Monday Tarot Message: Come home to yourself

The journey of “coming into one’s own” is one of self-discovery, of seeing aknd knowing oneself authentically, the triumphant experience of receiving how it is to see ourselves, and be seen, for who we truly are. It reminds me of what Toko-pa Turner says in her book, Belonging:

Where you ache to be recognised, allow yourself to be seen.

This homecoming is a process of learning to see ourselves first. What we accept and learn to love in ourselves, we can then allow to be seen by the world. One does not simply arrive here, without doing the work of peeling back the layers that cover our authentic selves, innermost desires and potential. It requires uncovering growth by getting to the depths of all that holds us back, whether past hurt, trauma, wounds that need healing, self-limiting beliefs or simply a belief in lack. It inevitably requires us to move in ways that we are not comfortable with, and we can only find newness by moving towards the edge of that discomfort.


Venturing into this unknown involves a simultaneous discovery of desire within, and inner strength to follow through. Undoubtedly, you’ll find fear, grief, insecurity waiting for you there. But this gradual process of meeting all that you have hitherto protected yourself from, kept hidden, helps loosen the grip, acknowledge and see yourself in your wholeness.

Knowing yourself is no different to exercise. When we place incremental strain, stretch and wear and tear on our bodies/muscles, we encourage them to grow. Similarly, your personhood finds opportunity to grow through experiences outside the comfort zone. Through confronting your fears gradually, you also find the capacity to meet them. It’s a practice that is best done slowly, one day at a time, and even better under the careful guidance of an experienced professional who not only knows the ways of how to stretch and grow, but can hold your hand and take you through it.

Let’s be honest, these challenges may be daunting. To tread unexplored waters that have always been scary. It reminds us of all that we could lose, so we choose to stay and remain unchanged. But there is a price in staying, as much as there is in moving. And sometimes that price is the opportunity to come home to yourself.

One year ago: Things that have punched me right in the gut
Two years ago: Old selves
Three years ago: Afterglow
Five years ago: End of day


Thank you for the sea. The sun and sand. For sudsegad and the daily siesta. For the sunsets. The daily brush with shells, saltwater and seabreeze. For the fish thalis. For tisriyo, veliyo, lepo and chorice. For the beef. For the chocolate cake, serrsdura and caramel custard. For gelato. For friends who never forget. For friends like family. For the beach stays. For beach days. For the drives. For the 2000+ kms done in just six weeks. For the ease and acceptance. For the best time with S. For all the good work vibes and the tsunami of sessions. For the comfortable routine. For the drinks and the doobs. For the humidity and good skin days. For the heat and the powercuts that made me miss Bangalore. For such great shorts weather, my jeans lay untouched. For sweaty workouts. For meeting new people. For making new friends. For comfort in those that have altered. For acceptance with those that I left and hurt over for too long. For the happy happy days that outnumbered all others. For the flat days that gave pause. For the solitude and solo exploring. For all the catch ups I managed. For all the new places I ate at. For letting go old discomforts that have been heavy. For lightness and ease. For everything that’s changed that I worried wouldn’t be the same. For how okay it feels. For how okay I feel. For the quiet end of the year. And quiet beginning of a new one. For a home away from home. Forever home. For always.

One year ago: On anger
Two years ago: New light
Three years ago: Blockrockin’ beats (Wayanad 2017)
Five years ago: Come undone


This here, is my body

2017 marked a significant shift in my relationship with my body, with the idea of fitness, nourishment and body image. I believed then that I was already in a “good” place because I had been over the slimness versus fitness, strong over slim hill already. And I had chosen strength already. I was squatting more than my bodyweight. I was kickboxing in a class with the local goon, often sparring with him and giving him a run for his money. Either that or he was letting me win. I was visibly muscular, and I liked it. I’d never denied my body anything food-wise, until then and I wondered what restrictive healthy eating might do for me. So I gave it a shot with a 6 weekow carb high protein shred which took me to a body weight and size like never before. I would say it altered my frame altogether. I was at my energetic best, working out hard six days a week and feeling fabulous. But it was simply not sustainable. I also got into an obsessive loop of trying to stay the same, which, to be honest, is an impossible ask.

It’s been up and down since then, slowly arriving at a place of balance. Letting completely go for an entire year, growing physically as much as I did emotionally, to returning to an intuitive and self-led approach to what made sense for me, then. Finding, from all my years of experiments with workouts, what makes me happy and understanding my relationship with tedium and routine. And finding my unique niche, that place of comfort with allowing myself to go with the changes as they come — whether that’s cravings and desire to eat what I want or the ups and downs in my energy on any given day.

