09/02/2026
The map. This map. This journey.
I bought a map for this trip, and honestly-it’s exactly what we needed.
I also grabbed a Lonely Planet for each country. Every time we land somewhere new, out comes the map and the guidebook.
The map offers choices. Where to go. Where the roads lead. What could be next. The Lonely Planet? It’s full of plans, details, and schedules innit, you could micromanage every day and every café from its pages.
But this time? I gave up on the Lonely Planets. The gal who used to treat them like bibles stopped opening them. Ali was like: I don’t know what you see in them anyway. That felt shocking to someone who lived religiously by their words.
Every year, every day I’ve been trusting my gnosis more. Softening into life’s flow.
That trust didn’t come easy. Always the “unlucky one” - do you relate? People still call us unlucky: like when we had an attempted break-in, and now our nervous systems are on high alert in wild park-ups, especially when it’s just us.
But one thing’s defo true: I trust my instincts. With my paper map I find my way back to ME both with the internal and external landscape.
So here’s a corny thought I’ve been having.
The women I work with? They’re drowning in information. Overwhelmed by the noise. I know because they tell me and I get this, too.
We have all the knowledge. 2345 reels telling us step-by-step how to do everything. But this year, we don’t need more info.
What we need is to return to our knowing, our inner landscapes, our trust that we already have what we need.
We just need a map to hold us through it all- don’t you think?
So here I am, map in hand, parked in a camper van park deciding between towns and roads.
And I help women do the same—return to themselves without the overwhelm, using simple tools that build trust.
If you’re a woman with a pelvis and ready for this journey, DM me “map” or drop a comment below. Let’s walk this path together.
