Well fuck, isn't this a rollercoaster.

Are you feeling it? Because I am feeling it. The intensity of this time is extraordinary. So much beauty. So many awakenings happening for so many, so much transcendence, so much remembering. And then again and again and again, back into the shadow. Back into the clearing. Sitting with the fear of everything that is collapsing in this world and transmuting it, staying present, bringing in what is possible.

This July the energetics are astonishing. If you haven't already, I highly reccomend listening to Sabrina Lynn's conversation with Rick Levine for a deeper dive. 

I have wanted to write this for a long time. I have started it and stopped it more times than I can count because the truth is, it's hard to put something this big into words without it sounding like a performance. And I don't want to perform it. I want to tell you the truth. 

I spoke to God in February last year. And the path from there to here has been PROFOUND: beautiful & uncomfortable. And I believe it matters that I share it, not because my story is special, but because when we share our stories we are creating magic - we are unlocking the possibility for each other because we are all divinely connected.

Are you feeling it too? I know many of us are. You might be standing at the beginning of it. You might be right in the thick of it. 

There is a stone circle on Dartmoor that has held my spiritual awakening twice.

The first time, it was snowing - beautiful, sound dampening, crisp, untouched snow. I had followed a knowing, the way we do. A golden thread pulling through the chest that doesn't explain itself and doesn't need to. It led me deep into the wilds, through an evergreen forest, following a deer track until the trees opened into a vast clearing, and there they were. Moss and granite softened under white. A circle of stones that have stood through thousands of winters, holding their silence.

The life I carried into that circle was a life of surviving. I was a senior manager at a domestic abuse and sexual harm charity, training staff and volunteers in trauma recovery while my own trauma pressed at the walls of me. With undiagnosed ADHD I was masking so hard that I worked ten times more than anyone could see, holding underfunded programmes together through a pandemic, mothering with everything I had, crying myself to sleep. I had been so ill with pneumonia that I could not climb the stairs, and still I was pulling the laptop onto the bed breathlessly. I had my magic. I had my practices. I had so much love. But underneath all of it I was drowning. The way a woman can drown in plain sight, smiling, capable, praised for how strong she is.

I stepped into the circle and I closed my eyes.

And I knew. In my soul. In my bones. I could not do it that way any more. I needed a rhythm that was feminine and cyclical. I needed to stop living on high alert. I needed the land and the seasons and the magic I had always felt humming beneath the skin of the world.

And then I found I could not leave.

I mean this literally. My body would not carry me out of that circle, because some wise, animal part of me knew exactly what would happen if it did. I would drive home. I would open the laptop. The pattern was that strong. We hear the call and we go back, don't we. We almost always go back.

So I stood there in the snow for a long, long time, held by the stones, until the deepest voice in me said: promise. Promise you will change. Promise you will not go back.

I promised. The energy shifted and lifted like a hand releasing me. And I stepped out of the circle into a different life.

Everything changed. Not just the career but everything I had longed for in how I live. The way I connect to the earth. The way I hold my spirituality. The way I dance and live by the moon. The way I love and relate. When I look back across the distance between the woman standing in that snow and the woman writing this now, the scale of the change is almost unfathomable. It started with a promise made to stone and silence, and it has not stopped since.

The second time I stood in that circle, years later, the world looked so different.

By the winter of 2024 I had journeyed so deep and found so much along the way. So much magic, so much love, so much pleasure and aliveness. I was loved. I had beautiful children. Work I adored. Parts of myself I had fought to reclaim and was finally enjoying. By every measure I could name, I was lucky.

And yet that winter, I began to struggle. A heaviness I couldn't explain. I want to be honest about how strange that was, because by then I had done so much healing. I understood my wounds. I knew my triggers. This was not that. This felt like a weight and a numbness that wasn't quite of this earth. I was exhausted. I was poorly. I was bone-deep tired.

We went to Dartmoor, and going to Dartmoor is usually a joy for me. I skip there with a grin on my face. This time was hard. We walked to the masculine circle up on a higher moor, where my partner called in the eagles with his drum. Walking back I was so tired I lay down on the ground and thought, I don't know if I can keep moving. I genuinely didn't know. But I did. We picked our way through the woods, followed the old stone row to the circle, and when I got there I collapsed inside it.

The ground was damp. The air was cold. It was February. I didn't mind. I lay there with my face literally on the earth, spent, tears running gently down my face, too tired to even properly cry. And I quietly asked: what am I supposed to be doing? Who am I here to be? I'm lost. I'm doing all the things I think I'm supposed to, and I am so lost.

And a voice spoke to me. Soft. Resonant. Not mine. I knew in my deepest knowing that it was God. 

She told me I had to keep going. That I had to 'build it'. And then the words became images, pouring into my head. Land we are connected to, where we grow our own food. Women who, instead of being guarded with one another, were genuine and intimate and open, holding each other up. Families looking after each other's children. Food and music shared. The earth tended, and tended, and tended. Higher levels of consciousness, but not transcendent all of the time. Embodied.

And I could see, so clearly, the difference between the guarded woman, the one who has had to become guarded because of what life has handed her, and the knowing that she is something else entirely. Something far more magical. Far more powerful. Because she does not have to play that game in those old systems any more. In the vision, the old paradigm was crumbling. And she was free - and in being free was creating the world that we need. 

She said: build it, and they will come.

I need to pause here and tell you something about what came next, because it is not what you might expect.