2020 however was a whole new world. The forces healthy eating during lockdown, challenges of working out indoors and then swapping it up so much post lockdown, returning to R’s class — my body has shredded and grown many times over in just one year. And somehow I’ve found a new level of acceptance with my body through it all.

This is your body, your greatest gift, pregnant with wisdom you do not hear, grief you thought was forgotten, and joy you have never known.

— Marion Woodman

2020 was also the year where the physical aspect of my body became prominent in my emotions al journey. As my work (for myself as well as my work with clients) grew more somatic, I’ve become aware of the role of my body as a vessel and what it holds. And so my relationship with that body has changed yet again. It has been less about doing, and more about being, and allowing all kinds of being — active to rest, high energy to restorative and slow — and treating myself with fondness and interest.

Suddenly now, I see a malleable, gentle being that needs attention and kindliness, no matter what mode of exercise I choose, where I once saw a hard, unchanging body that needed to be fixed, through restriction and punishment.

I feel like my body looks different from what it did even just one year ago, somehow. It certainly feels different, in a very private sort of way. Like an inner knowing, and not so much what’s visible to the world outside.

More gifts received from the year that took so much:

  1. Rediscovering running
  2. Maximizing the 5×5 space in my living room for seven months
  3. Finding yin
  4. Fondness for myself and my body
  5. A flexible daily practice
  6. Softness. Rest. Listening with ease
  7. Returning to the best coach I’ve ever had
  8. Enjoying my body, enjoying moving any way I like, dancing
  9. Learning that I love my body and I love food, and that one need not cancel the other
  10. Feeling really frigging well, inside and out

One year ago: Of a new beginning
Two years ago: Breathing space
Five years ago: People puzzles

That’s how I built my heart’s palaces

In the way that flowers bloom in the desert
That’s how I built my heart’s palaces.

The idea of “heart’s palaces” — entire, vast, palatial, seemingly endless palaces ensconsed in the boundaried space that is my heart, really spoke to me.

The idea of building these figurative palaces, akin to the audacious way in which flowers dare to bloom, fighting all odds and nay-sayers, in the drought of the desert — even more.

Lines from my one of only three (boohoo) favourites in this year’s season of Coke Studio.

One year ago: On emptiness
Four years ago: Two new pieces
Five years ago: Lessons in letting go

Old-new Instagram vibes

At the start of the year, I resurrected my old Instagram account from yonks ago, after a three years hiatus (during which I really looked down upon and curled my nose up at the idea of Instagram itself).

I’d say I’ve come full circle. And with good reason — the stuff I’ve saved for my written journal hahaha. I was spurred by the sense of having turning yet another corner, enjoying this new feeling of wholeness and being present in my being in this point in time, palpably shedding the need to hide parts of myself that I have so far, and wanting to just separate my work and life/word sharing a bit.

And so I’m back. But I wanted it to be new. So I archived the entirety of my old feed, and what an exercise it was. Scrolling back over 2k pictures, all the way back to 2012, when I first got on the platform.

It was like turning the pages of a life of an entirely different person. Fascinating and wonderous, the things I have done, the thoughts I have had, the stuff I have shared. It brought back vivid memories of events and experiences, many that are slowly receding and could have done with a jog back of this kind.

There were so many good memories! So many, many good times. Because let’s face it, I only shared the good times hahahaha.

In the past I found all the lightheartedness and play that I have longed for in the last few years of my life. And I felt a kindred spirit for the person I am today, once again sparking this facet of myself.

But it was painful seeing many of the pictures because it brought back equally vivid memories of experiences, events, holidays, meals, and so much more, shared with people no longer in my life. It felt like brief frames with a limited shelf life, snapshots of a time when I was blissfully unaware of who I was and who these poeople would eventually be to me. I truly believed — and this was so apparent in my words — that they were my people. It hurt to once again recollect how wrong I was. And how easily and badly I wanted to believe that.

I took some really really shit pictures. Both in terms of the complete lack of aesthetics, but also in terms of what was being photographed. AND WHY???

For many years in the beginning, I took some really shit pictures. Aesthetically terrible, but also shit in terms of content. Pictures that really needed no sharing. Pictures that possibly didn’t ever need to be taken. Reams of pictures that I looked at and went “why?

