All Togetherly Different Blog

OVERWHELM

Fri, 02 Oct 2026 12:33:24 GMT

Most of us experience some degree of overwhelm, often frequently. Too much to do, too little time, too little support, inadequate resources, insufficient peace and quiet, and barely ever an empty stillness.

How best to alter this?

First is to recognise the patterns. Overwhelm has a strong emotional content. There's that convergence of sensory overload, turbulent thinking and emotional mayhem that has you feeling powerless. At sea without a paddle. Unable to take control. Uncertain of what you'd be controlling.

That powerlessness, that incapability, where time (as you experience it) squeezes, crushes, overwhelms your ability to act clearly, begins perhaps to feel inescapable.

The more you remonstrate, the tighter you make your own binding.

Emotionally, that sense of being constrained, of being over-loaded and inadequate, can catapult you into a mighty stack of historic layers.

Often, the first response is in child mode. You lash out. You violently blame another. The violence, of course, an attempt to break free of the bindings. Or to break the bindings. Or to break the irrational, emotionally imagined, bind er.

You might become flooded with anger. Even though Rational You knows how irrational the self-judgement, you are hard on yourself: inadequate, apparently powerless, a failure. Or frustration - with self - floods your emotional being. "Here I am, again", you inwardly complain, thus adding to the initial overwhelm.

It's all so unbearable that you limit the experience as best you can. You block out the signals within you. You shut down your sensory input. You take a break, maybe look away. And then you put on a different face. Perhaps you do what works well in lots of adult situations: you pretend.

You pretend that you are not overwhelmed. Pretend that you are not angry. Pretend that you have a handle on life. Pretend that you are calmer and capable of serenity, able to rationalise or to take control.

And when you do this, you are lying to yourself and presuming you can deceive others. Under these circumstances, all your many parts - mind, body, emotions, spirit/essence/the part of you unlimited by ego, your feeling and sensing self - are intentionally out of alignment with each other. There is no flow. All the life force drawn in on a breath is unable to flow freely without impediment.

You have become thoroughly weakened. By your own responses. And added to the overwhelm.

These cycles of overwhelm, exhaustion, inadequacy, of objection, rage and outrage, of feeling terrible, trapped, powerless, of wanting to turn away, curl up, strike out, distract yourself and then pretend some more, these cycles need interrupting.

Start with any of them. Interruption might come through

life events
other people
a change in circumstance offering a different starting place

Or, you might just be so pissed off with how you are living, you look for new ways.

Easiest of all, when overwhelmed you simply slow down.

This might seem counter-intuative. Overwhelm tends to create haste. But if you are to take the energy out of the emotional rollercoaster, you have to disconnect from the charge of emotional history. In other words, to unplug from that frequently familiar loop of thoughts intensifying your emotions, emotions generating more runaway thinking, or a pressing need for greater control.

HOW

Begin with one in-breath and notice the next out-breath.

You'll automatically breathe in again.

Then, as you exhale, give away.

Invite any amount of overwhelm to fall away from you as you breathe out.

Do this again, and again. Slow down your breathing. Just a little. Make your out-breath feel equal in length as your in-breath.

If possible, breathe in, and out, through your nose.

As you exhale, see yourself as emptying.

You're making space to receive, which of course you're doing on the in-breath.

Continue emptying on the exhalation, and drawing in on each inhalation.

Don't hold on. Breathe in, receive , and breathing out, give away , shed.

Keep this going - your slightly lengthened in - and out-breath - until you begin to have a sense of deepening within yourself. Of dropping down. Perhaps of broadening out.

You'll begin to receive more deeply. Don't hold on, keep on the rhythm, giving away as you breathe out, taking in as you quite naturally breathe in.

Soon, the rhythm of this exchange over-rides your awareness of duality, of in and out, of inhalation and exhalation. This rhythm is calming.

If you begin to think, give away each thought as you exhale. And receive again as you inhale.

You might start to feel heavy. You may feel that you are dropping down, the rhythm taking you deeper within yourself.

