I disappeared for a while this summer.

Not dramatically. There was no grand announcement, no ceremonious switching off of the lights. I simply stopped writing here.

My last essay arrived in early June, on the back of a trip that gave me something I hadn’t known I was looking for. I went away with questions and returned with something much less convenient than an answer: this summer wasn’t asking me to begin another thing. It wasn’t asking for another project, another direction, another reinvention. It was asking me to complete.

At the time, I think I understood this intellectually. A few months later, I feel the difference.

The foundations they never taught us to build

There is something deeply unglamorous about foundations. Nobody applauds the roots for growing. There is little of the intoxicating energy that comes with announcing something new, following a sudden impulse, revealing a big plan, opening a fresh, clean page.

Foundations ask for something else.

They ask us to stay. And that never came to me naturally.

So I challenged myself to spend much of this summer staying:

Staying with decisions long enough to discover whether they are actually mine. Staying with my body when it asks for something different from my mind. Staying with unfinished things instead of escaping into the exhilaration of beginning again. Staying home. Going to bed. Changing my mind. Abandoning ideas for good. Closing chapters. Leaving questions unanswered.

Building, I am discovering, can look remarkably like doing very little from the outside.

Perhaps that has been my greatest lesson of this summer: if I want to build something that can actually hold the life I imagine, I have to stop treating the foundations as the inconvenient part I need to hurry through.

And all of this, strangely enough, began with one very small question.

How can I love myself more?

I have shared that question with you here before.

It first came to me earlier this year while I was closing one of my group spaces. I remember saying the words aloud and assuming, for a moment, that they had arrived for somebody else in the room.

Of course they hadn’t.

The question was all mine. And for months, life seems to have been answering it.

Not with one magnificent revelation, but through a collection of very ordinary decisions:

Go to bed.

Cancel the thing.

Take the afternoon off.

You don’t have to explain.

Your body said no.

Listen first.

Change your mind.

Don’t rush.

At first, these hardly felt like acts of love. Sometimes they felt like laziness. Sometimes failure. Sometimes irresponsibility. But most often they brought up that peculiar guilt that appears the moment we choose ourselves over whatever invisible standard we have been trying to satisfy.

But perhaps love is not always the warm feeling we imagine it to be.

Perhaps sometimes love is simply refusing to abandon yourself.

A letter to myself

Somewhere along the way, I came across the idea of writing myself a Kindness Manifesto, inspired by the wonderful .

I loved it.

And then I did absolutely nothing with it.

At the time, even kindness felt like another thing on my to-do list. I was under so much pressure to complete the assignments, launch the new things, keep everything moving, that sitting down to write myself a love letter felt almost absurd.

Another task. Another thing I wasn’t getting around to.

So I didn’t.

And then, months later, on a plane home after a holiday, it came.

No planning. No special ritual. No perfect notebook or beautifully carved-out morning.

I took out my pen and within half an hour, there it was.

I wrote until I ran out of room. And then, quite literally, I carried on in the margins:

We meet under a solar eclipse

And perhaps there is a reason I felt ready to share something so personal today.

It’s one of those rare moments in the sky that has always made humans stop, look up and pay attention.

I can feel the energy deeply. Not as another instruction to reinvent myself overnight, as the internet is trying to convince me, but almost the opposite. It feels like wings underneath everything I have been learning this summer.

A moment to draw the line. To acknowledge what I already know and decide that I am no longer willing to abandon it.

And I want to invite you to make a promise.

“Dancing is a must”

So next time you take that blank sheet of paper, before you ask yourself what you should write, I invite you to see what happens when you ask a different question:

How can I love myself more?

Perhaps you write the permissions you have been waiting for somebody else to give you. Or the things you know but keep forgetting. Maybe it’s what your body has been trying to tell you. Or the boundaries that are yours to draw — and redraw.

Write down what you are finally ready to stop apologising for.

And perhaps, like me, you’ll run out of room. Then write some more in the margins.

“I am safe in the margins.”

I think that may be my favourite sentence on the entire page.

Because aren’t the margins where so much of a life actually happens?

Outside the plan. Outside the identity we have already explained to everybody. Outside the neat edges of what we said we would do, who we thought we would become, what we assumed success would look like.

The margins have room for contradiction. And perhaps being safe there changes everything.

This has been the simplest and hardest lesson to learn at the same time.

I don’t need to fight myself into the life I want. I can love myself there.

And finally, I think I get it.

🤍

Love,
Hrissy xx

These are the words I shared in my latest June monthly update - a little ritual I’ve created over the past year where I set the energetic theme of each month and invite all of you to share your own experience with the topic. And if May left you feeling slightly confused, dazzled and at times thinking “What the heck was that?…” - know that you’re not alone!

In all fairness, May was a revelation. A final moment of defence before the full surrender that came like an ocean wave and washed a heavy backpack of guilt, burden and responsibility safely out to sea.

It all started on the last Spiritual Accelerator call of the season. I was closing the group space when the invitation came through me - no warning attached:

When I uttered those words, I thought they were perhaps meant for one of the clients on the call. It didn’t take long to realise they were meant exactly for me.

What ensued was four weeks of utter chaos, a metaphorical capitulation of all neat plans I had made for Business as Poetry this summer… and some precious gifts in the form of life lessons - of course.

They came to me after an unexpected moment of stillness. In my latest essay I shared the story of a powerful women’s circle I joined in Ibiza - and how that shifted something profound in me. But the lesson itself didn’t come on the trip - it came later, on the tube, on a grey London day, en route to work.

And that in itself captured the beauty of this lesson: you don’t have to escape to a beautiful island far away to find stillness. But you can let it find you - exactly as you are, here at home, on the most mundane train journey ever…

Truth 1: Life has its funny ways of giving us exactly what we need the moment we stop chasing it. Honour your Heart daily. That’s the only ritual that matters.

Read my full Ibiza story here 📖

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My journey then continued to the beautiful countryside of Provence, where hidden in the small village of Maussane, I got a rare opportunity to curate a brand new lifestyle for a week - and imagine what living there full time would be like.

Do you know this feeling when you are so sure something is happening? But there is a part of you that also knows it is so close… just maybe not quite time for it yet? That’s how those 10 days in our little country house felt.

I made a point earlier that we don’t have to escape a million miles away to find ourselves - and I stand by it.

However, I can’t deny the environment we choose to be in has a very big role to play. Imagine floating with the current instead of constantly swimming against it. That’s exactly what my Provencal escape felt like. A deep sigh out after a very intense month, spring, year? Honestly, I stopped counting a long time ago.

It was somewhere in-between the daily sunset walks, long strolls to the market and permission to take each day as it comes, that I made a commitment to take 3 full months off any coaching work.

No marketing, no events, no 1:1s - just an empty diary. I am not going to lie and pretend that didn’t scare me. But it was exactly why I knew it had to be done. And it is already showing me this is the best decision I could’ve ever made.

Truth 2: The less you do, the more you get. Don’t be afraid to take a “time-out”. The more we physically slow down, the more our energy and power speed up.

…And a Dare

It is precisely this feeling of empowerment through stillness that inspired my invitation for this month:

What is that one project, one opportunity, one move, you have been fearing the most? The one that really freaks you out, yet it keeps coming back no matter what you do? The one that feels like a real stretch; a big, uncomfortable push?

I think you know exactly which one I am talking about.

Take one step closer to it this month.

You decide how big or small. As long as you get out of the comfortable cocoon you’ve knitted for yourself - and step forward.

And because our logical minds always search for proof and examples, I’ll give you the perfect one.

A few months ago, I extended a special invitation on social media. Special because it was the 50th episode of the Business as Poetry podcast - and it was time to celebrate all the non-linear, multi-potentialites who made the show what it is today by sharing their stories.

So I decided to take a leap of faith - and send an open invitation to my community to find our next guest - together.

We searched far and wide but when Tamsyn Signe showed up, I knew she was the one.

Her resume was impressive: over two decades of commercial experience in senior leadership positions, an acrobatics world championship entry under her belt and a professional freediving safety diver license… The definition of a non-linear career!

Yet, despite all of her achievements, she was still nervous to show the world the other side of her - the coach, the teacher, the guide and mentor.

But she said yes anyway. Which is perhaps the whole point of this month’s dare.

Not feeling ready. Yet taking one step closer - today.

You can listen to our conversation below.

In this video Tamsyn shares a beautiful Enneagram resource for those who want to explore their next step through the lens of personality.

You can listen to the full episode on Apple, Spotify or YouTube .

And don’t forget to support us by subscribing and giving the show a 5 star rating so we grow and reach more beautiful souls 🙏

As for me, you know where to find me this month.

I will be on my writing desk, honing in on my craft and supporting this beautiful community of writers, poets, entrepreneurs and free souls. There’s nothing that give me more joy currently.

After so many ups and downs of trying to define what Business as Poetry is, I think I’ve nailed it down:

I am not here to tell you how. I am here to hold the space.

Perhaps that is what loving myself more looked like all along. Not becoming someone else. Not pushing harder. Just trusting the truth underneath all the noise.

That is real poetry to me.

