One of the big dreams of my childhood was to become a doctor.
Instead, the ebb and flow of life saw me dip into a short service as a radiographer in a busy A&E in post-communist Bulgaria, then throw myself into navigating a lengthy finance career in the city of London. Then one day, I paused for long enough, to recall my childhood dream. Only this time I understood why it never came to life in its original shape – I wanted to simply help people live better lives, not treat their conditions.
My belief is that the deepest healing, the one that leads to our wholeness as humans, happens in the space between two people. That sacred space, lined up with deep listening, full presence and complete acceptance. Then in that sense, the modality becomes somewhat irrelevant.
My own healing journey has encouraged me to look for answers virtually everywhere. This quest has led me to learn about and experiment with, numerous holistic tools such as nutrition, running, meditation, conscious breath-work and yoga.
These practices have also collectively helped me quench an innate desire to make sense of a tiny flame within me.
I recall this flame first emerging. My brother used to get some intense headaches as a teenager and I would lay my hands over his head to try and soothe the pain. He used to fall asleep briefly then wake up suddenly, shake his head to check if the pain was still there, then smile and jump up.
And in those moments, sitting perfectly still and quiet so I don’t interrupt the pain on its way out, I recall feeling strangely connected to something within me; with no idea what it was back then, it felt like a speck of warm light, somewhere deep within my chest.
Over the years, I felt this each time a friend trusted me enough to let me get close to the tension in their head.
Back in 2014, I trained as a yoga teacher. My favourite part of teaching was giving my students a relaxation protocol they taught us in yoga school, during savasana. It involved resting my hands at the base of their head for a little while at the end. I noticed that few began to fall asleep then report some unfamiliar relaxation having washed over their bodies. While I sat there quietly, waiting for them to stir back into life, I felt that same speck of light in my heart starting to grow bigger and bolder.
Around then, synchronicities in my world helped me realise that what I had been doing might have a name after all – Craniosacral Therapy.
Living in Bali, Indonesia at the time, I was fortunate enough to train with Dr Leonid Soboleff and upon my return to the UK, with Thomas Attlee, at the College of Cranio-Sacral Therapy in London.
Today, a fully qualified therapist, I feel the essence of Craniosacral work resonating from the core of my being. It is gentle yet profound (the most tender of approaches, if accurate, can be the most deeply healing). It allows us to come back to a place of harmony and balance. It allows me to use my intuition, love for deep listening and high sensitivity, to be in service of something bigger than myself – The Breath of Life, expressed in the tides within us.