Go with this. Don't look for it. If it happens, give away thought (on the out-breath) and allow for the possibility of feeling more of your physical self. Perhaps too your senses, your sensory awareness of how your body is informed, or how your body informs you.

You will be, quite naturally, broadening out. Dropping deeper, finding a wider foundation for all those experiences that constituted the overwhelm. Those experiences have spread outwards a little, they're less personal, that receiving on the in-breath has made you more porous, better at taking in all that you need. You're getting to be better funded.

Switch back to normal breathing whenever you like. But continue from time to time giving away on the out-breath, so that in the emptying out you're making space to receive, drawing in vitality, as you inhale. Like this, you'll be better resourced,

You don't have to follow a rigid practice. Slow down and repeat this whenever you like. The occasional feeling of gratitude for the gift of life, and for our togetherliness, can also quieten and broaden your sense of self.

A Lively Awareness - Podcast

Thu, 03 Sep 2026 08:50:06 GMT

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This & That : Sea Anemones

Tue, 01 Sep 2026 14:50:59 GMT

What happens when what feels true to us meets the structures, expectations and pressures of working life? This & That explores how we might stay connected to what we value without needing the world around us to change first - with a little unexpected help from the sea anemone.

Some context

Time on yoga retreat with Judith and a group of 15-25 people over three to five days, left everyone feeling rounded out, clear on and aligned with our values and committed to contributing to collective good in our daily lives. However, upon returning home, those of us who work with large organisations or in defined professional fields experienced a challenge on how to live this way in our working day. We noticed that the structures, hierarchies and expectations in our work organisations and professional practice didn’t encourage us to bring our whole selves to our work. We had to fit into a different, narrower shape, sometimes abandoning our values at the office door until home-time. Yet we recognise that those very organisations and professions we work within have a key role in transforming themselves to enable collective good. We felt we wanted to bring the rich experiences from our time on retreat to our workplace, so that we, our colleagues and our organisations could benefit. Judith invited a group of us working in academia, healthcare, business and accountancy to meet to discuss the dissonance we felt and to be curious about ways we could bring our whole selves and all that we truly value to our workplace and professions.

This and That

We started referring to the difference we felt as “This” and “That”. “This” we felt refers to what feels true in one’s own body, taking in information beyond thought and knowledge, allowing tenderness, care and kindness to arise spontaneously, being light-hearted, open to, and nourished by, not knowing, by what we don’t know but feel. Allowing something to arise and flow through us, without putting our name on it. “That” refers to the structures, frameworks, rules and other, mainly man-made, laws we work within. Of course, many of those structures were designed for good reason to safeguard and protect, or to allow consistency and quality. Yet organisational and professional expectations are often reduced to specific and individual measures of success, often related to short-term economic gain. This can limit us living our true selves, our values, accessing and expressing the intelligence of our bodies and from that creating long-term collective good. Rather than living a binary “This” (on retreat) or “That”(at work), we started to ask ourselves how to live “This” whilst being part of “That”.

Learning from the Sea Anemone

Judith, having observed sea anemones at close quarters, suggested we be inspired by them. Sea anemones open when there is nourishment available at high tide - when we feel able to stay true to our feelings and fully express ourselves. We could relate to being this way with our friends and family, or perhaps with a small number of colleagues, and wondered how could we be this way at work? The sea anemones close into what must be a velvety softness, when the tide recedes and there is no external nourishment. We started imagining closing as a way of staying true to ourselves, not denying our body intelligence if we were not able to express it in our workplace or if it fell on deaf ears.

Accounting

Some of those who met were practicing accountants where time equals money, targets must be met and external audit and scrutiny are the norm. Sometimes the professional expectations demand long sedentary hours in front of a screen, short breaks and lack of care for our bodies. Our wellbeing becomes negatively impacted. This may be the same across other professions in the monoculture where economic activity is the measure used in almost all sectors to show success. What would it be like if success was related to health or happiness at work? How could we be sea anemones in the workplace?

One of our accountants worked on a high value building redevelopment project in London.

“For some years I worked on a large project, where the pressures of getting it ‘right’, the unending focus on costs and time often felt overwhelming. Experimenting with the possibility of opening and closing using the anemone as a model of Nature’s intelligence, and doing this with a few of us, felt supportive and full of camaraderie in trying this out together.