Later, especially in the last two years before I quit, when I started to really get into the aesthetic of picture taking/memory making itself, I took some really good pictures. Content-wise, still questionable, but at least they were beautiful pictures to see.

I consistently and continually wrote some seeeriously dorky captions. I probably thought I was really funny (and maybe some of it was, at the time), but from where I am today, I had an ache in my heart thinking of the person I was. There was a serious amount of posturing, and trying hard to be the person I was on Instagram I think what began as an accidental projection, continued into a moulding a convenient facade, and an active effort to maintain that image. Cool, casual, non-chalant. No matter that the reality of my life, especially the last 2-3 years before I left, was rife with upheaval that was far from cool, casual and non-chalant.

I felt a bit gob-smacked to see this in myself. It is something I was oblivious to back then, and have only known in varying degrees over the last three years since quitting Instagram. Yet, nothing made it hit home like revisiting my feed did.

That hurt. It’s an odd feeling, this. Hurting for an old version of yourself. In a way, there is so much distance and movement ahead, it feels like a faraway ghost of myself that I actually can’t relate to anymore. There is disbelief. But there is also an inherant connection, and almost a longing to quickly go back in time and soothe myself. The knowing of all that was going on in my life then is alive. And there is familiarity mixed up even in the distance and the disonance that the passage of time   creates.


I also massively, and I mean massively, culled my follow and follower list. So, some other observations and thoughts I had along the way:

Those who were voyeurs then, are voyeurs even now haha. I am personally very bored with that kind of Instagram that I was into back then. Looking at the lives of people. I have gradually growing bored in that format over the years, especially peeking into the lives of strangers who remain figments pieced together from a collection of pixels and our perceptions, but it has probably peaked and turned into an abject disinterest. There are a couple of people I follow in this category now because theyre seriously compelling in some way or the other. But just following someone for pictures of their cute baby, their furniture and decor ideas, their daily lunch plate — you get the drift — it is so, so boring.

I revisiting the old follow list I had, and my god there were SO MANY in this category. And it was interesting to see how many people I saw still into it.

I did some entirely unnecesary photo challenges like that godawful “FMSdaily prompt challenge”. UFFF, why why whyyy did we do those things, and why did nobody tell us how awful our pictures were? I posted one too many terrible pictures in the effort to finish those daily challenges.

I followed some seriously problematic people. Seeeriously problematic. I guess it’s a sign of what I have learned, and how I have grown/changed in the years since. My politics and my sense of the ideas that shape my world are definitely very different, than they were back then. It made me slightly uncomfortable to see some familiar names following people I wouldn’t dream of following now. I had to bite back and reflect on my judgement here.

Some people that I followed for their cute baby, now have two. Some distant acquaintances who were single are now married and have babies. Why is everyone having babies, what’s going on, what happened in this pandemic year?

My ideas of so many things are just so different now. Fitness, food, art, aesthetics. The handles I followed then based on my interest in these things are so different form the handles I follow now. I have next to no food on my feed today, I have some fitness, but it’s of a very different kind from the handles I followed back then. There is a lot of art, comics, and illustrators, but again of a very different style and content. It was fun to see what has changed, and how much.

I obsessed over every little thing I cooked, believing it was an accomplishment. If people told me back then how stupid it was, or how unnecessary, contrived and self-obsessed it was, I wouldn’t have taken it well. I should have stuck to my food blog, where I did a half decent job of documenting the food I enjoyed and cooked. There was absolutely no need to put a really bad pictrue of every little thing I ate or cooked on my Instagram. UGH. Terrible self-obsession. I thought everything I cooked was gorgeous enough to be photographed, which is seriously a joke.

I believed I was very self-aware and honest on my social media. And maybe I was, to a large degree. But looking back, and through my feed three years on, I saw so much lies. So much conspicuous posturing of the kind I loathed seeing in others.

If there is one thing I know for sure (and I try and not articulate too many conclusive, sweeping statements of this kind these days) it is this: I am ordinary. I am small. I am not special. Just like every one else.

So it was such a cringe fest seeing some of the posts, especially those on days that were truly miserable, or when something really forgettable happened, but I chose to post something entirely different to distract from it and to lure myself into the belief that there was something inherently special about me and my life.

What a ride.