Love,

Hrissy xx

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“Are we human? Or are we dancers?

The Killers song is playing out loud in the hotel lobby as I nervously check in.

I have done it again - I felt a calling, I booked a retreat (not even reading the programme beforehand), and just went off on an instinct - hoping to get some much need answers. And inspiration to come back to my writing after a 3 month hiatus.

It is early May and I have just landed on the beautiful island of Ibiza. Little do I know I am about to experience one of the most profound transformational experiences of my life. I just sense that there is something bubbling up, but I can’t quite put a finger on it. Perhaps a story waiting to be told. That I just can’t seem to start…

Day 1

Day 1 comes and I meet my partner in crime for this journey - she has kindly offered to give me a lift.

Soon I will find out that we have not been picked to work together at random - we are perfectly reflecting each other’s pain, desires, lessons and gifts.

It is raining heavily and the road to the top of the mountain is treacherous to say the least. We make it safely (in the end!) and both feel an immense sense of relief for what is now behind us - both the potholes and the stories we shared of our past. It’s almost as if the mountain has given us permission to leave everything at the door - and focus on what is here, now, instead.

Together with 6 other women, we are about to enter a sacred circle - woven by the heart-felt desires, longings and wishes each of us has put in the alchemical fire in the middle.

I step inside…

***

The day is rainy, but it feels cozy inside. I am sat on a sheep skin rug and I have just had the cry of my life.

I got answers I asked for, I suppose, but none of them make sense right now. Frankly, it frightens me a bit. But I have committed to listening, even when I do not like what I hear, so I write them down on a piece of paper and close my notebook. I will come back to those later.

Now I crave sleep, comfort and quiet time. We head back to town in silence. Tomorrow’s another day. And the sun has finally come out.

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Day 2

Day 2 brings a different emotion altogether. Today is not about lamenting, but about creating.

Our group has expanded, our hearts too. We feel familiar and safe with each other by now. I invite some very welcome reflections from the group. I enjoy seeing myself in a new light - through their eyes.

We start crafting our stories - new narratives to take us beyond the limitations of what we thought we knew. I love that so much - that we are here together, that we hold and support each other, that we allowed ourselves to be here - in full presence.

We are creating something special together. The world outside of this circle can wait a little longer. It’s time to dance now. And celebrate the energy that brought us here.

***

Have you heard that expression - blink and it’s gone? That’s how I feel at the end of the day, 48 hours since I stepped on the island for the very first time.

I sit in awe of what just happened - how is it that such work can lead you on a journey to the corners of your soul never touched before? What have we created just now, the 8 of us? Were we chosen specifically for this experiment so we can complement each other’s experience so perfectly - and mirror our closely guarded secrets back to one another?

“It’s the power of the circle” - someone says. I nod with a smile. We are dancing and hugging each other. “I have to bring more of these experiences to the world” - I say to myself quietly. I write it down before I can change my mind.

We bid farewell, I pack up my bags and get ready to fly back to reality. My story remains to be written. But I no longer feel alone.

Fast forward 2 days and I’m sitting on the tube - back in London, dressed up in my finest suit, going to work. Then I suddenly pull up my phone and start typing. It’s as if somebody else is dictating:

“What if there was no problem to fix?

What if the answers to all questions didn’t need to be rushed? And came from presence and silence instead?

What if we refused to be moved by the busyness and rush around us… and just stood still?

What if we chose the scenic road, even if it was full of potholes?

What if we stopped distracting ourselves - and found such vastness of time and space instead?

What if there was no need to explain - just transmit?”

As if emboldened by my own words, I get off the train carriage and decide to to make an experiment - then and there. It goes like this:

The next day the train is delayed, but I feel a strange joy bubbling up inside me, that catches me off-guard. “How great is it I get to sit longer with my thoughts. Now that I can finally hear them - I almost wish for the journey not to end. I can finally work on my story”.

The more I repeat this to myself, the more it becomes my new mantra.

Throughout the rest of the week I start to see things differently. What if I applied this “radical idea” to all other “delays” in life too - and started seeing them as bonus time to perfect this current chapter … rather than crying over when I will get to the next?

A few weeks later I observe something peculiar - the more I stopped rushing for the trains, the more they came exactly as I stepped on the platform. And kept on coming.

***

By now you may be wondering - but what really happened in the circle?

In full honesty, I wish to let that secret rest on the island. As this is not a story about what happened, but about what emerged after. After I allowed myself to sit still - and observe in visceral silence.

Because that’s when the most important discovery came - I called it my “Radical Idea”:

Creativity does not seem particularly interested in my deadlines. I spent years assuming the opposite.

And the answers that matter most never arrive when I demand them. Instead, they emerge from that shaky, not quite fully formed territory.

Just as this story revealed itself the moment I stopped chasing it.

As I made that commitment to myself - to take intentional moments of stillness every single day - something curious happened.

That “I-don’t-know-how-many-years-old” pain on my left side eased.

I noticed it one day and then another. And another.

“Was that you, Heart?” I found myself wondering. “Were you trying to tell me something all those years?”.

I smiled at the mystery of it.

That same night I share a voice note with the girls. This circle is now complete. And my story has just been written. 🧡

If you’d like to find out more about the incredible women behind the circle I attended you can find Jelena and Alexis’s work here. Or you can read Alexis’ own Substack - I promise it’s a treat!

And if you’d like to know what shifted after I came back from Ibiza - you can find my latest weekly musings here.

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Truth begins like this — the joy you’ve been searching for suddenly arrives, right when you least expect her.

This week I’ve been oscillating between truth and non-truth, movement and stillness, violent ups and downs, all connected by an unmistakable electricity running deep in my bones.

I am finishing this essay by candlelight, wondering where all these emotions came from.

On one side, it feels like home. Aliveness. Forgetting and forgiving. There is love in my heart.

Yet, there is some heaviness there too. Disappointment. Bitterness I did not expect to find. The final traces of all the things I wanted but did not get. The moments I tried to prove my worth — even when I knew better. The times I wished I were someone else.

I close my eyes and let that settle. It is a lot.

The words reverberate in my body. And I am surprised to find that I no longer want to fight them.

“I am allowed to slow down,” the voice whispers.

Then it rises, firmer:

“I am allowed to take time. I am allowed to make small steps. I am allowed to stop growing — but continue to expand.”

At that last sentence something erupts.

“You peddle wellbeing, connection, grounding — and still measure yourself by likes, money, visibility.”

The anger startles me.

Is it mine? Or does it belong to something larger — the collective exhaustion of pretending we are untouched by the very system we critique?

I feel guilt. I feel shame. I feel rage. For all the times I thought I was better. For all the times I didn’t trust my gut. For all the times I asked others for their opinions and valued them more than mine. It burns, and it burns deep. To the point I no longer know if these feelings are mine alone to carry.

I write and re-write the same paragraph a thousand times, but all the metaphors about breathing in and out, moons, stars, trees and paths, they feel foreign all of a sudden. I feel weak. I break down and cry as I delete the whole ending in rage.

I feel for myself, holding all of that in for so long. This has been what has been burning in me all week.

In a world where old masks are finally slipping, I too need to stop feeling like a fraud. This new identity I’ve taken — the teacher, the somatic guide, the healing author, the space holder — feels like big shoes to step into. And if I am to make it any further into this world, I need to let all that self-directed scrutiny go.

I step outside and let the cool air calm my engines down. I guess there is more to me than being a self-help, “heal the world” kind of author. I will have to learn to live with the fire and make space for it more often. It starts to rain.

As I sit, I see ravens sweep across the horizon. For a moment I envy them — their lift, their ease, their vantage point above it all.

But I am not a raven. I am here. On the path. Step by step.

And perhaps this road — slow, uncertain, human — will lead somewhere just as beautiful. There is only one way to find out.

I collect myself, brush the raindrops off my coat and go inside to hit publish and send.

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What if this was the year that changed everything?

Even writing that, my heart skipped a beat.

That’s how I know it’s truth speaking — not fear, not doubt, not shame.

Because those are the voices we’re used to hearing when change approaches.

What if I fail?

What if it’s too difficult?

What if it’s not the right time?

What if I lose more than I gain?

We rarely pause to ask the opposite.

What if the change you’re contemplating is the single, game-shifting decision that brings you closer to everything your heart desires?

To me, that is the true invitation of the Year of the Fire Horse. Not chaos. Not recklessness. But courage. Speed with clarity. The willingness to begin again — not as a burden, but as a clean slate.

Big decisions await - without a doubt. And I am not exempt from them.

When I began this 7-week writing immersion, I set myself a challenge: could I deepen the power of my written word? Could I lean into craft over camera, ink over microphone?

And yet my spoken voice is calling me strongly again. What if that isn’t contradiction — but integration? What if the change I’ve been craving is far simpler than I had imagined? What if I already have what I need?

These are my questions. You will have your own. But beneath them all I sits an even deeper one:

Who do you choose to be this year?

Not what do you want to achieve.

Who are you becoming — energetically, mentally, spiritually?

Not what promises will you make.