In experimenting like this, I felt opened up to my own naivety of previously resolutely remaining open where there was no possible nourishment on offer, searching for crumbs of tenderness and kindness where these were in short supply with the stresses of the moment, and questioning why I always felt battered and beleaguered(!). By experimenting, I started to trust my body’s sense of when to unfurl and when to withdraw in. In those moments, I felt less knocked off-kilter within and a small but growing steadiness in the face of situations that felt full of pressure.

Another brilliant consequence of sharing with others in our community about living “This” whilst being a part of “That” was that our sharing highlighted my fears, expectations, hierarchy and previously-fixed ideas of how things should be, then helped me dismantle them. This then allowed me to really open up with colleagues and co-workers. I have felt moved again and again by the depth of connection and relationship I feel with other colleagues, in often quite staid workplaces, and the human connections that have formed unexpectedly from what had otherwise felt limited by the environment and my own expectation. I have at times been blown away by what’s unfolded, and am grateful for the chance to experiment, and the possibilities that have opened out from this. Several years later, the team that formed working on this large building project, we’re all still in touch, and a warmth and care feels to move easily between us all still.”

Education

Some of those who met work in academia, where quality standards are understandably key and career progression is individualised. Again, many measures of success focus on the economic activity of our students after graduation. Learning for earning is a well-used term in universities today, when what really sustains our teaching, our student support, our research and innovation activity is our passion for our subject area.

One of our academics and has been teaching and researching in a renowned UK university for more than 20 years, including taking care of the welfare of postgraduate students for over a decade.

“Starting my job at the university I had an imagined model of what success is in academia, aspiring to be a leader in my field, driven to achieve impeccable lectures and tutorials, aiming at being responsive and supportive of our students. Nothing wrong with that however, increasingly, I was questioning if my intent was really aligned with my true feelings about being a teacher, a researcher and a carer. Do I really want to be in service to the students? Or do I want to shine in front of them and get a “high” from it? Do I really want to contribute to a greater knowledge in my research area, or am I only interested in getting recognition and feeling superior? Eventually, my body spoke and two years ago I had to take a medical leave of several months, unable to work anymore. I had been “playing the game”, but a game that didn’t include care for my body, because of placing high demands on myself and because of the gap between “This” and “That” so present –but repressed– in my day-to-day life.

In the Sea Anemones meetings I found a space where I could share what I felt of “This” in the workplace, something I had so far separated from my working life. Little by little, the separation is disappearing. I can be fearful of revealing too much of what I file as “not core business”, but I have found myself writing to my colleagues wildly and beautifully about our subject area. Sometimes I can feel “That” creeping in, as I start playing the game again, rather than being in service to what I find beautiful and which moves me deeply in my work. Now, thanks to all that we have engaged in meeting to discuss “This” and “That”, my self-judgement is easing and I do not have a sense that I have failed or that “I’ve lost it” like I used to. There are many little things which help me to reset, for example noticing the flow of the tides on the river Thames or the beauty of a tree I pass on my cycling route to work, or even something as simple as looking at the almost child-like drawings of animals on the ATD front page makes me remember who I really am.”

Business leadership

Some of us work with global businesses where the dominance of self-interest and the ignorance of - or numbing to - the impact of our business decisions, is rife.

“I remember the repeated experience of coming off a retreat and going back to work and feeling something painfully constricted in me and defaulting to a hardened version of myself. I’d left a big global consultancy for a boutique consultancy, eventually not being able to bear what felt like a relentless competitiveness and focus on chargeable hours. For most of my early career I numbed to my discomfort, believing this was ‘normal’, and to be pushed through. Believing this is what it took to be successful, to have a good job, to prosper in the world, to have status. I denied what I felt because it felt too painful.

Being part of This & That helped calm something in me. I still work in big, for-profit organisations, on occasions I still numb to the true costs of the self-interested profit motive, though less and less, and at times I harden and go judgmental and superior. At times I feel hopeless. This & That, however, has helped me increasingly to interrupt these patterns. Helping me be to honest with myself.