You might think that hearing the voice of God would make everything clear. That it would feel like arrival. It didn't. It took me the best part of eighteen months to even let myself use the word God without flinching!

Because I carry the witch wound. I carry wounds from this lifetime and lifetimes past. And I carry something that feels like it has always been true in me, this deep, bone-level distrust of organised religion. The word God arrived in me like a stranger knocking at the door of a house that had been broken into before.

Here is what I feel in my bones, I would not even call it a belief: it sits deeper than belief. We are spirit living a human experience. And when as humans we try to interpret that spirit, we build structures, because building structures is what humans do. The structures are human sized. The transmission is not. Something is always lost in the housing of it. And then the housing hardens. Spirituality tenders into doctrine. Doctrine tenders into systems of control. And we can look across history and see exactly whose backs those systems were built upon. The vulnerable. Women. The whole vast web of the marginalised. Exploited. Controlled. 

So when God spoke to me, I did not fall into simple faith. I began unpicking: What is mine. What is wound. What is inheritance. What is true. And I have come to feel that this is exactly how it is meant to be. The consciousness is the devotion.

And I had this deep felt sense that the message was not only for me.

Goodness, I have had to unpack that. The human translation of spirituality so often becomes about ego, about power, about one person's specialness, and I have watched religion and doctrine do so much damage through exactly this. It really has taken me these eighteen months to do the work of separating what was given to me from the fear of making it about me. Because it isn't about me. 

What happened in that circle could happen to any of us. It is happening to so many of us. I simply carry a particular weave of knowledge and tools, over twenty years of somatic and priestess and depth work, and that weave reaches certain women. That is all it is. Somewhere right now a woman is standing in her own circle, on her own hillside, at her own kitchen sink, hearing her own call. There are so many of us doing this beautiful work, each in her own language, each holding her own thread of the same weaving.

And I keep finding others who have heard it too - so many of us! Luisa Omielan, the comedian, created an entire show called God is a Woman, reimagining Mary Magdalene, unpicking religion's role in the suppression of women. And at the end she told the audience that this had happened to her. That this was why she made it. Mark A. Shryock, a writer whose transmissions land in me like recognition, writes too about the bridge from the old narcissistic world to a heart-centred one, and says something I feel in my bones: that his job is to help the wayshowers get ready to help people across, and that his real job is to make himself obsolete, because there is not one person alive who cannot do what he is doing. My friend Laura Ireland dreamed her calling to bring 10,000 sisters to the land and connection with each other. 

That. That is what I mean. It is a chorus, not a solo. It was never meant to be a solo.

The real aha, when it came, was quiet.

I realised that what we are building is a bridge. Not a ladder from the human to the divine, not an escape hatch from the mess of being alive, but a bridge. We are spiritual beings living a human experience, and for so long the spiritual path has been presented as a leaving. Transcend. Rise above. Shed the body. Shed the pain. Shed the humanness.

But that is not what the voice in the circle showed me. What she showed me was embodied spirituality. The body is the doorway. The nervous system is holy ground. The real magic happens when we turn towards everything that has been poured into us that was never ours, the stories of the systems we live inside, the culture, the family lines, the wounds, and we let them move. Through the body. Through the living tissue where they are stored.

As those layers lift, something extraordinary happens. We access deeper spirituality. Far more magic to weave with - energy that transforms and jumps timelines. And in the very same movement we come home to our human lives and find that they are rich with joy, with love, with each other. It is not one or the other. The higher consciousness and the human consciousness weave together, and what they make together is so much more than we yet understand.

And we are living in a time where this matters more than it has ever mattered.

Most of us can feel the energetics shifting. System collapse is foretold in tradition after tradition, Hopi, Mayan, Vedic, and honestly, when you look clearly at the world, it feels somewhat inevitable. That rumbling beneath everything, the rumbling of the old religions, of empire and extraction and control, that is a death rumble. The old paradigm is crumbling. And what emerges in its place is going to depend entirely on what we are willing to become.

Which is why this work of coming home to the body, to the earth, to each other, in a way that is real and grounded and embodied, feels like the most important thing I know.

I say all of this from curiosity. Always from curiosity. Never from arrival.

I am not healed. I am not fixed. I am not finished. I am learning all the time. The amount we do not know is staggering!

Even science bows here. Everything we can see and touch, every star, every planet, every body, every atom of the ordinary world, makes up only around five percent of the universe. Most of the rest is dark matter and dark energy. We know it is there because we can watch its gravity bending light and holding galaxies together. But we cannot see it. We do not know what it is. It is simply there, vast and unseen, holding everything.

I find that stunning. The mystery is not a gap waiting to be closed. The mystery is most of what exists.

So I walk forward the way I stepped out of that circle. Changed. Promised. And certain of very little except this.

I have found my purpose. It is to walk beside women who are exploring their own edges. Women who want more magic in their lives, who want to bring something genuinely good into this world. Women who are unpicking what was never theirs. Women who feel the call and are terrified of going back to the laptop. Women who want to life through the love that they know in their deepest knowing. Women who want to rewild. 

This is what I hold. Circles and immersions and deep one-to-one work and gatherings on sacred land. Embodied spirituality, woman by woman, body by body, until the web remembers itself. And coming soon, as requested - the bridge itself: The Spiral Path, a journey, a community, a map.

Transmutation, transformation, transcendence in beautiful community - let's build it together.

With love, Natalie x