Back To Yourself - Alexander Technique, Energy work, Modern meditation

18/11/2025

https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/orizzonti/id1683581802?i=1000733129823

Podcast Episode · Orizzonti · 23/10/2025 · 58m

17/11/2025

Shedding the Old Skin — A Medicine of Transformation.
I was born on the 1st of November — the Day of All Saints — at the threshold where life and death meet. Maybe that’s why I feel this so strongly in my bones: transformation is my medicine. It’s the language my body speaks, the path I walk, and the work I offer.
We are always changing, whether we like it or not. We shift energy, soften and harden, rise and contract. Our bodies are water and memory, constantly reshaping. And when we live ecstatically — when we breathe fully, feel deeply, and stay close to truth — we can delay the aging of the surface while letting the wisdom inside us ripen. Even our grey hair carries messages if we’re willing to listen.
I often think of the scorpion.
It is born soft, pale, trembling — carried on its mother’s back. For weeks it travels there, learning through touch, through the tender map of her body, protected until its first molt.
And then, quietly… it splits open.
A new armor forms. And again, and again, this ritual repeats — each time, to grow, it must surrender the shell that once kept it safe.
The scorpion teaches us that transformation is an act of love — fierce, unadorned love for life itself.
What once protected us — control, silence, vigilance — can become too tight. Too small. Growth asks for a shedding. For a softening. For the courage to unclench what we once held close.
This is the medicine I teach. This is the medicine I embody.
If this speaks to you, I’d love to share the journey:
Free online meditation every Thursday at 3:00 PM GMT
1:1 sessions available
Group programs returning January 2026
If you feel the stirrings of your next molt, your next becoming — come join me. The path is always softer when we walk it together.

01/11/2025

Happy Samain

Poem: Song of the Ancestors
Written By Laura Weaver
for Elder Malidome Some

Tonight the ancestors circle close—
and candles flicker between worlds
where souls pass to and fro.

I have heard them coming and going –
murmuring prayers, humming songs
that come from the center of the earth.
*
There are those who tend the portals
through time. There are those who dwell
in the canyons, caves, and lakes who sing
the whole world into being
again and again.

There are those who hold the drumbeat
through the rise and fall of empire
and sit at the loom at the center
of the universe to weave the next story.

Tonight the ancestors circle close—
and we who have forgotten how
to tend the holy are being asked to remember.

To clear the patterns that have twisted
the essence of our lineage.
To make amends.
To bring honey and balm to the places
in ourselves that have carried
wounds and atrocities.
To call down the blessings of the line
that reimagines itself through our living.

Some say all the pains of the world,
all the great imbalances of our time
come from the restlessness
of the unrecognized ancestors.
And some say that all the beauty
of the world comes from the visions
of the descendants, calling us forth.

For we too will pass in and out
of bodies—through the hallways of time.
We will be called upon by our grandchildren’s
grandchildren—to light the way a while
with the lantern the size of the moon.
We will be asked about the magic of old—
that most ordinary magic
of seasons and light and seeds.

Tonight, the ancestors circle close –
and our hearth fires speak in their tongue.
Lay the table with marigold and pomegranate,
with scarlet leaves and gourds. For together
we are already dreaming the next year’s arc.
Together, we are already dreaming
the story to come.

©Laura Weaver

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31/10/2025

Remembering the Ancestral Way

To remember is to return — to the ancestral way of thinking, to the rhythm of a mind that listens rather than conquers. In this remembering, we are asked to approach life with vulnerability, respect, sincerity, and humility. We are invited to trust the unknown and to rediscover the sacred movement that lives within us.
Our ancestors understood evolution not only as a biological process but as a spiritual unfolding — the constant becoming of life through relationship and awareness. The greatest wisdom, perhaps, is to maintain the innocence of the child: that untainted wish, that openness to engage with the world without the armour of preconception.
Yet much of our collective pain comes from a wounded innocence — a deep mistrust of the heart’s own purity. We forget that innocence is not ignorance; it is the truth-movement of the spirit, the unfiltered spark of intention that makes connection possible. This innocence forms the foundation of interconnection — the dream of co-creation that sustains all life.