I’m aware of my choice to be present to the reality of ‘what is’. In accepting that, I’m able to start from a different place. Working with people in different organisations, I feel more present to who they are, to what they are feeling, and what they value. I listen in ways I never used to, allowing space for, and valuing, ‘not knowing’.

This & That has also helped me loosen my fear of ‘lack’. As a small consultancy it’s easy to feel vulnerable to not getting enough business to survive, and the time running the business, the weight of that responsibility could feel overwhelming. Loosening that fear, the fear of failing to provide for my family, failing to uphold the lifestyle I’ve worked hard for, losing my markers of ‘success’, failing… period, has been so fundamental for me. I’ve learned to feel, truly, I’m not alone, that my compulsion only to rely on myself is deeply misplaced, that I am part of something so much bigger – the flow of life, everything and everyone else. This & That has helped me feel my trust in that because I can feel it. And I feel how it allows me a fundamentally different starting point – to be in service of something that feels deeply worthwhile, to care. That’s more than just me.

Inviting a colleague of mine to a recent All Togetherly Different event, they remarked that they felt a level of openness and honesty amongst us that they had never experienced before. An experience they said they really treasure. I feel the same. And every opportunity I have to experience it feels a new experience, fresh and enlivening.”

Business leadership

Some of us work with global businesses where the dominance of self-interest and the ignorance of - or numbing to - the impact of our business decisions, is rife.

“For thirty five years working in an investment bank I often felt a fish out of water, in part fuelled by ideas of being ‘different’ and ‘better than’ others, but mostly feeling that what I cherish and what makes my heart sing, was not a match for my workplace environment, the company’s objectives or the ways they went about achieving them.

Practicing the lessons of the sea anemone, in my later years working in banking, was like using a favourite tool and companion that gave me a broader perspective of the circumstances I found myself in and what I was experiencing. It always left me feeling lighter, able to respond from a different starting point, not charged with emotional reactivity, and with space to breathe, to move and be moved.

The analogy of the sea anemone - opening out its tentacles to draw in nourishment from the sea when the tide comes in, and wrapping its tentacles around its nourished self when the sea is out - helped to loosen how I had been cocooning myself with what and how I wanted the world around me to be. Instead, I was able to acknowledge, see and face how things actually were, especially when circumstances were tough and definitely not nourishing. I was able to bring honesty about my part in that too - instead of deluding myself out of fear and insecurity - I was able to bring clarity about my part with a relief that feels liberating.

Feeling “this” and “that” as a lesson from nature - as a natural part of life and living - disarmed my judgement, objection and upset at finding myself at times in what felt like working with a bucket of snakes and self-interest in a place without communal care.

One of the teachings from Judith which has stayed with me was about transforming my perspective. Instead of me feeling ‘strange’ and uncertain to live “This” in the corporate profit-driven world, I was able to consider that perhaps the corporate world has it all upside down and I was having a perfectly natural response to something that felt not quite right.

The Beadlet Anemone (actinia equina) is common in tidal zones around the UK coast. The base of its body acts as a sucker, securing it to rocks. When the tide goes out, it closes its short tentacles, sealing the mouth to avoid dehydration, and looking when exposed to air like a blob of jelly. Beadlet anemones feed when the waters return. They are impressively adapted to tolerate hot, dry conditions when the water recedes.

Picture by Judith Seelig

These anemones feed by stinging passing prey, which includes crab, shrimp and small fish. They are aggressively territorial, fighting off possible incursion from other anemones. Our photograph shows them clustered on the underside of a rock, which obviously offers maximum protection from sunlight. We only use the protective aspect of the anemone sealing itself in a non-nutritious environment, and opening up when the waters return, as a lesson from Nature. We note they are often to be found in clusters on prime sites. We are not suggesting any of us will gain from following their example in stinging fellow anemones and causing them to fall off in defence of an individual’s anchorage.