Earlier this winter, I wrote that I wasn’t ready for resolutions. I still stand by that. I don’t believe in promises made under pressure. I believe in decisions made from identity.

So instead of asking what you will do this year, ask:

What do I choose for myself?

To support you in feeling into that identity — rather than thinking your way into it — I invite you to join me for two powerful visualisations I call the Sun and the Moon.

Part 1 - Sun Visualisation

The Sun is your fullest expression. Your radiance. The version of you that takes up space without apology.

Part 2 - Moon Visualisation

The Moon is your quiet power. Your intuition. The part of you that knows before it speaks.

You can explore them in one sitting or over two days. Let the experiences wash over you. Do not label them. Do not filter them to make them convenient for your current reality. Just feel into the experience.

You are welcome to share what you chose for yourself this year in the comments. Let the collective field of this circle amplify the power of your decision - safe in the knowing it is already done.

What if this is the year everything changes — not because you forced it, but because you finally chose it?

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I’ve been reading Pamela Anderson’s Substack journal this week.

There is something in her writing that feels unlabelled. Unmanaged. Untamed. She responds to life as it arrives. She leaves room for the unknown. Probably because there was a time earlier in her life when she let others tell he story for her. Not any more.

It made me think about permission.

How often we look for it in everyone else before returning to our own truth. As if someone might hand us a certificate that says: yes, you may write this. Yes, you may be this.

Earlier this week, instead of a shopping list, I wrote a seven-point manifesto in the form of gratitude:

For my amazing team and allowing myself to be supported.
For knowing intuitively what to trust — and whom.
For knowing deep in my body what feels right — and wrong.
For listening in, not performing.
For trusting the Higher Intelligence that is always guiding me.
For feeling at home in my body.
For getting good sleep and putting my needs first.

It felt like anchoring. Something to return to when the unknown feels too wide.

Then one evening, after a long day at work, I wrote a story. I didn’t plan to. It arrived late at night in a quiet surge of inspiration. I didn’t ask what it was for. I didn’t measure its usefulness. I just wrote. Of radical acceptance.

Here it is.

I look at the calendar and wonder — when did the digital calendars replace good old wall ones? There’s something reassuring about having each day marked in a box. You always know where you are and what to do.

Oh well. I better get going. The kids will be downstairs any minute now. It’s almost drop-off time.

I glance at my watch and it hits me — today is not my day. They’re with their dad. Of course. I still forget sometimes. What is wrong with me?

Embarrassed, I grab my bag and keys and jump in the car. Where to? My yoga mat is staring at me from the passenger seat, but I ignore it and start the engine.

Before my mind has the chance to protest, I hit the road. I don’t know what made me do it, but I am so glad I did. The wrong turn turns out to be the right one. Instead of the dry cleaners, I find myself at the lake.

I had always wanted to go there. Never found the time. Well, now I have it. Isn’t that what I had fought for? Never mind. Let’s just park and get some fresh air, the walk will surely help to clear my head.

The path is muddy from last night’s rain. The sun peeks through the clouds. I take off the mac I had thrown on hastily that morning, as if I’d wanted to leave the kitchen as quickly as possible. Maybe I did.

Suddenly I stop - it’s perfect here. Secluded, yet sunny. Private, yet far from the road. At this hour everyone is at work or back home after the school run.

I know why I came to the water. I’ve been dreaming about it for a long time. Though I still like to pretend it was coincidence.

I undress quickly, pull the swimsuit from the bottom of my bag, and jump in before I can change my mind.

Oh the bliss! The freshness. I expected it to be colder, but it feels exactly right. A soothing feeling spreads through my entire body. I am proud. I did it. I can do this again. I am allowed.

I swim across the length of the lake a few times before climbing onto a rock on the other side. Little Mermaid I am. Like the one we saw in Copenhagen years ago - our last trip as a family.

The pain rises to my chest and I can’t contain it any longer. I wail there, on the rock. But I welcome it this time.

And as my tears stream down my cheeks and into the lukewarm water, I whisper:

“Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for meeting me, sorrow. I had been patiently waiting for you.”

It has been five years.

It is time to let go.

I don’t know if this is fiction. The line has always been blurred for me.

All I know is that sometimes the wrong turn takes us exactly where we need to go. And sometimes grief waits patiently by the water until we are ready to meet it.

Permission granted.

One of the greatest joys of writing this essay has been narrating it with my own voice.

So if you prefer listening to reading, you will find the audio voice over on top of this page - enjoy!

A Spark, A Tide, A Challenge

I don’t know if it’s the time of year, the days finally getting longer or the first signs of spring, but I have felt a calling to step back into deeper waters lately.

That is why, for the next seven weeks, as we count down to the spring equinox, I have decided to hone my own craft in a brand new way: one essay each week, written by hand before it reaches you. A conscious return to ink and paper. A personal challenge. A devotion to art and craft itself. And a mustering of the courage to share with the world — uninvited.

This isn’t pretending to be a course, nor am I going to be teaching any frameworks — I believe the world already has plenty. What I want to share instead is my creative process — unfolded and vulnerable in its roughness, but exactly what I need right now.

I am writing my way towards the Spring Equinox — and towards the opening of Business as Poetry, my paid membership circle celebrating our collective return to leadership as an art form.

This series is for those who feel a fire burning within, despite the strategies, calendars, and the many “shoulds” of modern day life. For those successful enough to know success isn’t the point — and longing for their work to feel alive again.

These seven weeks will not offer a formula. Instead, they will reveal a process of remembering. Mine first — and perhaps yours alongside it. Take what resonates. Leave what wants to be left. This voyage begins at the Full Moon, marking a turning of the tide.

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Why This, Why Now

I have always thought of myself as a catalyst, a fire starter, someone who holds space for transformation. Words — written and spoken — have always been my element.

Yet I’ve been asking a different question this season: can I lean further into the written world, instead of leaning so heavily on speaking, which feels so much more familiar? Where am I still hiding behind a moon lit shadow? What happens when I lean towards discomfort deliberately, and meet it with curiosity instead of resistance?

For years I have held space for the transformations of others. Now I am documenting my own. My writing becomes the vessel, instigating change that spreads like fire.

Over the next seven weeks, together we will explore the elements that our turn craft into art, work into devotion, business into poetry — week by week, element by element, following what wants to be spoken.

Week one is devoted to the alchemical fire of transformation - and a reminder that all revolutions started with a spark.

Let the journey begin.

The Fire - A Visualisation

Look at this fire — it is blue, yellow and green. Now look at it again with your eyes closed.

This is a special kind of fire — one that can’t be put out, but can be forgotten.

Look at it closely — how it is shimmering, dancing, glowing, casting its flickering light off the wall. It is inviting. It is intriguing.

You carry this fire in you — it was given to you at birth. It brought you here.

If you are reading this — I know there is a fire burning in you. Burning with desire for change, with rage, with grief, with longing and purpose. Perhaps all at once.

But don’t worry. This fire won’t burn you. It only burns what no longer serves.

This fire is not a lighthouse stationed safely on shore. It is at sea. It guides us away from the familiar coastline into deeper waters, into the landscape of our own interior world. We are not passengers. We are the captains.

This fire brings space, not devastation. Beneath a calm surface, it burns steadily. You see a little glimpse of what is ahead…

…And then it turns dark again. Who blew the candle off? Oh, I see, did you open your eyes?

The Moon - Illumination

By now you will have realised that this fire is the art, the purpose and the calling, a miraculous gift we each get given at birth, yet we so stubbornly forget.

This week, I am sitting with a single question: what is the spark that started everything? Not the business plan, not the strategy, but the moment I knew this work mattered deeply to me.

I sit with that question for a while. I am not trying to analyse it — I know better by now. The moment I do, it vanishes like thin smoke in the air. Instead, I am feeling into it. “Close your eyes and you may see it. Open them and it vanishes”. That is how gifts work. They are not meant to be captured or explained. They are meant to be remembered, felt, followed.

I look up at the sky and notice the full moon has risen again on the horizon. I grab my pen and paper and write the first words that come out:

“I don’t believe I could write about anything other than what burns in me.”

And that — it turns out — was the gift all along.

My Invitation For You

As you move through this week, I invite you to notice when you feel most like yourself — when the work stops feeling like work and you forget you are supposed to be building something — and find yourself simply creating instead, losing track of time. That is where the creative fire lives.

Visualise this fire whenever you need a reminder that there is a deeper reason for doing this work. Then grab a pen and paper and write whatever needs to come out that day. Trust that it will always be the right answer.

Next week, with our torches lit, we journey home — back to our tribes, back to belonging, back to the people who need our gifts as much as we need to share them — our community. This is element 2 of what makes you — you, and turns business into poetry.

Thank you for joining me on this beautiful journey - and I can’t wait to welcome you to our Circle in only a few weeks!

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Welcome to day seven - the final day. ✨

I allowed myself to be held deeply this week by joining in every practice. I listened to the quieter voice — the higher intelligence that told me to do this now, at this exact moment in the year. And the truth is: I needed it for myself more than anyone else.

And I loved every minute of it.

