About Judith
Judith does not lead. Nor teach. But she does bring to everyday life an ‘otherworldly’ perspective rooted in what we often file as esoteric, available only to a few. All Togetherly Different offers an opportunity to experience this unusual combination of tenderness and light-hearted wisdom, to make of it a very personal resource. There’s nothing to be seized, or owned, but not-yet-fully-lived parts are quietly met, accompanied and encouraged to break free. The satisfaction at finding oneself living more and more one’s unique individual self, regardless of circumstance, is quietly joyous.
All that Judith offers is in the context of our natural environment and of the shared resources we might intelligently hold in common with others. Practising gratitude for all that we see around us in Nature usually makes for an easier starting point when it comes to appreciating people you barely know. There’s not much in the natural world of attitude and certainly no opinion, so there’s nothing to interrupt your growing awareness of different ways of being and living. This becomes a good foundation when you move onto a similar consideration for other people strikingly different to you. And celebrating that difference.
Where there is abundant vitality in nature there is diversity, seen and unseen. Relationships are everywhere. So too change, dormancy, transformation, death, decay and renewal. Translating that into a human community does not mean literally a person’s death or decay. But it does encourage an appreciation of the cycles in an individual life, or in the life of a community, some falling away as new ones begin. This no one way, no singular state of being at any one time is fundamental to Judith’s work.
the back story
In her mid-30s, whilst a journalist, editor and travel writer, Judith experienced an extraordinary and, in the mindset of our times, inexplicable series of events that fundamentally altered her life.
She takes up the story:
“Our words health, heal and healer are rooted in the Old English word for wholeness. Thus, to ‘heal ‘(Old English haelan) is to return someone or something to a harmonious state of being. When total strangers approached me and said they knew I could heal them, even though I was outraged – I was a perfectly rational journalist – I understood.
Somehow, I had been granted a bigger picture: the story in a person’s body, what of the past was present now. And I knew the sound that might bypass thought and bring that person or place back into harmony. Moreover, my vocal range had so dramatically extended, most of those sounds I could make.
For a while, I wore both hats. Eventually I gave in. My new role plagued me, even on press trips. And there were personal benefits. I seemed to have landed the wonderful ability to live the sublime in the midst of a very ordinary lifestyle. By only doing what was asked of me, rather than seeking a role, I could limit my “seeing” to those who asked me to look. Thus, saving myself from total overwhelm.”
avoiding mumbo jumbo
As with anyone deeply skilled through years of practice, Judith’s part can look disarmingly effortless. She quickly tilts into humour. Yet there is also immense self-discipline. Partly, this explains a compelling physical stillness.
We’re aware that to use the terms healer, mystic and shaman is to risk losing credibility. Yet these words best explain Judith’s skills.
The
healer helps to return a person, place or community to wholeness, when there’s been fracture or dispersal. The
mystic translates the overview into everyday life. This is where language is inadequate. “Mystic” has its roots in the Greek for someone with sealed lips, and/or eyes, perfectly conveying the mystic’s inability to describe an experience or understanding. The overview comes from a perspective that
arrives. It is not sought. It is not limited to personal use, rather it is in service to many. That requires the person who receives, the mystic, to be very much among the many, feet down in the mud, not floating around in some pleasant, otherworldly state of little use to anyone else. The
shaman embodies the forces of Nature, mostly as disruptor. That’s disrupting patterns of behaviour no longer relevant, thus righting being out of sync with Now. Again, this is not a strategy, nor a learnt technique, but occurs because the shaman has surrendered their physical body to frequency. That’s being vibrated, moved, rung, informed as a vibrational wave form. The shaman experiences this in many different ways.
no fanfare, yet sound
You can’t play these combined roles if you yourself want to be noticed. Judith relies upon people being touched, moved, altered and feeling very much the better for it, and through that come to appreciate an all togetherly different way of living. Experience has shown that the quickest gamechanger is often through sound. That’s Judith vocalising the frequency that invites people to “fall in”, or the sound that amplifies the beautiful nature of one person, or of the collective just as it is the moment everyone has come together. Out of that, then, to invite everyone to make sound. Just as they are. All together.
who are you?
If you want to be rescued, to follow, or simply to be told what to do, you will not realise your unique, individual self. And without that, there’s little chance of experiencing the quiet self-confidence that comes from knowing yourself from deep within, and from the ground up. From the root of your being.
Instead of leading, or simply teaching, Judith offers guidance and encouragement. She especially encourages you to avoid taking yourself too seriously, and not to dramatise the difficulties and challenges that inevitably arise in all lives. The focus is on the massive boon of learning from each other, if only to understand that another’s view brings perspective you’re unlikely to have come to all by yourself. This broadens awareness, knowledge, respect and compassion, the better to practice loving and caring.
play and the personal stuff
Judith writes:
“in my view, we are sunk without play. It’s vital to our development in childhood. When we abandon it as adults, we limit our joy in small things. Play re-sets. It clears space for laughter and light-heartedness. I live this with perhaps sometimes infuriating freedom.
Here’s how my life currently looks… I am partnered, have sons and grandchildren, and as far as I can tell, am greatly loved. I live part wild, part cultivated. The wild has me lurching about in the surf of a wintry sea, walking barefoot, and swinging from the odd tree. When life’s feeling too jam-packed, I stand on my head. I am 76.”
If you want to know more of Judith’s story, or want to ask a question, contact her via