The Living Relationship of Existence
Each of us contributes to the collective field. We can live in a way that is beneficial, nurturing, and alive — or we can withdraw from the process, becoming compost for what comes next. Either way, we are participating.
Embodiment turns concept into experience. To live with awareness is to allow the human spirit to shine its face even in adversity. Excessive comfort weakens our capacity for growth; it dulls the edges that shape us into mature beings. Challenge, by contrast, strengthens our emotional and ecological intelligence, reminding us that resilience grows from friction.
A small seed pushes through layers of soil to find light — just as the human soul struggles through its own layers of memory, pain, and protection to rediscover connection. Nothing truly begins; everything continues. We live in constellations of memory, energy, and meaning.
When we open to the deeper structure of human consciousness, we see that love is both balm and fire — it heals, but it also burns away what is false.

Honoring the Ancestors
Our ancestors hold no agency unless we acknowledge them. The living and the dead exist in a field of mutual recognition; without it, the cycle of belonging remains incomplete.
To keep the living truly alive, we must reintegrate what has been excluded — the forgotten, the rejected, the unseen. Every part of life seeks inclusion. What has been hidden or denied must be welcomed back into the family of belonging, so that the greater system may heal.
The movement of the soul cannot be forced. Like a river, it flows when it is ready. Our task is not to rush it, but to listen — to make space for its natural unfolding.

The Inner Explorer
At some point, our attention shifts from the external to the internal. A vague awareness lingers until we accept that our discomfort is an invitation. When we begin to explore, we dissolve old structures, uncover defences, and allow transformation to take root.
To witness oneself — to step outside and look with compassionate curiosity — is to enter the realm of the explorer. This work requires vulnerability, a safe membrane where growth can occur without collapse. Within that space, we meet our limits, our patterns, our disassociations — and we begin to imagine an upgraded version of ourselves, one that lives from integration rather than avoidance.
Patterns may persist, but our relationship to them changes. The outer form remains, yet the inner dance evolves.

Join us in person at the Studio In TW1 London ...
November 30th from 10am to 1.00pm

21/10/2025

Listening to the Body’s Transmission

My physical body is my transmitter of thoughts — the vessel through which my inner life takes form in the world. It speaks in the language of sensations, in whispers and pulses, in the warmth of expansion and the contraction of pain. My body is always communicating, always honest, always immediate. When I turn away from its messages, it reminds me — sometimes gently, sometimes with ache — that I have forgotten to listen.

I notice how my body carries me: tall and light when I am in flow, heavy and sluggish when I am disconnected. Its movement reveals the truth of my inner state long before my mind can name it. Even in stillness, there is movement — a hum beneath the surface, a quiet rhythm of being that keeps me anchored in the present moment.

There are times when I ignore its wisdom — when desire or habit lead me to indulge beyond nourishment. My digestive system, that subtle messenger of balance, tells me when sweetness becomes excess, when pleasure turns to numbness. Yet even in those moments of indulgence, I am learning not to judge, but to listen. The body speaks not to punish, but to guide me back to wholeness.

As a body-oriented facilitator, I am in deep gratitude for what my body offers me: its resilience, its intuitive knowing, its constant dialogue between tension and release. Awareness through movement is a sacred practice — a conversation with the intelligence of the body. Sometimes it moves me into wild expression; other times, it leads me into stillness so profound that breath itself becomes a teacher.

This body is my human form in this lifetime — the home of my consciousness, the bridge between spirit and matter. Control is not domination but flow; it is the art of allowing. In the softness of awareness, I feel cozy in my own skin, exploring the landscapes within. When I talk to my body, I meet all my parts — the curious, the tired, the indulgent, the alive — and I offer them compassion.

There are sensations that arise — pulses of energy, waves of dullness, sparks of pleasure. I meet them all with a simple yes. Acceptance becomes communion. Even a glass of wine, sipped in awareness, becomes a celebration of life’s sweetness — a moment of connection between body and soul.

To live in the body is to live in dialogue with existence itself. It is to remember that every movement, every breath, every ache is an invitation to listen — and to return home

18/10/2025

from our TheoryU-lab journalling circle today. Thank you to all participants... the prompt was "what I truly desire "...

Transparency
Transparency, desire, belonging.
Stop kidding me with lies that belong to us all —systems that pretend to care while they destroy. Not transparent enough,not being human as nature is.

