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In those circles, everyone was both storyteller and listener. No hierarchy. No rush. Just life, shared in its many voices.

“Perhaps we can embrace the mud, just as it is… and simply say, ‘Yes, mud. Yes, lotus.’”

A luminous reflection on awakening to the Higher Self, healing the inner child, and remembering that love is who we truly are.

“I wasn’t too much or not enough or weird or broken. I was just me - and I had ADHD.”

We all thrive when we’re seen through a needs-based framework. And often, the most sensitive among us, are the ones guiding us back to the forest.

Pain is not the end of the story. It’s often the threshold of a transformation that does not deny the ordeal of its own creation.

To me, this poem is an example of the magic and mystery revealed when engaging in cultural repair.

In a world already straining under climate collapse, social injustice, and collective trauma, how do we justify giving ourselves the attention and rest we might desperately need? How do we carve out space to tend to ourselves when so much outside seems unwell?

If grieving is feeling, then feeling is life, allowed. Just as it is.

Our stories are how we make meaning. They’re a lens through which we understand our lives.

Ultimately, I believe boys need to learn to steer their actions from a heart that is tempered by both the immense beauty and harrowing grief that comes with really being here for a human life. 

The invitation is for us to pour ourselves into our lives as though it were a sacred ceremony. 

My personal pursuit of masculinity has led me down various paths. Some very dark indeed, some full of light, love, and hope for self and others, and a deep respect for this world we live in today.

Despite our best efforts to resist it, many of us have been shaped - and scarred - by the legacy of dysfunctional masculinity. All men carry traces of this inheritance. In ways seen and unseen, we’ve been both wounded by it and, at times, complicit in passing it on.

On some level we’re all traversing tender, wounded parts. Let’s meet there and deepen our relationships, lessening the burden for our children and future generations.

Feature article from our May 2025 Newsletter Last year I was introduced to the The White Roots of Peace , an old Iroquois story, upon which some of the US constitution was originally formed.   Originally told over days and days, the abridged version tells of a person named The Great Peacemaker  and his journey as he carries a divine-given message of peace, to warring tribes.   When we say 'divine-given' this means it comes from something larger than what we are as people. To

Here 's what I don't like about the term "people-pleasing" : it is inherently shaming.

A heartfelt investigation into Awe - more powerful and available to us than many of us realise.

And the Grandmothers sang to me, "If Love is a River, Listen".

A tender journey with chronic pain that asks 'who am I without my usual physical capacity'?