Even the adrenaline of writing late into the evening one night. Even the tiredness. Even the moments of doubt. It was all part of the rhythm. And part of the fun.

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WHAT EMERGED

What began as a simple container unfolded organically into something much more complete. Each day we touched a different integral part of the Business as Poetry method:

1. Permission to create without knowing where it’s going.

2. Play as a way of working, not a break from it.

3. Voice that’s truly yours, not performed.

4. Shape that emerges from flow, not imposed from outside.

5. Embodiment that brings your body into your business.

6. Rhythm that responds instead of reacts.

7. Integration that weaves it all together.

If you’ve been here with me this week — reading, practising, letting these days work on you — then you’ve already integrated something.

Maybe it’s small. Maybe it’s quiet. Maybe you won’t even notice it for weeks.

But trust that something shifted.

These seven days weren’t about learning something new. They were about remembering something that was always there:

The artist in your business.
The poetry in your work.
The human in the doing.

WHAT I’M TAKING AWAY

Here’s what these seven days gave me:

I’ve reconnected to my higher energetic identity. I don’t label her as “old” or “new” any more— she simply is. I know who this woman is now, and I make decisions from that place whenever I can. When I can’t, I just rest.

I’m allowing emotions to come without judging or trying to change them — just sitting in them. Trusting the body’s intelligence. This is somatic work in practice, not theory.

I’ve learned — again — to bless the mess. To trust that what I know now is enough. The rest will arrive in its own time. Divine timing isn’t passive; it’s precise.

I’ve anchored a simple, powerful ritual: three minutes before anything that feels charged or difficult. Not to push through, but to pause and ask — which part of me is avoiding this? What does it need first?

I’ve found my own creative rhythm — and I know what is sustainable and what I can commit to once I launch my paid Substack community offer this spring.

I’ve been reminded to focus on the people, not the numbers — metrics can guide, but they are never the purpose. Relationship is.

And finally, I’ve re-acknowledged what brings me the deepest pleasure: connecting with people, creating together, and moving through the world. Travel, conversation, shared experience.

So this year will be all about bringing more of those events to you. Online and in real life. We can get the best of both worlds.

The question now is simple: what aligned action am I taking to commit?

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A CLOSING PRACTICE — THE LIVING CONSTELLATION

Before we close this circle, I invite you into one final, gentle practice. Not to analyse your life — but to feel into it.

(Inspired by a recent post by Beth Kempton you can find here).

Take a notebook and a pen and, without overthinking (it might be helpful to set a a 10 minute timer), map out the constellation of people in your world right now. Individuals. Groups. Spaces. Communities. This can include people you create with, work with, learn from, love, or quietly witness from afar.

As you write each name or cluster, pause and notice:
How does my body respond?

• Does this connection bring warmth? Expansion? Gratitude?

• Does it stir tension, doubt, resentment, or fatigue?

• Does something feel nourishing — or draining?

• Is there excitement? Pride? Relief?

Next, ask yourself:
What part of me is supported by each of these connections?

• Let gratitude arise for what’s already here.

• Let pride surface for what you’ve built and sustained.

• Let excitement point you towards what wants more space next.

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And finally notice if anything is missing. Not from a place of lack — but curiosity.

A new collaboration? A deeper friendship? A mentor? A community? A boundary?

You don’t need to resolve anything today. Just seeing the pattern is enough.

Carry this constellation with you as you step forward. Let it remind you that your work, your voice, your business — none of it exists in isolation. It all lives in the relationships we nurture into our lives.

ALIGNED ACTION

So what action am I taking to commit to all of this?

Starting tomorrow, I’ll be bringing all of my work under one umbrella — podcast, Substack community, business mentoring, and events — Business as Poetry. An integration indeed!

These days have confirmed something I already knew in my body: there is no better name I could have chosen for my brand and business. It holds the magic and the precision. The art and the acumen. The fire and the act of service.

It’s a space for women who want both — a thriving business and a living art practice. Who want to make money and have more time. To lead and to create from the heart - not just the mind.

This week wasn’t about launching something new. It was about remembering what’s already true.

And from here — we integrate.

WHAT’S NEXT

This circle is now complete. But the work continues.

I’ll be here — on this Substack, on the podcast, in my mentoring work and in the events I’m planning.

Holding space for the people who know that business doesn’t have to be soulless.
That strategy and somatics can coexist.
That you can make money and make meaning.
That success and wholeness aren’t opposites.

If that resonates, stay close. There’s more to come.

And finally: a big thank you for being here. For trusting this process. And for giving yourself these seven days.

This is Business as Poetry.

And you’re part of it.

Love,

Hrissy ✨

← Day 6: Rhythm

Welcome to day six. ✨

Today was a slow day.

And I can feel that something from last night’s embodiment practice shifted more deeply than I expected.

It reminded me of something simple, but easy to forget: the best art, the best work, the most aligned offers and ideas don’t come from trying to figure things out on a schedule. They don’t arrive because we sit down and demand clarity. They come from energy — from being rested, balanced, nourished by the people and activities we love.

On the surface, today might have looked mundane. I went to the gym. I cleaned the house. I wrote this post. I sat down with my marketing assistant to plan the monthly rhythm...

And that’s where I paused.

Did I just say rhythm?

I realised I wasn’t talking about a “monthly content plan” anymore. I was talking about rhythm — my rhythm. The rhythm of Business as Poetry. The rhythm of the season. The rhythm of the energies around me.

That felt new. And it felt important.

What if, instead of filling calendars, we followed a natural cadence? What if our creative businesses moved the same way life does — by responding rather than forcing?

I noticed the same shift while doing household tasks today. Things that used to irritate me now felt different. Not because they changed, but because I did. I could suddenly see them as service, not servitude — as part of an exchange of care between me and my partner, who holds so much else for me.

When did that shift happen?

Maybe it’s the new year. Maybe it’s the practices we’ve been doing together this week. Maybe it’s the people I have around me. Or maybe it’s all of it, quietly working in the background.

At the gym, the same thing happened. I didn’t need my phone to track time. I let my body lead. I let it choose the exercises, the pace, the rhythm. And it was perfect — I left feeling charged, present and inspired.

There it was again: rhythm.

LISTENING TO ANOTHER RHYTHM

Today is not about learning something new. It’s about remembering something ancient.

Earlier this week, we explored permission, play, voice, shape, and embodiment — mostly from the inside out. Today, the field widens. We listen. We witness. We let another body, another rhythm, another life reflect something back to us.

Today’s offering is a conversation with my dear friend Nimisha Sajith — a yoga teacher, sound healer, dancer, and deeply embodied human — but more than that, it is a living example of what happens when judgement softens and rhythm is allowed to emerge naturally.

What struck me most as we spoke was not any single insight, but the quality of her presence.

There was a certain steadiness to it. A gentleness. A lack of urgency.

And that quality didn’t arrive through striving or discipline alone, but through years of learning how to respond rather than react. How to stop judging the body for where it is. How to let practice meet life, instead of asking life to bend around practice.

Nimi speaks openly about burnout, about losing herself while trying to be perfect — at work, in family life, in meeting expectations. And about how messy the in-between was when she finally stopped.

So I invite you to take a gentle step back today. Pause right in the middle of whatever feels urgent or pressing. And instead explore where the rhythm lives.

Today’s invitation comes in two parts:

PART 1: IN CONVERSATION WITH NIMI

Once again, I invite you to meet this conversation through your own lens. Listen deeply. Notice what resonates. Allow any ideas to pass through the mind — and then gently release them, the same way they arrived.

When you’re ready, find a quiet place where you can sit or lie down. If it feels safe, softly close your eyes and let the sounds of Nimi’s voice and singing bowls wash over you. Three minutes is all you need today.

You deserve that gift..

PART 2: NIMI’S SOUND HEALING PRACTICE

I strongly recommend that you use your headphones to get the maximum benefit out of this beautiful sound healing:

As you listen, bring gentle attention to the body. Notice any sensations as they arise:

Perhaps something slows. Perhaps something softens. Perhaps something familiar feels suddenly available again.

And if nothing stands out right away, that’s perfectly fine. It simply reflects where you are today — and that is enough.

Trust the process. Let the body do what it knows best.

RHYTHM IN PRACTICE - A CONFESSION

Something interesting came up for me after listening.

And it made me realise I have to share something with you:

Every time I sit down to write one of these daily notes, I meet resistance. Doubt creeps in. The judging mind asks its familiar questions: What’s the point? Is this good enough to hit send? Is anyone even reading?

And yet, I keep showing up.

Not by doing more — but by doing less. By stepping back. Today, that meant taking just three minutes before writing to do Nimi’s energetic reset. Three minutes.

The difference was immediate.

I felt the vibration move through my head, as if clearing out old spider webs of thoughts, patterns, and worries that no longer needed to be carried. It travelled down to my throat, to my heart — clearing the way for something more honest to speak.

Presence changes everything.

Even a few minutes a day can help you find your rhythm again. What if you created a new ritual - to do a short 3-minute practice of letting go every time you face a challenging task? Or that thing you have been putting off forever…. and you don’t really know why? Sound, meditation, breathing or just sitting quietly with the intention for a few minutes - explore freely what works and let me know in the comments what shifted for you.

