FOLLOWING THE THREAD HOME

For a long time, I believed growth meant moving forwards. Learning more. Doing more. Becoming more. Sometimes it does. Lately, though, I have been noticing something different.

What if growth is not always about moving forwards? What if sometimes it is about circling back, returning to the parts of ourselves that have been waiting patiently for our attention?

Over the last few years, life has asked a great deal of me. There has been grief, change, responsibility and the kind of experiences that quietly reshape you from the inside out. Throughout it all, my body remained the place where everything landed. My nervous system often knew long before my mind when I was overwhelmed, disconnected or simply exhausted.

As I have begun settling back into work, I have found myself reflecting not only on what I do, but on why I do it.

I continue to feel deeply called to support people through movement, particularly those living with scoliosis, spinal fusion and just bad backs. Movement remains one of the most powerful ways I know to reconnect with ourselves. It helps us listen. It helps us notice. It helps us build trust in a body that may have felt unreliable, painful or unfamiliar.

Yet alongside this return to movement, other threads have started to reappear.

Threads I had quietly set aside.

Storytelling. Guided relaxation. Imagination. Creativity. The gentle space where reflection and self-discovery meet.

These were once a huge part of my world, and recently I have found myself drawn back towards them. Not because I want to abandon what I already do, but because I am beginning to recognise how naturally they belong alongside it.

Part of this reflection was inspired by a grief session with Tree Carr, whose work explores dreams, symbolism, story and imagination. Her invitation to engage with images, archetypes and the deeper landscapes of our inner worlds stirred something that had been sitting quietly in the background of my own life.

Another part emerged while participating in Aneta Idczak’s Walk Your Talk 3-Day Experience. The experience explored authenticity, self-trust and the ways we can unknowingly abandon ourselves in order to belong. One message in particular stayed with me:

How often do we look outside ourselves for permission?

Permission to change. Permission to create. Permission to explore an interest that doesn’t fit neatly into a professional box. Permission to follow something simply because it feels meaningful.

One of the areas that has resurfaced through this reflection is my long-standing interest in working with symbolic cards. Whenever I mention cards, I feel the need to clarify what I mean. I am not interested in prediction or telling people what their future holds.

What interests me is something much more grounded.

A card can function in much the same way as a piece of art, a story, a dream image or a metaphor. It offers a point of reflection. An invitation to pause and notice what captures our attention, what evokes a memory, what sparks resistance or curiosity.

The wisdom is not in the card itself. The wisdom comes from the conversation it creates.

It comes from the meanings, memories and associations that arise when we slow down long enough to pay attention. In many ways, this feels closely connected to both somatic work and storytelling. All three begin with curiosity rather than certainty. All three invite us to listen more deeply to ourselves. All three remind us that we often carry insights that are waiting patiently to be discovered rather than delivered by somebody else.

As I look ahead, I do not feel the need to reinvent myself. What I feel instead is a desire to bring the different parts of my work closer together.

Movement and embodiment. Storytelling and imagination. Guided relaxation and nervous system regulation. Reflection, symbolism and lived experience. Not separate paths competing for attention, but different expressions of the same underlying question:

What helps us come home to ourselves?

I do not know exactly where this thread will lead. Perhaps it will find its way into more writing. Perhaps into storytelling. Perhaps guided relaxations. Perhaps workshops that weave together movement, reflection and imagination in ways I have yet to discover.

What I do know is that I have learned enough by now to trust curiosity. To trust what quietly keeps returning. To trust the interests and ideas that continue to call us, even after years of silence.

Perhaps growth is not always about becoming someone new.

Perhaps sometimes it is simply about remembering who we have been all along.

Have you ever found yourself returning to something you once loved, only to discover it held a deeper meaning than you first realised?