At the top of this page under the title, we have the words “Live the life you want to, not the life you think you should”. It’s a sentiment we try to embody, and one that seems to resonate with lots of people. When some fellow and favourite writers started asking if we accepted guest posts, we initially weren’t sure how to approach it. We wanted to feature their writing, but how best to do it? We found our answer in the strapline. So here begins the first of our guest post series where talented writers respond to our mantra: “Live the life you want to, not the life you think you should”. We hope you enjoy it. Read more
“Where’s home for you now?” said Olly as we strolled along the South Bank, catching up on almost 20 month’s absence on a path we’ve walked countless times before.
It’s one of my favourite places in London, the walk from London Bridge to Waterloo along the river, past Borough Market, St.Paul’s, the Tate, the theatres and with Big Ben glowing in the distance.
When I was at university, riding the bus across the river at night filled me with awe at the magnificence of the city and the millions of lives that breathed within it. I was one of those lives. I called the city home for ten years and it still holds a house in my name and is the city I know the best. It’s where I chose to step out alone and build my own life. I love it, but would I call it home? Read more
When I first heard about Per, he sounded like an archetypal compulsive liar, full of the tallest of tales that would put to shame Frank Abagnale Jr. In a town like Ubud, you have to have your bullshit detector on.
Then I met him, and the doubts were gone. This man, the youngest of ten from Tibetan and Indonesian descent, has gone from being entrepreneur of the year in the Netherlands to a sought-after healer in Indonesia, via a winding route of meetings with world leaders and time in psychic schools. He’s involved in a movement called Deep Democracy and his mission is to bring peace to South-East Asia, most significantly Tibet. He’s a man brimming with compassion rather than lies. Read more
I woke up that morning, fed up and tired with this journey. The rats had returned to the ceiling, causing another disrupted night’s sleep while they played gymnastics above our heads, the thin plaster amplifying their patter to the sound of elephants’ hooves. Tonight we’d have to re-plug in the sonic repeller, pushing aside any worries about its effects on our consciousness. Sleep was more important.
Without sleep, everything feels heavier. A glorious day turns bleak and infuriation gives rise to the unreasonable. “Maybe we need to find another house, or maybe it would be easier to just go home earlier?” “Let’s look into it.” Read more
You may be starting to wonder if I’m going to come across something I don’t enjoy in this series – well here’s the first one.
It started badly with a gaze that lasted too long. You know the type. You say your hellos and then they proceed to look deep into your eyes, nodding their head slightly, perhaps with a little ‘hmmmm’, as if to acknowledge some inscrutable truth that’s been passed between you. I’m all up for eye contact, but the lingering’s a step too far. Read more
“Is this the one where a ghost might touch your bum?” said Steve.
“Not quite, but yes it is the one you’re thinking of.” I’d been warned that I might feel spirits working on my insides during the session. This was a good thing as far I was concerned – I wanted proof.
The session in question was an energy healing using a crystal bed from John of God — a medium and psychic surgeon from Brazil. It was the first I’d heard of him but it turns out he’s quite the spiritual superstar and widely acclaimed as the world’s greatest living healer. Read more
“Oh god, what have I got myself into?”
“I thought it was a meditation.”
“So did I, but I just watched a video about it on YouTube and they said something about a sexy dance and shouting.”
“You said you wanted to come out of your shell.” Read more
“We are delighted to be invited here today,” says a small Indian woman who reminds me of the witch in Brave. She’s mischievous, and even though her eyes are closed, I can sense the twinkle behind her lids.
This woman doesn’t exist in physical form. The voice is coming from an American lady, sitting cross legged before me, eyes shut with a faint smile across her lips. Read more
One day you see a photo on Facebook that brings back pangs of childhood memories that will never be relived because the two people you wish for most aren’t there. But this time, instead of crying, you wish you were there, because the memory lives on without the faces you miss, and continues in the faces that abide. Read more
“I don’t think I’ll go tomorrow. I’m not sure I can bear it. It sounds like exactly the sort of thing that’ll be full of people who annoy me.”
“Why do you want to go at all?”
The workshop is question was “Energy 101 Read more