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TAKE THIS WITH YOU TODAY

So today’s lesson is simple: do more of that.

Let this be a day of listening. Not just to Nimi. But to your own body, your own business, your own pace.

I must admit that after nearly a full week of doing these practices with you, something is already shifting — in me, and in my business.

What used to feel like a mess, a jungle of loose ends and unfinished thoughts, is still untidy… but it no longer bothers me. The urgency to have it all figured out by a certain date has loosened its grip.

I’m good here.

I have a vague sense of direction, but no fixed plan for how to get there. And strangely, that feels like the secret.

Trust that.

TOMORROW: DAY 7 - INTEGRATION♾️

We’ve moved through permission, play, voice, shape, embodiment, and rhythm.

Tomorrow we weave it all together — not to lock it in, but to let it live with us.

See you for the final day.

Love,
Hrissy 🎶💃

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ABOUT NIMI

Nimisha Sajith is a yoga teacher and sound healer based in Dubai. After experiencing burnout as a school teacher, she discovered yoga and trained professionally in India. She now guides people through practices that help them stop fighting themselves and find their own rhythm.

Find Nimi on Instagram @YogaWithNimi
Or join her live classes @ZoyaWellbeing

Thank you, Nimi. 🙏✨

← Day 5: Embodiment | Day 7: Integration →

Welcome to day five. ✨

This note is coming to you late in the evening, on a cold January night.

One of those days when the snow fell, the trains were disrupted, and nothing ran on time. Except — perhaps — exactly what needed to.

Somewhere between delayed platforms and shifting plans, I was given an unexpected gift: time. A window to sit back, accept that the perfect schedule I had in my mind was no longer relevant, and trust that there was a lesson in that disruption.

And there was.

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Because embodiment isn’t just a practice you do. It’s what happens when life forces you to stop living in your head and drop back into your body.

The moment I stepped off that train, I realised I had been moved into a different timeline altogether. One that asked me to slow down. To pause. To take the scenic route. To spend an unhurried afternoon with a dear friend before doing anything else.

I needed that delay more than I knew.

BLESS THE MESS

I had been carrying too much for too long — too many ideas, too many threads open at once, a familiar feeling of failing at everything and not knowing where to begin, what to focus on, or what to let go of.

“Radical acceptance,” my friend Hannie said gently, as I shared what was moving through me. “Work with what works, and bless the rest.”

That’s how she approaches each painting she creates (you will recall the beautiful practice she shared with us on Day 2).

Something in me softened.

“Bless the mess?” I repeated back — choosing to hear it that way, and then repeating it quietly to myself. Again and again. I had found it. The permission to peace and quiet I’d been searching for.

I don’t know if it was the homemade gingerbread cookies, the warmth of her home, or the snow falling outside at sunset — but something in me released.

And so today’s morning post became an evening somatic practice.

THE PRACTICE — EMBODIMENT IN MOTION

This practice is a lived lesson in embodiment of everything I teach: dropping back into the internal clock of the body, loosening the grip on agendas and schedules (the trains made sure of that), and listening instead to what wants to come today — when and how — trusting its expression and its power.

This practice didn’t come from my thinking mind. It arrived from somewhere higher, quieter, wiser. As if the words were dictated through me while I jotted notes on the way home. I left judgment aside, closed my eyes, and let the body lead.

And something else became clear too: I am an open channel of light.

I needed Hannie to remind me — but once she did, I could feel it in my bones. This was my first time guiding a somatic practice publicly, and it came through beautifully.

I invite you to meet this practice slowly. Light a candle if it feels right. Close your eyes when you’re ready. Let the words wash over you and notice what resonates — and what doesn’t. Both are welcome.

Trust that the body knows exactly what to do.

INTEGRATION

If you listen closely, you’ll notice that this practice doesn’t ask you to fix anything, visualise a better future, or set intentions for what comes next. Instead, it gently brings you back into the room you’re in. Into the chair beneath you. Into the breath that’s already there. Into the body as a place of knowing.

You’re invited to connect not through effort, but through sensation — touch, sound, warmth, weight. To feel support before you try to create it. To remember the constellation of people, memories, and energies that already hold you.

To connect with frequencies rather than goals — certainty, truth, power, stillness — not as concepts to understand, but as vibrations to notice. To sense where they live in you. How the body responds before the mind forms an opinion.

This is embodiment as I understand it: allowing the body to lead, letting meaning settle through feeling, and trusting that what needs to be integrated will find its place without force. Taking the body with us as we move forward.

TAKE THIS WITH YOU TODAY

Your body knows things your mind can’t solve.

We’ve practiced permission, play, voice, and shape over these past days. But without embodiment — without bringing your body with you — all of that stays in your head.

Today, we dropped it into the body - and into radical acceptance. Here things get messy. delayed, disrupted - but that’s exactly where the magic happens.

And if you’re like me — carrying too many threads, feeling like you’re failing at everything, not knowing where to begin — bless the mess.

Work with what works.
Release the rest.
Let the body show you what’s next.

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TOMORROW: DAY 5 — RHYTHM 🎶

Tomorrow we explore creative cadence — finding a pace that sustains us instead of draining us. A rhythm we can actually live with.

And I’m inviting another beautiful soul to guide us — Nimiha Sajith, a yoga teacher and sound healer who will share the medicine of singing bowls and mantra.

See you in the morning (or evening) - let it be what it wants to be.

Love,

Hrissy 🌿✨

← Day 4: Shape | Day 6: Rhythm→

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Welcome to day four. ✨

Today starts slow.

It is the first day of the year, and I am in no rush to do anything at all. The world will understand. This is the lingering collective hangover that settles between the holidays — a liminal stretch of reset and slowdown, of quiet revelry, of light slowly returning to the northern hemisphere, albeit not just yet.

This threshold moment inevitably brings thoughts of transition and transformation: yin and yang, light and dark, water and fire. But today, I feel called to offer a slightly different lens. One that moves beyond polarity and instead invites us into duality — not as a tension to resolve, but as something to welcome without resistance.

Nowhere is this felt more clearly than in the relationship between form and flow.

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A BEAUTIFUL WORLD - AN INVITATION

Today’s practice is inspired by A Beautiful World by James Norbury.

I’ve long been drawn to Eastern philosophy, and his quiet, poetic way of translating that wisdom — through both words and images — spoke directly to my heart.

I’m sharing a few passages with you today. Reflections on the journey we’ve each travelled this past year, and the subtle signs nature offers us when we’re willing to slow down and notice.

After listening, I invite you to take your notebook and pen, and sit with the prompts below.

THE PRACTICE

Look back at your own journey this past year:

Which landscape did you travel through — the mountains, the caves, the swamp, the barrens, the forest?

What did you learn there? What did you discover?

Write what each place taught you. Let the words come without forcing them.
Let the form emerge without pursuing it.

This is the balance we are practising: flow and form, wildness and containment, freedom and shape.

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TAKE THIS WITH YOU TODAY

Flow needs form. Creativity needs a container. Wildness needs gentle boundaries in order to be held.

And yet, form without flow becomes rigid. Structure without breath becomes suffocating.

I’ve felt both sides of this.

When I first started Business as Poetry, I had all flow and no form. Ideas everywhere, energy scattered, nothing landing. I kept waiting for clarity before I built anything.

Then I swung the other direction — rigid plans, perfect timelines, content calendars. And everything felt dead on arrival.

What I’ve learned is this: The river doesn’t choose her riverbed. But she also doesn’t fight it.

She moves within the form that’s given — carving through rock when needed, softening around obstacles, rising and falling with the seasons. She serves simply by being what she is: power, nourishment, shelter. She never runs back to the spring. She doesn’t question where she’s headed. She responds.

This is what I’m practicing every day: Building the form (the podcast, the Substack, the circles, the 1:1 mentoring ) — and then letting the flow move through it. Not forcing the direction. Not clinging to the outcome. Just trusting that if I keep moving, something will be nourished along the way.

And here’s what that means for you:

If you’ve been all flow — ideas, inspiration, possibility, but nothing taking shape — maybe this year is about building one simple container and seeing what wants to move through it.

If you’ve been all form — plans, systems, structures, but everything feels lifeless — maybe this year is about loosening your grip and letting things breathe.

Today’s practice already gave you both: You listened (form: receiving the words, holding the structure). You wrote (flow: what emerged without forcing).

That’s it. That’s the balance. Just noticing what wants to take shape, and giving it room to move.

TOMORROW: DAY 5 — EMBODIMENT 🌿

Your body knows things your mind can’t solve.

Tomorrow’s practice brings us out of the head and back into sensation, intuition, and inner truth with a guided embodiment practice.

This is where clarity lands — not through analysing what is, but through feeling it and allowing it to simply be.

See you in the morning.

Love,

Hrissy ✨🌀

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← Day 3: Voice | Day 5: Embodiment→

Welcome to day three. ✨

And to my favorite topic — the voice.

Here I am, typing the next essay away, having cleared a ton of blockages along the way that reared their ugly heads one last time ahead of stepping into the new year and the energy it brings.