A Lively Awareness - Podcast

Wed, 05 Aug 2026 11:10:10 GMT

More Fully Aware - Judith Seelig in Conversation with Charles Wookey

Judith Seelig and Charles Wookey explore what it means to be more fully aware - an enhanced liveliness - from our search for meaning to the power of music and silence, to listening deeply, letting go of familar stories and becoming more open to one another. A warm, thoughtful, and playful conversation about human connection, flourishing and the possibilities that appear when we dare to experience things differently.

Judith Seelig has spent many years exploring what helps people feel more alive, connected, and open to possiblity. Her distinctive work brings together deep listening, feeling, sound, silence, humour, and an often playful willingness to disturb the familiar. Her wisdom and practise sit at the heart of All Togetherly Different.

Charles Wookey is a co-founder and former CEO of A Blueprint for Better Business, a charity that challenges the idea that business is soley about profit and explores how organisations can help people, society, and the planet to flourish. His work brings together questions of purpose, human motivation, meaning, and the common good.

HOW IT WAS FOR US

Thu, 05 Feb 2026 13:53:08 GMT

By Loads of Us

Some of those who've long been part of the foundation community attended our London event in January. Here's what it meant to them. Some are writing from a very personal place, including degrees of nervousness, whilst others share their experience of a remarkable togetherliness, and how it left them feeling.

This gathering to me felt like a homecoming. I felt pride bringing a friend I value to us. Our tribe in our time. This felt special, and the gathering brought up emotions for me.

I was really taken by a feeling of wholeness and oneness between us all when we sat together.

There was a freshness that newcomers clearly enjoyed.

I am full of gratitude for our time together, thrilled and enriched. I left feeling uplifted and elated, just as I sometimes am on leaving a concert.

This was a totally brilliant launch out into the unknown.

I feel humbled, grateful and privileged. There’s a new “yes” in me. “Yes” to taking responsibility for my part, for my personal work in this. Discerning what I want to grow, and what I want to discard. I was anxious at the start of the meeting but this faded as our time together progressed. I came to realise I just had to be myself, not presenting anything. I felt washed through with love.

I loved the presence of newcomers. Sharing in what we are so privileged to have, and seeing their delight and excitement at what is on offer, I’m so looking forward to what might happen next. I loved the invitation to move and how our feet made contact in unison with the very nice wooden floor. I felt warm-hearted in my body. When I left the venue, lots of lovely little things happened that felt like an open connection to something other than myself - even the drunk on the plane.

I felt very peaceful long after our time together. I found myself feeling that those who joined us for the first time felt with us, and not separate. I never felt an 'Us' and ‘them’. The entire time we were together felt simply natural and flowing. And my heart warmed when I listened to what they shared, and their curiosity. The feeling of Love present was palpable; it was expressed by many.

Being together with new people felt deeply easeful and full of tender warmth. I loved how we gathered in the centre and moved with each other. I have tingles writing this, and feel warmth and joy from experiencing it.

I was a bit anxious about this event, but as we sat in a circle, and as Judith spoke, I felt my back 'melting' and a loving and powerful invitation from my body to follow its lead, to chill and be with everyone. I felt at home with several people new to me, my body enjoying the physical presence of another.

I had a constant feeling of flow and ease. It was great to share and feel engaged with people I knew as well as those I was meeting for the first time. I felt, alive, vibrant and full of natural fun. I feel changed by our gathering. I feel settled, quietly confident, calm and heart filled, and that's how I spent the following days. Something has been moved out of the way.

It was lovely to welcome and share what we have with new people, and to feel our circle expanding.

Welcoming others and expanding our circle felt joyous. I keep thinking of a cell membrane, fluid and porous, able to grow, and in relation to the environment around.

Guided by Judith, we all made an amazing sound together. It was a gorgeous experience and afterwards I felt such a confidence and trust in that which unites us; it felt like a rippling outwards. Our dance at the end was amazing. I felt a togetherness among all of us.

As the meeting progressed I sensed the energy changing. The flow deepened as some of the new people spoke more about how they felt in response to what some of us had shared earlier. I really had a sense of us as a whole - not a them and us.

