blood and spirit, wild ones, bone carriers, and seed keepers.

Each element speaks: skull and flower, stone and fire, feather and thread. In this weaving of symbols, I find my way back to the deeper time — to the wisdom that lives beneath the noise of now.

May we all have places where we can meet our ancestors — and be met in return.

03/04/2025

Still in Berlin, soaking in sun and spring after an incredible module of the Systemic Ritual training with Daan van Kampenhout—this one centered on grief and loss.

We were 60 humans from all across Europe and beyond, gathered in ritual to listen, honour, and remember. Grief showed up in many forms—tears, silence, laughter, breath. It was personal, collective, ancestral. And it was held.

Grateful. Moved. Softened.

19/03/2025

Coming up on May 24th - already half the places are gone - 6 places left. My last workshop sold out so if you’re thinking of joining please do book! Would love to see you there.
What Previous Participants have said:
“A powerful, well-held and beautifully choreographed day.”
“A great day which touched a deep sense of soul”
“Justine gently, firmly & seemingly effortlessly navigated whatever emerged from the constellations.”
“Simply Amazing. Justine is a true master in her craft.”

25/02/2025

There are stories buried in the body, stories that predate our personal biographies. They move like underground rivers, shaping the landscapes of our lives, surfacing in ways we often don’t recognize—patterns of anxiety, a sudden grief that doesn’t belong to us, an ache in the heart that speaks a language older than words.

Family Constellations and Systemic Ritual invite us to listen to these subterranean currents. They offer a way of seeing that is more than psychological, more than therapeutic—it is ancestral, mythic, deeply woven into the fabric of the more-than-human world. This work is not about fixing, but about remembering, about tending to the tangled threads of belonging that stretch across time.

The Work of Family Constellations & Systemic RitualThere are stories buried in the body, stories that predate our personal biographies. They move like underground rivers, shaping the landscapes of our lives, surfacing in ways we often don’t recognize—patterns of anxiety, a sudden grief that does...

28/01/2025

🌿 Discover the hidden dynamics shaping your life and connect with the wisdom of your ancestors at this Family Constellations & Systemic Ritual Day Workshop.

📅 15th February 2025
📍 RISE, Frome
Spaces are limited—book now.

👉 [Link in bio]

Explore hidden dynamics and ancestral wisdom to uncover pathways of healing and transformation.