I can hardly contain how excited I am because I’ve always considered voice to be my trademark, my tool, my masterpiece. And I am finally content - being here, doing this with you and being fully present in the process. And grateful for having made that commitment to myself and to you.

YOU’RE PART OF THE COLLECTIVE VOICE

I began today with a meditation and my favourite ritual for resetting the energy and starting with a clean slate each morning. And during the active listening part, one message came clearly - the power of the voice is in the collective. And each of us is part of that. We’re much stronger together than individually - and so is our message, our voice.

Today is not about exercises for the vocal cords (though they can be great too!), practicing how to speak on camera or some cookie cutter technique to help you “find your inner voice”. This is much bigger and deeper than this - and it’s all about what wants to come through you, not by you.

It is about those moments of grounding and clarity that bring us close. It’s like we’ve been plugged back into the most powerful grid. And we can hear the messages clearly - that is the voice I am talking about.

Let me give you an example.

MY PODCAST MOMENT

Whenever I think about releasing my full voice and connecting to that powerful grid of energy, I go back to the moment my first podcast, Sound of Breaking Glass, was born — from my very humble home studio.

I had known for a while that the microphone was calling me, that I had something to say, that I had to do this… But the topic was evading me. What did I want to speak about? I still have the original notes written somewhere after I made a very public commitment to finally starting that year, outlining the first steps and as we’re all conditioned to do, laying out the perfectly timed plan of logical next steps: buy a microphone, design a cover, choose the name, find out how the technical side works.

And that was all great, but the pressure in me was bigger and bigger - the more I planned how to go about doing this, the more I was feeling like an imposter, like a failure, like a fraud. And kept postponing.

Looking back at this now, I see what was missing - the voice hidden in the collective questions: Why was I doing this? Who was I serving? Why me? What was the message I was being called to share with the world?

That is when I first heard the voice: I am serving women. I have experienced something myself - the confusion of finding my own purpose, changing my job (and identity in the process) and building a brand new identity in life and business - all in my mid 30s, while navigating family responsibilities -and in a world that keeps teaching us how things should be done. That’s why I had to speak up - and that was the message I had to amplify and share.

REVEALING ALL PARTS

I wish I could tell you that once I connected to that message, it got easy. But that was only the first step.

There was another element, I only got to discover this year.

Over time, my podcast got polished, professionally filmed and edited, but behind all that, it was the power of that collective voice that still captured the imagination and kept the fire burning. The stories of my guests that we weaved together. The power of the community that I rejoiced in.

Yet, for all the admiration I got for my for my speaking skills, being on camera and always seemingly doing it with ease — I wasn’t fully allowing my voice to come out.

This is not to say that what I was sharing was untrue. It was just that there were parts I intentionally kept hidden.

Of course, we can always keep things to ourselves. But it all comes down to the energy we’re doing this from. Are we keeping things because they’re not ready for the world yet? Or because we’re worried about what others may say? How they may see us, perceive us, judge us? I had to be honest with myself - it was the latter.

I had felt for a while that I was hiding behind the stories of my guests. Too afraid to share my own opinions and thoughts. Too worried about what others will think, say or do. Until I accepted that what others will think, say or do has nothing to do with me - and all with what they were going through, which I don’t get to control. Or be responsible for.

Realising all of this was a long process and a huge relief at the same time. It took the better part of this year.

The theme of shedding the snake’s skin off fit perfectly.

INTEGRATION

Integration and inspiration came in two pieces today:

PART 1

First, I felt compelled to share with you that very personal episode when I finally got out of my own shadow and recorded my first solo episode - talking openly about everything that I had gone through that year.

It captures so beautifully not just the process, but the moment I realised my part in all of this was to share openly. Not just for me, but for everyone else who may recognise themselves in this. Who may need some support as they navigate their own symbolic shedding of the skin.

I must have listened to that episode a dozen times and capture something entirely new each time. I still can’t fully understand what came out that night, but I am so glad I captured it on camera.

PART 2

The second part is an invitation - to create your own version of my podcast moment. I call this the unsent episode.

Grab your phone’s voice recorder and say what you feel has always wanted to come out — no censoring, no planning, and no sharing. Everything that 2025 meant for you - and everything that you are ready to leave behind or welcome as we step into the energy of the new year.

It doesn’t matter if you do this on the 31st of December, the start of the Lunar new year or any other day that may feel right - just follow your impulse and come back to this whenever it feels right. Your body always knows best. Let that voice be the guide.

And know this:
The voice that feels most vulnerable to speak is often the voice that creates the deepest resonance.

Your unedited voice — the one you use when no one’s performing — that’s your real voice. And it’s not just for you to keep - it’s to be shared with the community in its full glory and power.

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INTEGRATIONTOMORROW: DAY 4 — SHAPE 🌊

Tomorrow we continue on this journey. Once we’ve given ourselves permission, remembered how to play, and connected to our voice...

The question becomes: how do we hold it all?

Tomorrow we explore the delicate balance of flow and structure - through a gentle, soothing reflection.

See you in the morning.

Love,
Hrissy 🔮📖

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← Day 2: Play | Day 4: Shape →

Welcome to day two. ✨

Yesterday we gave ourselves permission — to explore freely what wanted to come up, without any judgement, labelling or analysing.

Today, we explore play with a very special guest - artist and coach Hannie Wiering.

But first, I have a confession to make.

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PLAY - AN HONEST CONFESSION

I must admit this post was supposed to be the easiest, but it took the longest to write.

I thought play would be easy. We do this all the time after all, don’t we?

We all understand the concept — don’t attach to expectations, do it for fun, don’t overthink it, go with the flow, manifest your desires... The messages bombard us on social media non-stop.

Yet these concepts often only make it to the first layer — our mind. We understand them conceptually, but that’s where it ends. We stay on the surface. We tell ourselves, I get it, I am playing, I am detaching — but we’re still peeking with one eye to check the result and seek validation externally.

And I wasn’t immune to this.

When I first dreamt up the idea to create this 7-day circle I thought it would be the best social proof I can offer to my mentoring clients - showcasing all that I stand for and teach. A mastermind, a marathon, a sneak peak into my world. Little did I know, it was going to end up being something completely different - a process that I needed to go through myself. I wasn’t teaching this, I was living it. And that made it all the more powerful… and messy.

THE LESSON

I talk about being in the process, but under the pressure of deadlines, I crumbled. As I started writing this essay, there was a disconnect. And even if others couldn’t see it, it was eating me up. I wrote and re-wrote every word, sentence, paragraph. Time was running out, the deadline looming. The pressure of my own expectations and the commitments I had made weighed so heavily on me. To say I felt like a fraud would be an understatement.

But then I remembered Hannie’s voice from our conversation earlier that week — trust your intuition, grab the crayons, just pour it all out.

So I took a step back. I closed down the laptop and just went for a walk. By the time I came back I had given myself the permission slip I had talked about the previous day:

I will let the perfect form and structure go. And I will just write from the heart. As imperfect as it is - it will be just right.

This 7-day co-creation was going to be my embodiment ritual. And I was going to share it here for anyone else going through a similar process. That was the co-creation - living and breathing, beating with its own pulse to the rhythm of a collective heart.

I couldn’t have asked for a better lesson.

THE INVITATION

Today is an invitation to live this process with Hannie and me.

While I didn’t know it at the time, this conversation turned out to be the perfect cure for getting out of the head and dropping back into the body.

I invite you to make a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy being transported into Hannie’s world of wisdom, embodiment and heart coherence for a few brief moments today.

I offer you our conversation first, followed by an 8-minute exploration with Hannie, taking us on a journey through her incredible high-frequency art - what a treat!

PART 1: IN CONVERSATION WITH HANNIE

PART 2: A GUIDED EXPERIENCE WITH HANNIE’S ART

THE INTEGRATION

I must be honest - I feel that very few words are needed here.

What Hannie just showed us so beautifully is the difference between creating from the heart and creating from the head.

This is play.

A way of being in the work while the work itself comes alive.

So my invitation today is to carve out a bit of time to create something. Anything. Just to feel what it’s like to be in high-frequency making.

No outcome. No purpose. Just for the fun of doing it.

Hannie’s advice?

“Find some cheap stuff. Paper, paint, whatever. Don’t make it too complicated. Play like a child. And don’t ever judge yourself — that’s when the thinking mind wants to take over. Go with the flow. Literally.”

Maybe you:

• Paint or draw with whatever supplies you have

• Doodle while on a call

• Rearrange something in your space just because

• Write three sentences that don’t go anywhere

• Move your body to a song that makes you feel alive

• Cook something without a recipe

The medium doesn’t matter. The making does.

Notice: What does it feel like to create when no one’s watching? When nothing’s at stake? Without an audience to impress or likes to count?

That feeling? That’s your compass. I know I am taking this with me today.

TOMORROW: DAY 3 🎤

Once we’ve given ourselves permission and remembered how to play, the question becomes:

What wants to be spoken?

Tomorrow we explore voice — not the polished one, but the one that feels true in the body.