Two years ago: Solo Saturday night
Three years ago: Obscured by clouds (Coonoor, 2017)
Four years ago: Inconsequential posts you really don’t need to read
Five years ago: R&R

Monday Tarot Message: On balance

About two years ago, deep in my efforts to “find balance,” I realised there was nothing balanced about my pursuit, since I was chasing a very fixed (also borrowed/aspirational) idea of what “balance” is, and I punished myself for every inconsistency. How could I possibly find balance without a balanced approach to begin with? (LOLZ)

Temperance calls to the fore a soft, intuitive balance. This is a card that I believe is an apt summation of the entire tarot deck itself in which we see the emotional (cups), material (pentacles), spiritual (wands), intellectual (swords) worlds within us always in flow, intermingling and inter-twining. Life feels balanced when we can move with, rather than against, the influences and interplay between them. The deck essentially provides visuals for when the various aspects of our being may feel off kilter — indicating which aspect we need to see/hear/pay attention to/care for — in order to bring ourselves back to balance.

Perhaps balance then, is about understanding that “being balanced” itself looks different for different people, rather than aspiring to a fixed one-size-fits-all notion of it. It is about noticing that when one aspect feels “off-balance” it’s likely that something within is asking for attention and care. Tending to it will involve listening, rather than admonishing it for its needs.

A balanced approach to self-awareness requires understanding the interplay between the various parts that make us whole. There will be times where the emotional will be louder/more demanding than the physical, or the spiritual may appear at loggerheads with the cognitive. Maybe leaning hevaily into the physical is your modus operandi, and there comes a point in life where the emotional or spiritual will rear it’s head asking to be noticed. Working with this interplay will mean looking at each aspect in context to the others, as it may be coming up for you.

This ebb and flow is natural and human. Knowing this is step 1. We can then get good at recognising when one of the aspects are in flux, and what they’re asking for. This is self-awareness, and it enables us to respond appropriately. Flowing in tune with our inner-needs that are ever-changing (and demanding!) as opposed to having external goals that are mostly fixed. We can allow ourselves variance and opportunities to grow by listening keenly, being in tune with each of our aspects and understanding what drives us. And we’re more likely to find balance, in this way.

One year ago: Full moon, moon shine
Two years ago: Deep-dive
Three years ago: I have my books and my poetry to protect me
Four years ago: Happier: perpetual WIP 
Five years ago: This and that

On magic

It’s not Monday, but I had some thoughts on Magic. So here goes.

Making Magic usually takes some work in terms of aligning desires with actions that can take us towards fulfilling them.

But there are many times that life offers up Magic without any effort or doing on our part. Think the sweet spots that shine amidst the rhythm of mundane life. Surprises that hum through the low hum of daily existence. Unexpected gifts that were waiting to be revealed, that were chanced upon seemingly in the middle of nowhere. When we weren’t looking. Happy coincidences, chance twists in the tale, unexpected good times that somehow make our day, week, month or year.

It’s okay, good even, to take these moments of magic for what they are. With arms outstretched, to receive it in full, even when it feels unwarranted or like we did nothing to deserve it. From a source beyond our making or doing.

The end of 2020 has been nothing short of magical for me. And I’ve been trying to take it for what it is — pure goodness — without wondering if it will last, how long I’ll be before the next slump, if I’m worth it etc, and all the other thoughts I usually have that totally kill the magic.

If you need a sign, take this today. Magic received and passed on, just as is. No reasons given, no hustle needed.

One year ago: On listening
Two years ago: Changing seasons, changing reasons
Three years ago: I’m just too good at goodbyes
Five years ago: On waiting

Ghosts of people past

Still have Joan Didion’s words thrumming through my body and brain, a whole day later, in the form of questions I have arrived at and asked myself many, many times before.

What happens to the people we used to be, past versions of ourselves, as we gently tend to growing some parts, letting others go?

Sometimes I’ve had answers. Sometimes I’ve only felt like I have come close to having some semblance of an answer, letting myself kiss the edges of knowing, but settling fully into the un-knowing. Dipping myself into the masochistic discomfort of it.

But, most times the answer has been a statement — I wonder.

Or some variation of it.

One year ago: Clear
Two years ago: I am the universe
Five years ago: Shiny new guiding lights

Who dat?

Deep feels, deep resonance and deep, deep punch to the gut reading Joan Didion today.