I desire reverence toward all that is more than human. Respect toward nature — the only kingdom that ever was.
As I breathe between wind and word,I hear the heartbeat of the forest, its roots connecting to my heart.
I belong in the silence, in the courage of roots spreading under the earth where no economy, no geography, no politics divide.

There is an inner system —blood in my veins flowing like rivers that remember their source and meet the ocean without fear of its vastness. In that embrace, we belong as one.
Our voices unburden, unify, transparent as light through the trees's branches casting shade, not to hide but to rest, to pause. To stop the misinterpretation, to be unafraid of being different, to stop fulfilling others’ needs and take space —to listen, to create.

Let me go deeper into my body,into the body of nature —into the pulse,the streaming of life in dust and stone,in belonging as one,in stories of ancestors reminding me to change the story,to renew soil and soul, to touch the cracks where wisdom of the future takes root.

We acknowledge the wounds of the past,and as one planetary body we carry healing, love, time —the legacy of wounds,the resilience of history —letting it merge with our purpose.
Transparent in listening to the movement of healing, the self-healing mechanisms acting through me.The dance of beauty, the blessing of grace, a gesture —a wave in the sea of being —so the children of tomorrow can feel the breath of the falling leaf.

14/10/2025

The Realms of the Systemic Field
In systemic and family constellation work, what we touch and feel in physical reality often shows us exactly what the system is ready for us to attend to. Yet beyond what is visible, there is another layer of experience — a dimension that holds what has been forgotten, unseen, or left behind. Some call this the Knowing Field — a living field of awareness that connects us to a greater intelligence and to all that exists beyond our immediate perception.
Refining our sensitivity to this field asks that we pause and listen. In that stillness, the mind softens and our inner senses awaken. Through presence, we begin to recognize the subtle movements of life within and around us. This moment of listening reveals our unique vibration — the qualities that make us who we are.
As we attune to these inner movements, we may notice how energy flows or becomes interrupted. Tension, fear, insecurity, scarcity, or illness can all be signs of a flow that has been disturbed. By approaching these places with curiosity and compassion, rather than judgment, we allow more information to unfold. The longer we stay present, the more the field reveals what needs to be seen.
Our body is the primary facilitator in this process. It is the bridge between worlds — the translator of sensations, emotions, dreams, and impulses. Through the body, we access our instincts and our capacity to act, to choose, to respond, and to transform. It is both guide and ground as we travel through the layers of our experience.
The systemic realm carries the pulse of our ancestry — the stories, traumas, and blessings that flow through generations. Within this realm, we encounter both remembering and forgetting, both belonging and exclusion. As we bring gentle awareness to what has been hidden or denied, we create space for integration, healing, and reconnection.
Beyond this lies the disincarnate realm — the space of what has lived and passed, yet continues to nourish us. Here we find the wisdom of those who came before and the quiet strength of all that has completed its cycle. This realm anchors us, reminding us that life and loss are inseparable, and that both serve the unfolding of our soul’s journey.
✨ Join us for an exploration of the Knowing Field
Sunday, October 26th | 10:00 a.m. – 1:00 p.m.
Experience a guided journey through the body, emotion, and systemic awareness.
Sign up at www.backtoyourself.com/events

08/10/2025

Dear Friends
I have those free events , join if you feel the call…. If you feel interested in attending on Thursday I will share the zoom link

As soon as we pause and turn our attention to the structure of the body—becoming aware of the relationship between the moving body and the self, of the responsive interplay between body and earth, self and environment—all inner and outer conflict begins to dissolve. We start to flow with the movement of life itself, moving forward and upward with ease, joy, and grace.

The physical and emotional health benefits of cultivating integrity—both inner and outer—transform the way the body and mind function. A sense of harmony arises, and the natural process of healing begins.

Whether you are new or experienced in the worlds of Alexander’s principles, Movement Shiatsu, or meditation, no matter where you find yourself in life, this process has a remarkable way of meeting you where you are and gently guiding you toward your fullest potential for expression.

Everyday movement often relies on intense muscular effort. In the Alexander Technique, we explore how this effort can be transformed into a state of delicate poise and balance—an equilibrium of forces created through the subtle interplay between our sensory and motor systems, allowing all unnecessary muscular tension to fall away.
In meditation, we seek the stillness within this movement—the quiet center from which true ease and awareness arise.
Your only task is to be open—to time, and to the welcoming of the unknown.
We meet every other Thursday at 3.00pm BST starting back on the 9th of October.
Looking forwards to being together in the inner silence of presence.