That same one that my logical mind had been editing out of my work, my identity and my way of showing up for years - until I took a very bold step and came out of hiding.

See you in the morning!

Love,

Hrissy 🎨🎇

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ABOUT HANNIE

Hannie Wiering creates high-frequency art that invites transformation, presence, and connection. Her work resonates with the natural qualities of the heart — playfulness, freedom, curiosity, wonder — and serves as a bridge to help you remember who you’ve always been.

She’s also a certified Heart Math coach, guiding people into heart coherence through breathing techniques that align mind, heart, and body.

Connect with Hannie:
→ Website
→ Instagram
→ YouTube

Thank you, Hannie, for sharing your light, your art, and your heart with us. 🙏✨

←Day 1: Permission | Day 3: Voice→

Welcome to day one.❤️

I’m going to be honest with you: I’m writing this on the eve before we’re due to start. I don’t have the next 6 days perfectly planned. I have a structure mapped out, but it’s still vague. I don’t have any workbooks or templates or “5 steps to unlocking your inner artist.”

What I have instead is a knowing that we need this space. And a commitment to show up each day and share what feels alive.

I chose today’s theme intentionally, after going through that exact struggle earlier this week. Trying to plan everything out meticulously and giving myself such an overwhelm, it nearly made me kill the whole idea. The one thing that kept me going was the commitment I had made - not just to myself, but to my beautiful friends co-creating with me this week - and it is this collective power I want to bring here over the next 7 days.

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WHAT “CONNECT TO THE ARTIST WITH:IN YOU” ACTUALLY IS

This isn’t a planned curriculum - it’s a live creative happening.

This is me giving myself permission to create something without having it all figured out first.

And maybe that’s exactly what the artist within you needs to hear too.

Here is what you can expect:

No pressure. No performance. Just presence.

PERMISSION

The artist in you doesn’t need another framework.

She needs permission.

Permission to:

• Create before you’re ready

• Build before it’s perfect

• Share before you have all the answers

• Rest when you’re called to rest

• Follow what’s alive instead of what’s planned

• Change your mind mid-creation

• Make something beautiful just because

• Stop performing productivity

• Trust emergence over engineering

The biggest lie we’ve been told is that we need to have it all figured before we begin.

The artist knows differently: the truth is in the process, not in planning for it.

And today we will code this in our bodies in the most elegant, simple and beautiful way I know.

TODAY’S PRACTICE

Permission isn’t something you can get from outside (although we all love to outsource that). It’s something you remember you already have.

Today’s practice is about making something that doesn’t need to be finished, fixed, or even understood. We’re creating without destination. Be honest - when was the last time you did that?

The goal is not to make something “finished”, “perfect”, or even “good”. The goal is to notice what it feels like when you stop asking ‘good’ to be the measure.

What you need: Any paper. Any pen, pencil, marker, crayon - whatever’s within reach. This is not about having the ‘right’ supplies. You don’t need to be ‘prepared’ to do this. You just need to be willing to move your hand across paper for 5 minutes. That’s it.

THE PRACTICE (5 MINUTES)

Set a timer for 5 minutes. You’re going to put marks on paper - lines, words, shapes, scribbles - whatever wants to come through. There’s no theme. No outcome. No one will see this unless you choose to share it.

This isn’t about art. This is about remembering that creation doesn’t owe you clarity. It just is.

Start the timer. Begin making marks on the paper.

Let your hand move without your head leading. If thoughts come about what this ‘should’ be - notice them and return to the sensation of your hand moving across the page.

If you'd like background sound, here's a track from my playlist - timed almost perfectly at 5 minutes (though perfect isn't the goal here, right?):

When the timer goes off (after 5 minutes):

Stop exactly where you are - mid-line, mid-word, mid-thought. Don’t finish that stroke. Don’t complete that sentence. Let it be incomplete.

THE INTEGRATION

Now look at what’s in front of you. Not to judge it, but to notice:

• What does it feel like to create something that has no job to do?

• What does it feel like to stop before it’s ‘ready’?

• Did you feel resistance? Relief? Boredom? Aliveness?

• Did you judge what you were making while you were making it? What happened when you did?

• Did you look at the clock impatiently? Or try to guess where this might be leading?

• Or did you skip the exercise altogether to see what comes next? What part of you made you do that?

Share Space In:Between

Here’s the translation:

If you rushed — could you be used to creating for outcomes?
If you resisted starting — is there a part of you that associates creation with exposure, judgment, or obligation?
If you resisted stopping — is your worth tied to completion?
If you felt bored — when did stillness start to feel uncomfortable?
If you felt relief — is your system craving spaciousness after being on overload for a while?

Nothing here is right or wrong. And most certainly nothing needs fixing.

Integration isn’t about changing what you noticed. It’s information - and I am inviting you to be curious with it as we embark on this 7-day journey together.

TAKE THIS WITH YOU TODAY

What if your next answer, your next breakthrough, your next conversation didn’t need to be finished and perfect before you brought it into the world?

What if you could create in public the way you just created on that page - following what wants to move, following the natural rhythm of the music, stopping when the flow completes, not when the form looks ‘right’?

Permission isn’t a one-time process. It’s a daily practice.

A practice of dropping the shoulds, the coulds, the needs to, and returning instead to simpler questions:

What wants to be made?
What wants to move through me today?
Which version of me is creating this - the performer or the artist??

Keep that unfinished page somewhere you can see it this week. Let it remind you that creation is alive — and anything alive is allowed to be incomplete.

If you feel called, share a photo of your page or a few words about how this practice landed for you in the comments. Not for feedback.
Just as evidence that you showed up.

TOMORROW: DAY 2 🎇

Once we’ve given ourselves permission, the question becomes: what do we do with it?

Tomorrow, I’m inviting a very special guest to share her practice with us - a reminder that art, like life, is allowed to be playful. And genuinely, curiously, experimentally alive.

The artist within you doesn’t need more strategy. She needs to remember how to play.

See you in the morning.

Love,

Hrissy 🕯️

Day 2: Play→

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In this video, I share a different perspective on public speaking — not focused on technique, posture, or memorising scripts, but on shifting the inner narrative that often gets in the way of confidence and presence.

Over the years, I’ve spoken in front of large audiences and recorded countless videos — and what I’ve learned is this:
👉 it always feels worse in our head than it looks on the outside.

In this video, I walk you through three simple but powerful shifts that help you:

• feel more connected to your audience (even through a camera)
• quiet the inner critic before and after you speak
• trust that you already know what you’re here to say
• let go of perfection and speak from authenticity instead

This is for you if:
– speaking on camera makes you overthink
– you worry about saying the “wrong” thing
– you feel pressure to sound polished or impressive
– you want to speak from the heart, not from a script

And I humbly offer you my top 3 reminders I use religiously before any recording:

1. I don’t need to prove anything.

2. I don’t need to be perfect.

3. People aren’t looking for polish — they’re looking for my truth.

As always, if this resonates, I’d love to hear from you 🤍

✨ A special invitation:
On December 29th, I’m opening a 7-day free Co-Creation Circle — a daily space with activations, reflections, and creative practices led by women who have learned to channel their art into their business.
Make sure to subscribe to receive the invitation - I honestly could not think of a better way to celebrate the end of this transformative year with you!🤍🎁

With lots of love,

Hrissy

December is the season of magic, cold air, mince pies and mellow tunes. Yet despite all its sparkles and festivities, lately it has started to feel much more like a fleeting melody to me, a gentle pause, a much needed respite. A breath in. And a perfect excuse to cancel all my plans and stay at home, cocooned under the blankets. But it wasn’t always like that, of course.

Whenever I think of my earliest Christmas memories, I am taken back to childhood. I’m fortunate to still celebrate Christmas in the same family home I grew up in. But even that comes with its own bittersweet nostalgia - the quiet realisation that this too will change - one day.

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This year, though, I’ve decided I’m not wasting any more time or energy suppressing what is coming up, even if it may not always be comfortable, cosy or festive. I’m not going to even try to chase the wintery blues away, nor fight the loneliness that I know so many of us feel right now, even when we are surrounded by other people.

Instead, I have decided to allow myself to see the beauty, power and magic in whatever comes up. I must admit these days I even take secret pleasure in the melancholy of the season. It’s as if it’s encouraging me to be more of who I am - tired, sleepy, hibernating under the duvet on those dark grey mornings - and never having to make excuse for it again.

I am not a Grinch, I promise, yet even I am surprised as I spill these words on the page. It is not that I dislike the festivities, I just finally feel comfortable taking off all the pressure of how things “should be” in December. So I’ve decided that I will be here this month to hold space for anyone else who needs to take a break. Starting as soon as the 1st - and not a day later.

I look outside the window for support and I am not disappointed: nature is giving me its full permission with its grey skies and rainy weather. I accept them with gratitude and relief, secretly hoping that my lack of resistance his year will help me get on the other side quicker, or more gracefully at least.

As I say this, I start thinking of the tree buds already forming under the bare branches and the seeds buried deep in the dormant soil. And I feel an urge to ask you, and by extension - myself, not to push next year’s dreams to grow before their time.