Money and Tenderness

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 12:28:48 GMT

By Judith Seelig

Most of us could greatly increase our capacity to receive. We can’t breathe out until we’ve first breathed in. If we attempt to give away, to service others, or validate our worth entirely through action, we’ll soon be spent.

When I’m working with an individual client, we begin strengthening that capacity to receive by focusing on the in-breath and all that comes with it: oxygen, life-force, potential energy. It’s neutral. There’ s no other person involved. It’s free (though granted, quality variable). And the body naturally ensures inhalation follows exhalation. We take in, we receive, and then we give away, empty. Ready to receive again.

We can choose to be more aware, to be more receptive, more thankful, and ultimately through that to feel more a part of the great flow of life: in/out, the gifting back, the receiving, circulating, growing, sharing, again receiving, and so on.

We also circulate money between us. Whatever the source (savings, investments, payment for work, for skills and for time, a pension, money gifted, inherited or won) how we relate to money affects its presence in our lives.

Imagine greeting your next payment - the new incoming energy supply - with tenderness. Hello, thank you, I really appreciate you would alter how you used those funds. You might cautiously, intelligently, endeavour to save, to hold some back for an unknown future, but to do so with tenderness would be to soften the perfectly natural fear of not enough. Less fearful, you’re more receptive. You’re better able to receive. Better able to fill up before spending, or giving away.

Being Generous

This begins with you. With being generous with yourself. With deepening the breath, slowing down, granting yourself time for absolutely nothing, even if only a handful of minutes, and fully emptying out, the better to more deeply receive. At the outset, this will be just the breath. Later, this practice will cover more aspects of being alive in human form.

How we use money

After we had paid for the venue for our first event in London (January 2026) we had sufficient funds to be able to offer two pay-£10-only bursaries for our A Deeper Connection event in March. We kick-started our ability to give away to those in need by personally gifting our time and resources at that first event. That’s everyone, including Judith and those of us who provided abundant refreshments.

As money begins to flow into our community from individuals benefitting from what we have to share, we in turn can go out to communities and to those working towards the betterment of our shared existence and environment. Money facilitates. Tenderness gives it a gentle flow. We are not striving. We are not gobbling up energy, personally or collectively, in order to achieve. We do the work - the preparations, the logistics, the co-creating - with tenderness for each other. This continuously reminds us to be tender with ourselves.

We are doing things differently in a very togetherly manner. We invite you to join us in what we already know to be a deeply rewarding experiment.

Look, no leader... or is that true?

Wed, 21 Jan 2026 15:57:41 GMT

By Judith Seelig

We can be deeply lazy from time to time. We put self-interests first, choose like-minded, similarly interested people to hang out with – the more likely they’ll agree with us - thus justifying our big- or small- world view. This confirms we’re “right”.

Kind, gentle, considerate individuals, who might experience themselves, and be experienced by others, as “sensitive” often do their best to avoid confrontation. A different view threatens or challenges comfortable “niceness”.

Someone fundamentally uncertain whether they are of use/of value, or are loveable just for who and what they are, might need to blow their own trumpet just to feel they have a place among others.

Combine a degree of inertia or laziness with the longing for certainty and anyone saying “it’s this way” will find willing followers. Until the very singular expectations of those followers are not met, when there will be objection and possibly revolt.

Our Fears

Fear of aggression or confrontation, fear of being found wanting or unlovable,

fear of, or violent objection to, feeling manipulated or deceived, rage at not being heard as you have come to expect, outrage at unexpressed misogyny (not hating women but presuming them to be secondary to men) and fear of division into factions… all these and more we have faced among the company of people who all together created Altogether Different.

Our fundamental premise, write only what you feel, not what you think, to and for everyone , takes care of avoiding any of these situations becoming a sinkhole. We avoid our collective attention being drawn into, and getting absorbed in, any one person’s self-preoccupation.

No Judgement

Critically, this happens without judgement. Share your opinion, what you think, and there’s always space for judgement, and for someone else to feel judged. Share what you feel in response to what someone else has shared – how that has affected you – and you are sharing more of yourself.