I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be…

— Joan Didion

One year ago: Sundry work updates
Five years ago: Sometimes I draw

Endless beach days

We took ourselves to the beach on the 31st to catch the sunset. And somehow, without plan, found ourselves back at the beach on the 1st too. Then on the 2nd, we celebrated D’s birthday by spending the day on a beach in the south. So now we’ve even ticked that off the box. I want to believe that starting the year with three days at the beach is a good sign. Of what, I’m not sure.

Of balance? Of grounding? Of more access to sunshine and salt water? All of the above?

One can hope.

One year ago: Recharged
Three years ago: Here I go again (on my own)
Four years ago: 2016
Five years ago: In-bloom

Monday Tarot Message: Sitting in the dark, waiting

As we move through transitions, like turning into a New Year, it’s typical to want to rush through them. We pressure ourselves to leave behind the old, cast it away and assign lofty goals for the days ahead. But what do you do when you’re moving through what has been a difficult season that’s asked for a lot of staying put? Waiting. Hoping. Uncertainty and not knowing?

What meanings do goals have then?

The Three of Wands here speaks to me of waiting. Not a passive, resigned waiting, or waiting in expectation, but active waiting fortified with acceptance and compassion, without the pressure of needing an external shift, big goals, aha moments and learnings. It’s okay if 2020 has been largely a dud. It’s okay if it didn;t inspire any frantic banana bread baking, if you didn’t pick up sourdough baking, didn’t find it in you to do home workouts or you learnt no new skills and didn’t end the year with a new home business. It’s okay if you weren’t productive at all.

Be more interested in what this waiting has been like within yourself. What has shifted internally? How can you hold space for what is still in transit, still emerging slowly?

If you ended 2020 feeling the loss of a whole year, sadness for your unmet goals/dreams, resentment for the “lapses” or return of old coping mechanisms, stuckness from being in limbo, may I suggest you allow yourself some time to look within. To see what has changed internally. To grieve losses, mark the changes, celebrate the joys and integrate all the experiences?

Many times in life, things do not move as fast as we would like. It is the same with therapy/healing. When the aha moments are elusive. At those times, it is more about consistently showing up for yourself, trusting the process, holding space for it. And waiting, with compassion. The rhythm of simply doing this is healing during unpredictable, haphazard times.

There is an Inuit word for it. “Qarrtsiluni: to sit together in the dark, waiting for something to happen.” I could try and learn this during this time of slow change, I thought.

Going into 2021, I hope that you’ll offer yourself some kindness and compassion. For getting through this time the best way you could. Allow yourself not to fret, rage and fight through the transition. Not to have any successes, and few or no goals. Just to wait a while, for something to emerge.


Happy new year, folks. Thank you for indulging my Monday messages, week after week. I hope some of you found resonance. Those of you who wrote in to let me know, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Really.


Due to a cancellation on 6th January, I have one last spot left on this offering: Looking Back and Looking Ahead. If you’d like in, please reach out to me.

One year ago: Ways of seeing
Two years ago: Boombox updates
Three years ago: Going by the book (and all that I read in 2017)
Five years ago: Love letters

Year-end feels (#4)

Newsflash and new learning: I don’t have to pause life for healing, or pause healing to live life.

Real life is mixed up, often messy and up and down. As is healing. The two can (and should) go hand in hand. They complement each other and evolve somewhat simultaneously.

I lived in hiding, especially keeping the “healing story” of my life under wraps, for some years. Very few people knew I was studying family constellations or that I had been reading tarot cards, until I started to offer it at the start of last year.

Since then, it’s been a slow coming-out of hiding, as I have worked on opening up other aspects of my life, stepping up and owning parts that I’ve kept hidden either from shame or fear. And sometimes guilt. I’m only just getting comfortable with all that I am at this moment in time. And all that I have been before. There is contentment about where I am today, and excitement about where I can be in the months to come.

It seems funny and interesting that it’s taken me so long to really believe how the two — my personal journey and the rest of my life itself — intertwine and meander like a braid, one influencing the other and contributing to make a whole. Seems most basic and obvious, and yet it has eluded me for so long now. But it is such a small, big difference.

One year ago: In with the new
Two years ago: Taking it slow
Three years ago: Onwards and upwards
Five years ago: Move more

Sun and salt water days

I only got to the sea in the last quarter of the year. But it is a privilege and a joy I cannot overstate. Our plan for 2020 was to shunt between Goa and Bangalore, as and when we pleased, because finally we are at a stage and place in our lives where we can. But of course that plan was not to be.

