Sensitivity is not a Weakness.

February 23rd 1984. The sun in motion at 4° in the constellation of Pisces.

Water energy. That’s what I’m working with here.

Large eyes from which oceans may tumble and truths may be seen in technicolour.

Legs more like fins. A little unstable on dry land, but gracefully treading the waters below surface.

We like to swim. It’s what we’re good at. Plunging to the deepest darkest depths when others remain in shallow waters. We do shadows and light. We can’t help it. We feel both.

Emotions flood this particular Piscean like the ever-changing British weather on a daily basis. Like a cloud I can’t help but to soak up collective emotional energy. I just hope when I express it it has the same affect as the heavens rain. Providing nourishment for everything in her wake.

Astrology is an energetic language that feels quite native to me. I care not that it’s not everybody’s cup of tea, it isn’t supposed to be, but it has always spoken beautifully to me throughout my life.

As a little girl, sensitive to all around me I often felt like a fish outta water.

I know now I bob along that blurred line, swimming between the esoteric world and this one, at times more comfortable bathing in the shadows of that which we cannot see, for good reason.

It’s part of my purpose here.

All my life I felt that my sensitivity to feel another souls pain was a weakness. Now I embrace my empathic nature, knowing that I no longer need to anchor myself to another souls pain. Nor to wear another’s scars like hooks embedded in my flesh.

Instead I continue to filter what I can, to create my own currents and trust that my scales will reflect the light back to others.

Happy Birthday to my fishy friends 😂 And love to all the empaths fighting the good fight.


Just Stand Still


Ancient Isle of good fortune. And fierce winds.

Fitting that this is where I find myself. Christmas Day 2017. Small piece of volcanic rock preventing the pages of this book from fluttering hysterically.

Beating sun, whipping wind competing for my body temperature.


Fitting, but of course, no accident.

She sent for me.


And long before I could see the sequence of stepping stones; perfectly synchronized, accurately timed, never-by-chance events and incidents that led me here.

The ocean beckoned, the wind whispered. And I heard her loud and clear.

It’s only now, aware of the abrasive sand ridding me of the skin I am due to shed, that I understand why.


Breathing, cleansing, absorbing, expressing.

The salty air is laced with a taste I am blessed to be familiar with.


I’ve been here before. Not this beach nor even this island. But here.

Where demons dance, shadows reveal themselves and Little Steph, the me still bearing the weight of unresolved, undiscovered pain, begins to feel the shift.


Each chapter in your life will require an ascended version of you. So here we are.


Tentatively treading an imaginary tightrope. Though the feels feel real.

Tremors! Tension! Tears!!


But I am without trepidation. Because I know this place.


I’m familiar with the force that bought me here.


She winks at me from the ocean and dances in my hair.

And if there’s one thing she’s taught me, it’s that resistance is futile.


Surrender I must.


I thank her for the looking glasses. The prisms in which the light splits and true colours are exposed in all their glory.


Even though it often hurts, to see the truth. To have it sear straight into ones soul, eyes prised wide. Nowhere to hide.

I’m lucky enough to know what’s on the other side of the inferno.


She’s taught me that much.


So I thank her for the looking glasses in all their forms.

The people, the places. Anonymous faces. I see myself in them all.


And even when the reflections hurt, when my pain is uncovered and exposed, for the salt to wash my wounds I am grateful!


That’s the thing about darkness. Once exposed it disappears.


And I, every chakra in my being, am designed to be a vessel of light.


So I’ll stand strong on the uneven terrain and I’ll let her shake me and take me and make me the way that she will.

And I will just stand still.


Breathing, cleansing, absorbing, expressing.


The roll of the tide relentless as the beat of my heart.

A push, pull on both.


None of natures navigational signs have gone unnoticed by me. Indeed I’ve followed them faithfully since she first stirred my soul. As though they were the only thing I know to be true. Often they are.


They speak my language.


Which is an enormous comfort, in a world often foreign to me.


And so it is that I, cradled in soft sands blown in from Northern Africa and to the sounds of dancing palm leaves am able to recognise this place.


To know where I am.

And more; why I’m here.


Into the furnace we go!

Adios Amigo!

No room for ego.


It is time once again to shed the layers that no longer serve us.

To offer them to the wind!

The fears, like shackles on the mind.

The pain, like armour on the heart.


A half moon smiling in agreement, she knows.

The sacrifice is upon us.


It’s time to let. go.


So I’ll let her shake me and take me and make me the way that she will.

And I will just stand still.




Looking Glasses.png