This only works if everyone is alert to anyone failing to follow those two rules. Two not entirely simply rules. ‘Not entirely’ because most of us find sharing thoughts less revealing, less intimate than sharing feelings. And therefore safer. But when everyone is honouring those two principles, there’s less threat to any perceived personal vulnerability. It might even be that being that better known, and not rejected, possibly even more warmly accompanied and enjoyed, the sense of belonging, and of community, grows the stronger.

Inspiration and the Beauty in you

A company of people needs inspiration. Literally, a shared inhalation, breathing in together what feels good and nourishing. On song. In tune with individual and collective interests.

I provide that. Not so much in what I say, though that is part of it, but how I live and what I embody. That last part sometimes expressed as sound, as frequency. I accompany each body, irrespective of how the person is living.

I’m really interested in the parts of each person I find to be beautiful. Where their desire for love, to love and be loved, to care for others, all kinds of other, and to participate in something that brings meaning and both personal and collective pleasure, rings on, regardless of circumstance. In my experience, those parts are delighted to be known, met, respectfully saluted, loved.

In this sense, I lead.

I am not, therefore, someone to follow. But I am someone who might nourish, nurture, help you to cultivate, the beauty in you. What is already there, waiting perhaps for a little more breathing space.

Sustainability

Do that in the company of others, each bringing their widely varied and ever-changing life experience, and you have something sustainable. Sustainable because it doesn’t rely upon conformity. Nor upon perpetual growth. Like the very many different-season life cycles in an ancient hedgerow, we are each rising and falling in energy, and in capacity. Living as we do, we are not strained. One of us is on the rise, strong and energetic, another needs rest, or time to contemplate.

The force of habit, of cultural ties, of learnt so-called best practise, is strong. It needs interrupting. Gently. This I do. Without expectation, but offering to each person that falls into habit, another way. Do this in the company of others, and others will be able to suggest another way. Our collective capability, our ability to do this without attitude, without judgment, is undoubtedly growing. Clarity, kindness, gentleness and care… these are all on the rise.

Light-heartedness

But because life is messy, because we are messy, we also cultivate play and humour. Sustaining light-heartedness together, especially when things go frankly tits up – that is our super-strength.

Hence, the playful, almost childlike, images on our website.

HOW WE GOT HERE

Wed, 21 Jan 2026 15:51:47 GMT

By Judith Seelig

We take a subject – anything that relates to the challenges of being human, such as honesty, fear, loyalty, overwhelm, misogyny, tenderness - and share what we feel. Not what we think. We do not offer opinions, nor make generalisations. There’s no lengthy telling of personal stories.

Instead, we share with each other this is what I am feeling - now - in response to what I have read, or heard.

We do this via email over five or ten days, and then meet in person at the end of this cycle. Geographically, we range from Cornwall to Scotland. Those that can’t make it to a meeting join via Zoom. Physically getting together from time to time is hugely valuable. It strengthens bonds made in that arena of language where we’re writing and reading in our individual worlds.

Throughout this process, Judith acts as conductor. She writes an opening email to launch the chosen topic, re-directing, guiding, re-affirming our two fundamental principles (see below), and bringing clarity and humour when the flow between us gets stuck in unhelpful, but oh so comfortingly familiar, habits.

Our two fundamental principles are:

- write only what you feel

- write to and for every one present

What are you feeling?

We do this by sharing not what we think, but what we feel. And we make a distinction between feelings and emotions. Yes, we know that those words are often used interchangeably. But for this process, emotions are all about you - what’s tumbling around inside. These are often compounded by historic experiences. They are sometimes a re-run of personal history, rather than a fresh response to what moves you in this very moment. Feelings are what you experience within you right now, in response to others and to what is external to you. This can include what you feel in your body or via your senses. Feelings relate to others.

For us, sharing feelings with each other has deepened relationships, and over time created a strong and nourishing mutual bond, despite our very many differences.

This distinction between feelings and emotions might be hard to understand until you have some experience of the process. It does require practice, and some guidance. We will be offering this to those who are interested. Sharing more of yourself, not just an opinion, is obviously more intimate, and potentially a richer, more rewarding experience. But this requires people to feel appreciated, heard, met.