I also have a free event taking place on October 16th “When ancestors move through us .

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07/10/2025

A psychological perspective on the theatre of lies

29/09/2025

A Yoga Retreat with a Gesture
It was intensely beautiful to be reminded that we are the pure intelligence of the cosmos — and from that space, there is nothing else that holds equal importance.
Arriving at Torre Colombaia, in San Biagio della Valle near Marsciano, Italy, I was overcome by a sense of stillness and quiet.
The peace felt almost overwhelming, especially after coming from Florence, where mass tourism filled every corner.

Adjusting to this calm was not difficult; it was exactly what I was seeking. I was looking for a place to heal — to rest within the grief that had shaped the last eight months of my life.
Grief is difficult to describe, as each of us experiences it differently. For me, it can be told through a small story:
As a child, you walk peacefully along the seashore. Suddenly, a large wave you hadn’t noticed knocks you down, taking you by surprise. You fall, drink a little salty water, and find yourself sitting in the sand as the water recedes around you. After a pause, you slowly rise and resume walking.
That is grief — it arrives unexpectedly and takes you under, until you find your way back to standing again.

There were forty of us gathering together to explore the intimacy of life through yoga. In that exploration came the awareness that perhaps we are out of alignment with the cosmos. Collectively, we mirror the turmoil of global politics, allowing what is not beneficial to enter our field until, somehow, it transforms into fear and pain — into regret and desire.
Acknowledging emotions such as anger, fear, grief, and pain — both physical and mental — cannot dissolve instantly. The seeker within us does not rest, and the grief that entered my body and soul felt like a poisonous snake — its venom both poison and cure.
Turning off the switch of the mind is easier said than done. Yet, through the practice of breath and movement, the mind gradually quietens. Awareness opens; tears and pain are released, rising and falling like the sun that sets and returns.
To seek active intention is to observe where tension lives in the body — where the breath does not flow freely. We invite that flow along the spine, awakening the life force.

Our habitual responses often bring us to false solutions — patterns of doing and beliefs that obscure our inner truth. It becomes essential to notice the influence of the collapsing outer world and how our own feelings contribute to that collapse. We begin to find ourselves not from this world, but within it.
Mark Whitwell, from The Heart of Yoga, reminded us that the heart of yoga is movement — continuous, flowing, and changing. It invites a disciplined practice of devotion to self and to well-being. When all knowledge collapses, life manifests itself through action.
Perfection must be released — life is simple. There is no ownership of wisdom, no hierarchy between teacher and student; we are all artists in our communities, all gods of small things. Real power lies not in possession but in sincerity — sincerity that cuts through the illusions of capitalism and every “ism.”
Through conversations of change, we learn from one another. We inhabit each other’s nervous systems, sharing a collective consciousness. Enlightenment is not a framework; it is the lived experience of being.
Breath becomes our guide. There is no beginning and no end — only the pause between exhale and inhale, the constant welcoming of new beginnings. The impulse of an action is the awareness of now, the power of life itself.

There are no boundaries with gravity — only space reaching outward through the act of letting go.
There is no need to identify with experience, no goal to attain. What remains is sincerity and curiosity — a willingness to see and feel.
In this light, love becomes the tolerance of the limitations of self and others. Acting without the desire for results reveals the deepest truth of our actions. Nobility in our movement — light in our eyes — allows life to express itself without preconception, without the burden of what was, is, or ought to be.
This gathering was not only about what was happening in the moment, but about setting the conditions for what is yet to come. It placed us within the factory of knowledge, where we ourselves are the creation that keeps life’s manifestation in motion. To have “no-mind” is a kind of freedom — one that resists authority and no longer questions belonging. We always have been, and we always will be.

Our practices were enriched by the outstanding musicians Bruce Hamm, Joanna Mack, and Federico Sanesi, whose presence and artistry filled the space with the resonance of devotion. Their music was not merely a performance but an offering — a soundscape of healing that held us in vibration and silence alike. The rhythm of their instruments echoed the pulse of our collective breath, reminding us that harmony is born from deep listening.
One evening, Rosalind from The Heart of Yoga read from Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale. The poem captured the tension between the longing for eternal beauty and the truth of human mortality — a profound reflection on life and art.
Keats reminds us that “poetry is a void inside that blooms.”
He wished “to live in a world of sensations rather than thought,” not to observe life, but to participate in it fully — moment by moment.