We have developed a funny habit of rushing our dreams too quickly at New Year’s Eve, pressured by a productivity obsessed culture of resolutions and instant transformations. But what if, this year, you join me in choosing to wait a little longer. At least until Imbolc, the Lunar New Year or maybe even the spring equinox?

If I have learned one thing this year, it’s to let ideas breathe, marinate, and form fully, before I rush to share them with the world. It makes them that much more potent.

I find something very soothing in thinking about desires in this way: try to tell the carrot to grow faster because everyone is waiting. Pick the grapes too quickly, and the sourness will disappoint.

This, for me, is the heart of Divine Timing: the quiet time under the soil is growth. Taking time off to rest is growth. Following your natural rhythms is growth. You may have your perfectly planned schedule, but there is a far greater one out there for you. And December asks us to trust it. And lean into that trust even when everything looks perfectly still on the surface.

By doing so we gain a secret super power - steady enough to carry us through the darkest months, cloudy days and birdless skies. Because we know, without question, that spring will return. We never doubt this - we just know. And that same trust can guide us to the other side of any metaphorical winter.

Whatever you desire, trust that it is coming - just as surely as you trust that spring will not be late.

So join me this December in accepting a different kind of challenge - step away from the pressure to set goals or resolutions simply because the year is ending. Resist a little longer. Trust your inner timing - you will know when it’s right.

Instead of rushing ahead into next year, enjoy the fruits of this year’s harvest and celebrate what is here, now.

And I’ll be here, quietly cheering you on - from underneath my cosy December duvet.

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Share Space In:Between

It’s rarely the neatly scheduled moments that change us — it’s the unexpected sparks, the quiet inner nudges, the impulse that arrives out of nowhere and asks to be followed. Those are the moments that open the next chapter.

At the start of this week, I was certain I’d be writing about my activation ritual.
Instead, it came through as a video — unplanned, honest, and fully alive.
And I knew instantly that this is the form it wanted to take.

It reminded me of something essential:

Your next step doesn’t come from logic.
It comes from energy.
From what feels alive - right now.

I thought I would share this last week, right on launch day — but the idea wasn’t ready. So I let it breathe.

I thought I wasn’t someone who could follow a weekly rhythm — yet sharing these pulses of the week here feels exactly right.

And no, I won’t punish myself if the rhythm shifts. I trust that if I follow my intuition instead of a schedule, that’s alignment — not failure.

Instead I choose to celebrate every moment I show up truthfully —honestly and unapologetically.

Today’s video is one of those moments.

🌿 What’s inside this activation

1. A body-led grounding

A gentle drop from mind to body — how to release unhelpful narratives, reconnect with your baseline energy, and bring yourself back to the present moment - with no attachment to outcomes and timings.

2. A shift in awareness

This is not a meditation, nor a strict framework to apply rigidly. Instead I offer you a subtle softening ritual where you stop thinking your way into the day and begin feeling it instead.

3. An activation of your next-level identity

A moment to connect with the version of you who already knows the path — the one who leads, creates, speaks, and decides from clarity rather than urgency. And allow it to express fully.

🌅 Why daily activation matters

People get surprised when they find that this simple exercise has led to some of the most profound shifts in my work - which in turn scaled my results and capacity exponentially. Here is why:

Every morning, before anything has happened, your energy is neutral.
But within minutes, it gets pulled into emails, notifications, thoughts, expectations, old patterns.

A daily activation interrupts that autopilot.

It anchors you in:

• presence

• clarity

• creativity

• confidence

• direction

This is not about discipline or perfection, or “never missing a day” - that is just another construct of the mind and I advise you to steer clear of it. It’s about remembering who you are — before the world tells you who to be.

Just like anything else, this works with gradual accumulation - I’d rather you did five minutes every day than one hour once a week.

✨ Let this practice meet you where you are

This activation wasn’t “crafted” or “figured out”. It came through in one breath — as if it had been waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. And I immediately knew what to do next - there was no complicated strategy or overthinking.

This is what I want you to experiment with freely - find your own rhythm, build your own ritual and if it looks different from mine - that is perfect.

Once it feels like the most enjoyable part of the day, instead of another to-do item on your list - bingo! You’ve got it perfectly aligned!

Enjoy the process - and have fun with it!

With love,
Hrissy

If you’re tired of the hustle narrative, this is for you - find time and space for all that you love and bring back joy and creativity to your work and business.

What you can find here:

• A space for women who want to build with intuition, creativity, and presence.

• No productivity hacks — but a place for deeper reflection and aligned action.

• A place where we create from truth, authenticity, and emotional intelligence.

• Conversations about identity, spirituality, purpose, and conscious leadership.

• A community for women who want to express fully - and freely.

Subscribe now to join!

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Once upon a time a girl had a dream. A concept, an idea, that had been brewing in her for the longest time until she finally mustered the courage and set out on a long journey. She did not know where to, but she knew that when her heart was calling, she had to follow its cry.

She was a writer as soon as she could pick up the pen - she’d spend hours absorbed in her imagination, weaving the most beautiful stories as if the tip of her pen was the tip of a magic wand. She had a super power - to tell stories that went straight into her reader’s heart. And by the time they had finished reading, a golden seed had been planted - and our reader’s life was transformed for good. Until one day, she lost the magic…

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I know what you might be thinking: here comes another superhero story - the hero experiences a challenge, loses his magic power and sets out on a long voyage outwitting witches, slaying dragons and earning some gold along the way. If he is lucky, he may even marry a princess and become King.

But this is a different kind of story. One where not all the super heroes are men. One where the long voyage doesn’t lead to a King’s palace, but to a place we call home. Where instead of fighting dragons, our heroine enjoys the scenery of the Enchanted Forest. She’s not in a rush to get to any castle, but instead she may even stop for a picnic. There are no big bad wolfs hiding behind the bushes and the witches turn out to be fairy godmothers that help her - just because she dared to ask for help. And the gold? Well, it was never to be found at the end of the rainbow, for it was always within - in a very well hidden place, of course.

By now you will have realised that the little girl was me, the journey through the Foreast - my own homecoming, and the gold… well, I may keep that one a secret a little longer.

Yet, I don’t think my story is unique. In fact I see it everywhere around me: We all claim to know life’s all about the journey, and not the destination, yet so often we get caught up buying snake oil potion: believing that there is only one right path ahead, which when found (with the help of a magical elixir of course) will lead us to eternal happiness.

That’s why I decided it was time to change that narrative. And so I set out on a mission to collect and share different kinds of stories: ones where there is no pressure to find a single right path, to choose right now among the options that unfold for us or to constantly push for more. One, where stillness is welcome, as it gives us a chance to ask much better questions - and instead of chasing the when’s and how’s, we choose to contemplate on the what’s and why’s of this beautiful spiral we call life. I say spiral, because self discovery is not a process that magically runs from start to finish, but instead it winds upwards and upwards, which every single curve representing the acceleration and slow down before and after each big leap.

Every woman I met as I set out on this journey, shared with me her story of profound transformation, but not once did the idea of a final stage of completion come up. Instead, I started to see, that there was a different way of being: one where we gracefully accept the cyclicality of transformation. So instead of seeking that missing piece of the jigsaw to complete us, we start to find completeness with:in us.

Completeness is not a feeling or a an exact place to get to, but rather it is space itself. And it often found in the most wondrous ways: the joy of being present right here, right now, the deep connection with your heart that makes it skip a beat, the proud moment of showing your truest, honest, maskless face in front of the world… and not expecting anything in return. It’s that unmistakable jubilance of knowing that you are Enough, right as you are, and no one can take this away from you.

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I call this state of being the Space In:Between - my whole life I was carrying it in me, but I used to think it’s something I should walk towards, instead of gently sinking into it. It started the moment I spelt my first written word with my crayons and wrote that first essay that made my heart skip a beat. Exactly as this one does right now. Because I know there is some gold hidden in here - and that’s a powerful knowing.

That inner knowing has revealed to me that my purpose in this world is to share these golden nuggets with you - to create a community where we give each other the space to create from the heart, to find the beauty in our work and to express it freely, as the highest form of art that it truly is. A magical space of unlimited potentiality, where we recognise business as poetry, work as art, and energy as the guiding light that shapes our strategy and nurtures us to growth, spiral after spiral.

If you feel drawn into my world, trust that it is for a reason - my intention has been set clear: that everyone who joins finds the support, guidance and inspiration that they need to navigate the in:between-ness of the world around us. And even more importantly, bring back joy and ease to their work, life and business. Bit by bit, day by day, we stay connected and expand together - like the drops that form an ocean and a wave.

I am writing this on a plane and we’re descending now. I trust in life’s timings and that this is a true sign it’s time for a pause. This came suddenly like a November downpour, but I believe that by now, you too, have found a nugget or of gold in your pocket.

To me travelling is the summary of Space In:Between - it’s not about the start or the finish, but about all that unfolds when we allow ourselves to change our perspective. I firmly believe that we’re at our truest when we are on the road. And I am so glad you’re joining me on this journey.

Welcome home.

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