For the woman whose life has stopped fitting, and who wants to find out where she actually stands. For the woman who suspects the way back to herself might be through something older and slower and closer to the earth than anything she's tried so far. Each week I write about life transitions, plant wisdom, and seasonal rhythm... real letters, not polished advice. When you join, you'll get The Stile, five questions that show you which landscape you're actually standing in right now, plus the plant ally that grows there and a small five-minute practice to do.
Trusting the unfurling
Published about 2 months ago • 2 min read
Hey Reader,
Today I'm dancing that balance between having the time and headspace to get going with things... alongside the oft-begrudging acceptance that I have to trust the process (which is rarely on my timeline).
Yes, more lessons from the fells. Last week I decided to go up the other side of Crook, because the maps tell me there's a way to get up there and get onto Sickers Fell, which I've been wanting to get onto for a while.
So I go onto the very wild and bracken-covered fell wall path to find the way up the far side of the fell - can't find anything resembling a footpath in all that, so end up trying to hack through what appears to be a sheep trail.
I soon realised no path was gonna appear, and I didn't really have any idea where I was going other than up (going back down a steep fell covered in waist-high bracken was not on my options list!)
So I trusted the spirit of the fell to guide me. After a while the bracken opened a little and I realised I'd found a trail that the fell ponies use, and from there it wasn't too long until I was out of the bracken and nearing the summit.
The back of Sickers Fell, from Crook.
And guess what was at the top?
A fell pony. Like a symbol of wild resilience.
That's the bit I keep needing reminding of. The path only shows up once you stop demanding it exist on your schedule, and I don't think that's just true of fells.
After my dad died, everything in my life paused. I didn't push through it. I let it stop me, and something started to shift that wouldn't have shifted any other way.
I've launched things too early before. Tried to force healing onto a schedule that wasn't its own. Both times, it came back around later, louder.
I've recorded an audio version this week for YouTube, on the two questions I actually ask myself now when something doesn't feel ready yet, and why I've stopped treating slowness as a problem to fix.
If something's ending, or changing, or you're not quite sure who you're becoming yet, you don't need the whole thing mapped out first.
The Stile is a free five-question reflection. Answer them and you'll land on a landscape and a plant ally that matches where you actually are right now, plus a small practice to go with it.
If you've already named what's ending and you're ready to actually move through it, not just sit with it, this is for you.
Crossing the Threshold is a three-session 1:1 space to sort through what's shifting and come out the other side with something real to hold onto. Currently £127 as a founding rate.
For the woman whose life has stopped fitting, and who wants to find out where she actually stands. For the woman who suspects the way back to herself might be through something older and slower and closer to the earth than anything she's tried so far. Each week I write about life transitions, plant wisdom, and seasonal rhythm... real letters, not polished advice. When you join, you'll get The Stile, five questions that show you which landscape you're actually standing in right now, plus the plant ally that grows there and a small five-minute practice to do.