To be glad that a song has no end — that there is always a flirtation between ending and beginning — is to enter the vibrational resonance of depth and renewal. Meditation, in this sense, becomes the embrace of lived experience itself.
Within the ecosystem of change, yoga serves as a collective resource — a unifying recognition of all beings and all forms. Our human relatedness becomes a sensual intimacy, as fluid and precious as liquid gold.
The misery of relationships and the intimacy of their unraveling can be dismantled through the dropping of judgment — by releasing the denial of our destiny as creators.
Ultimately, yoga is not about honoring the elements of nature through a sun salutation, but about honoring life itself, in all its forms.
There is one unity, expressed through every breath — air, fire, water, and light — and the true faculty of knowledge is that which is embodied.
When we forget that yoga must be “something,” we remember what it truly is.
We are already within the non-dual reality.
We do not go in and out — we are.

05/08/2025

When Ancestors Move Through Us: Story, Embodiment, and Field

Our ancestors’ history is not just something of the past—it is a vital source of nourishment and guidance.
This offering is an invitation to explore: How do we relate to our ancestral field?

By tapping into this field, we can gain insight into situations that may have felt confusing or heavy without explanation. Our intention is to learn how to be in reverence—so that we may be resourced, and in turn, allow healing to take place.

As our relationship with our ancestors deepens, the way we move through life changes. Our steps become lighter. We may choose to step back and create distance, or to come closer and feel more connected.
The patterns and dynamics of our lineage often live in us silently. By bringing awareness to them, we reclaim a sense of choice. We receive insight into how we might move toward the future with more harmony, developing a peaceful heart through the acceptance of what is.

We will inquire together: tender and sacred questions.

What does the connection feel like?

What sensations arise when we invite our ancestors to stand behind us?

How does their energy manifest—in a vision, a word, a sentence, a smell, or a gesture?

Who is most likely to show up for us to be in reverence to?

Are we curious? Does it feel safe? Are we close or distant?

You are invited on October 16th to a free introduction...online will let you know the link as you stay tuned.

30/07/2025

What is it that’s truly required of me to connect with the energy of Love?
Not just the idea of love—but the full, living, breathing experience of it.
I find myself drawn to the qualities that seem to radiate from this space:�
Warmth, innocence, gratitude.�Passion, kindness, expansiveness.� Realness, trust, beauty, openness.� Wonder, delight, affirmation, richness.�Integrity, power.
And I ask myself—is being in love simply about being fully present?
But presence demands courage. Because I’m learning I cannot truly arrive in the presence of Love without first dismantling the emotions that still live in the shadow—�The fear.�The grief.�The disappointment.
To love—fully, truly, and with integrity—I must meet those parts, too.�Not avoid them. Not bypass them. But face them with compassion and humility.
Only then, maybe, can Love reveal its truest form.
When loved one passes…What followed was not just heartbreak—it was a deep sense of betrayal, confusion, and silence.�So many unanswered questions.
How could it have been different?�Where did I fail to pay attention?�How did I let the mind be the driver, forgetting to tend to the environment of our relationship—the soil of us?
I was left with a sea of missed opportunities. And in their wake, fear—now companion to every other emotion—settled in.
But through my studies and inner work, I slowly began to see something else:�That not knowing what the future holds can become a currency—if I allow it to.
But only after I move through the e-motion of grief.
Only by facing the fear, not suppressing it, can I begin to feel the quiet presence of something more ancient:
The whisper of the ancestors who once tended the fields.� The wisdom of the soil itself, reminding me that even in loss, something is still alive beneath the surface.� The possibility that healing does not erase pain—it carries it differently.
Fear forces us to pause. But it can also invite us to listen.
If you’ve experienced this kind of loss, or are walking with fear as a companion, I see you.�You are not alone. And there is wisdom—even here.
If this resonates with you—if you're on this kind of path too—I welcome your reflection. What has Love asked of you? For me it just asked to Be Love and to give it freely always with no conditioning.

Somatic Work