We did make it though, in October, finally. And despite living in Goa for eight years and having this continued come-and-go relationship with it for nearly ten years now, this time around, I really made time and effort to make it to the beach.

VC and I decided before we came here this time around, four weeks ago, that we’d try and spend sunset at the beach everyday. And so when we did, I started marking the days. Counting them off, here and on Instagram. Till I got to day 10 (without a break) and I realised we were actually doing it. I t wasn’t just a pipe dream or a short-lived burst of josh. And so I stopped counting. Nearly four weeks in, I’ve been at the beach at least 5 days a week, on average. Most times with VC, some days with S, and many days alone. Sometimes to swim, sometimes to just sit and watch everything, sometimes with tea, sometimes just music, sometimes to lie on my mat.

I unfailingly made a conscious effort every single day to get out and go to the beach. And I made it on most days. Some days I settled for a coffee shop, or a drive — getting out at sunset everyday anyway. LIFECHANGING.

Anyhow. I’ve more than made up for lost time at the sea — a feeling I’ve carried for all the years I lived here and was too busy living life to actually go to the beach as often as one imagined one would.

All this to say, I’m deeply, deeply grateful for the sea. For showing me how to flow and be steady. For letting me let go. For taking my tears. For giving me so many spectacular sunsets to close so many days, all kinds of days. For taking my breath away so often. For leaving me silent and speechless. For being okay with my solitude and companionship, whichever I brought with me on any given day. For being always available. For steadiness. For resilience. For silence. For flow. For ease.

I have received more than I have given. I have taken more than I can ever return.


We spent today evening at the sea too. It was way mroe packed than it has ever been this season. That was expected, I guess. But it was ncie none the less. To soak my feet, ground them in grimy sand, catch floating seashells, dodge hermit crabs.

Watching the sun go down as it does every single day, I reminded myself to go in to the new year without heavily pressing my intentions on what is yet to come.
To be okay with feeling my way through.
To find comfort in the wonder. In discovering things beyond what I think I already know.
To learn and accept how little I actually do know.
To try and take each moment as it is. Full of possibility in its own way.
Without heavily pressing my intentions, expectations or plans on what it could hold for me.
To come and go lightly. To hold on to only as much as I need. And let the rest go.
To flow, and to be steady all at once.

One year ago: Curtain call
Two years ago: December
Three years ago: Crossing over
Four years ago: December

Looking back. And looking ahead.

Somehow, it is the end of the year already. ALREADY. While I’m not feeling the usual forced new-year-new-me enthusiasm, I am feeling reflective. Because it has been a whopper of a year.

If you find yourself reflecting on the year gone by too, I’m offering tarot sessions to look back at all that 2020 has held. Without any pressure to expect anything major from the year ahead. A session to gather key experiences and emotions, reflect on what you have gained and lost, celebrate the wins, grieve the losses, mark the moments that you want to build on. And easily, gently set an intention for the months to come.

It’s been a challenging year from everybody — one way or another. I can say this with so much certainty. Maybe it raked uo a lot of previously unseen and unfelt emotions. Perhaps it asked for a lot more fortitude andn stretched you in ways you didn’t feel ready for. And through it all, maybe you unlocked unknown reserves of quiet strength and flexibility. Maybe you also saw faultlines in yourself you didn’t know existed beneath the aspiration for perfection or the need to have it together. Maybe you discovered something about yourself that you love, something else that you didn’t love so much, something else that needs work, something else that gave you peace.

Whatever your specific experience through 2020, it’s likely you’re not looking at yourself or your world quite the same way you did before 2020. Or perhaps ever.

I’ve had clients experessing a feeling of “backlog” or overwhelm from not having processed any of this. If this resonates with you, I am attempting to facilitate a space like that, even if you just an hour or more, before we step into the flow of the new year.

Give yourself, or a loved one, a session to Look Back And Look Ahead, if this sounds interesting to you. I started sessions yesterday and will be available until 6th January, 2021. Slots are already filling up, so please reach out if you’re considering, so I can accommodate you.

One year ago: Back to earth
Two years ago: Expand your mind, take a look behind
Four years ago: All the books I read this year

Happy happy

Happy happy VC! It’s been a challenging year for you, and us. So I’m wishing that the year ahead sees good health, a wholesome and balanced life with many more photography adventures, good food, new work milestones and most of all ease and peace.

One year ago: Here’s to getting old
Two years ago: Would you rewind it all the time
Four years ago: Redemption reading