Each person being careful to address absolutely everyone guards against any one individual feeling vulnerable or isolated. Since we are not offering opinion, assessment or overview, there’s no place for judgement, of ourselves or another. Yes, of course, most will at some point think along these terms, but we don’t have to express that. We might share how comparing ourselves to another has made us feel.

Acknowledging how we feel, how something another person has written or said moves us, and sharing that with everyone else, contributes towards a landscape of our uniquely individual starting points. We learn from each other. We learn more of ourselves. With no platform for judgment or comparison, there’s a growing respect for, and celebration of, difference.

This is entirely co-created: an intimacy, depth and richness that’s impossible to achieve without each person’s willingness to share, and to properly listen.

Love

There is, of course, love. We’ve found a loving, compassionate tenderness springing uninvited when anyone is undramatically truthful…not hiding, not presenting. Since life, for all of us, is messy, there is also much laughter. This is not laughing at any one of us. Rather, laughter at the absurdity of circumstance and the apparently impossibility of making changes. Time and again, we’ve found laughter to break the lock. And of course, for that shared humour (yes, we check no one is left out) to create a lovely warm sense of companionship.

We might have equal voice, equal place and value, but we don’t have equal free time. Some of us are perpetually stretched parents of young children. Others are retired. Some have time-gobbling careers; others work part-time. We have found that imagining ourselves to be players in an orchestra makes sense of these differences. No instrument is required to play without end. Some have small, but essential parts.

The greater the experience of sharing what we feel, the more we become aware of how much we affect each other. Staying open to this is only comfortable if we trust the intentions of another. For those of us who have been together for a long time, we’re quick to sense untrustworthiness. But this doesn’t require anyone to be certain of their instinct, their feelings or senses. It’s really clear when anyone has gone off course. They are not following our two fundamentals: write to and for everyone present what you are feeling.

Slowing down

Distinguishing between emotion and feeling might at first be a challenge. Slowing down, taking a few deeper, longer breaths and becoming more and more aware of physical sensations helps. Our bodies inform us, always. For many reasons, we often turn away from that information. We numb ourselves. We dial down the frequency . Yet the very willingness to feel, relaxes us. Both body and mind quieten when we practise this in any pleasantly peaceful environment. We’ll be offering the chance to practise this.

People have sat in circles for ever, the better to communicate with every one present. That isn’t always in speech. Acknowledging every one’s individuality, each unique, independent self, is often the easier in silence. None of us can know how it is to live as another. But we can share intention, interest and, possibly, a purpose. We can forever learn from each other, not simply facts or knowledge, but perspective: from here it looks like this. Or, this is what I am experiencing, this is what I feel.

When we are together and relatively still, each of us experiences something of what another is feeling. Because of this, we often use the image of a bowl ringing with the frequencies of one or several individuals. All of us affect each other. Each of us affects the whole. Our thoughts, feelings and emotions have consequence, even when we choose not to notice. Hence ‘frequency’. Or, in musical terms, the sound, the note, of each person.

Recognising this in the company of others is in itself strangely relaxing. I have consequence adds greater depth to a sense of belonging. Being considerate towards others, considering how we might affect another in ways that we may not know, softens the need to be heard or felt according to our personal agenda. Tenderness is palpable.

the catalyst

Inevitably, we go off course, or ‘out of tune’. The catalyst for change, for dissolving the fixed positions, the hardening, comes through Judith, who envisioned this process. Not wanting to lead, to take charge, or to be the person everyone quietly assumes will take care of emerging challenge or difficulty, Judith participates only when we explore a topic. Learning from each other, learning to listen to others without prejudice or fear for self, and with care and compassion… this we practise without Judith. It gets tightened, mended, re-directed in her presence.

As the process has evolved, people have participated, and left. We’ve learnt much from each of those. And we’ve got better at facilitating ease in a beginner. Those introductions have shown us how newcomers flourish. A sense of belonging can spring up with the speed of a weed.

We most certainly haven’t arrived anywhere, but we are collectively a messy yet loving proof that you can nurture pockets of intense and sustainable wellbeing at a particularly challenging time for both people and planet.