Bone-deep appreciation
Goosebumps, gratitude and MDMA.
I keep forgetting I’m going to open some presents in a few days. Christmas has crept up quicker than ever before and I haven’t been feeling very festive. Not in a Scroogey way – I’m buzzing about family time in Essex, heading up to the Norfolk coast and not running around London for a bit – it just feels a tad excessive, you know? I have what I need, and I’m grateful for it.
I want to highlight a certain breed of gratitude I’ve been drawn to recently. The visceral kind. The stuff you feel in your bones. This is the treasure I’m collecting, which can only come with awareness and presence. Blink and you’ll miss it.
Here are some recent examples:
Getting actual goosebumps when closing a breathwork session at Sāmya a few weeks ago. It’s always an intimate group, mainly the same three people who’ve been coming almost every week for a year, plus a few newbies and semi-regulars. Something has shifted in this class recently. More depth and raw energy. Very here for it. Join our Thursday breath club next year?
Sensing a strong pulse between mine and my mum’s palms at a Lie Down and Listen event in the Painted Hall in Greenwich. I talk a lot in my classes about arms being an extension of our heart and this was a living, beating example. After the gong and crystal bowls, a harpist played ‘On the Nature of Daylight’ by Max Richter. I cried warm, happy tears. Precious times.
Plonking Larry on top of Toby’s chest one morning in bed while he was half asleep. Larry then settled in between us, sandwich style – something he’s getting more comfortable with as his confidence grows. His purr creates the most soothing vibrations, satiating not only his vagus nerve but ours too. This gorgeous cat has brought new layers of love and grounding energy into ‘the gaff’ (it’s a lads’ house).
Swimming in a delicious subconscious soup in yin and breath classes recently. I’ve been practising with Evelyn, Lotte and Serafina at BLOK, noticing the ease with which I can drop into a slower pace these days. Contrast therapy has also been a lifeline for my physical health. I haven’t had a cold for ages (*touches sauna wood*).
Sifting through RA’s round-up of top electronic tracks from 2000-2025, a nostalgic deep dive that rejigged early memories of connecting with dance music. There’s a track on there (Skream’s remix of La Roux’s ‘In For The Kill’) that I first heard with my sister, at club that no longer exists. I took MDMA for the first time that night. My sister didn’t take any because she wanted to make sure I was looked after. It was 2009. We were 18 and 19. I’m so grateful for that memory, that experience, that care. I felt very safe – and very high! Everyone remembers their first trip ;)… and on a medicinal note, although we are way behind in the UK, it’s encouraging to read that MDMA is being trialled successfully for PTSD and other conditions. Here’s to less stigma and more progressive healing.
Retreat planning on video calls with Rekha in Kerala and Annida in South Goa and feeling like I was there with them. The abundance of greenery, their beautiful accents, the stillness of Little Flower Farms. If only I could taste the food! My flights are booked and I couldn’t be more excited. Our retreat in Vagamon, Kerala, begins on the full moon (2nd April). Do add your email here if you’d like to receive the details in early Jan.
Feeling the embodied power of saying no to alcohol over the past four weeks. On 22nd November, I decided to give it a break and I’m still going. I’m feeling into it over Christmas and New Year, trying not overthink it. I may choose to have a glass or two and this will be a conscious choice. Right now, I’m not feeling it. This new relationship has done wonders for my mental health. More on this another time.
There it is, a gratitude list of sorts. I’m not certain of much but I’m fairly sure writing one of these has never made anyone feel worse. Being grateful is one of the most important things we can be, yet the suggestion of a list can feel a bit forced. A bit twee.
It’s not gratitude’s fault though. It’s been tainted with the live-laugh-love brush, for which we can blame the Oliver Bonas notebooks, stamped with slogans in bad fonts. And then there’s the yoga teachers who waffle on about it. Me included.
But isn’t reflecting on what we already have also an act of hope? Gratitude has a collective spirit. It’s also fuel for contentment (in yogic philosophy, santosha, undoubtedly one of the best Sanskrit words).
Contentment is also the antidote to the epidemic of more. We are magpies for more and new, and the other weekend I gave into that. I bought a shiny thing: a pair of black silk trousers at a sample sale. I have other similar pairs. I did that whole justification dance, declaring them a staple. Had I taken time to be grateful for my existing silky black trousers (or ‘slacks’, as my late grandmother would say), I wouldn’t have bought them and I would be £80 better off.
We do this all the time – buy things we don’t need, seek new relationships and experiences, which is all well and good and exciting, but the desire for more can be addictive, becoming an unconscious habit. It can also give rise to feelings of lack, an individualistic and rather isolating phenomenon. No one talks about lack on Instagram – it’s not very sexy – yet so many of us get caught up in it.
Whether it’s career, appearance, love life, belongings – perhaps most of us have at least one area where it feels like something’s lacking. There’s a constant search party for the missing piece, followed by more pieces. More, more, more. Lack has no time for acknowledgment of what we already have. It’s hardwired to highlight holes in what is already a great (albeit imperfect) life.
Gratitude goes against everything capitalism has told (sold?) us to believe. It’s out of fashion. They don’t make adverts on it – not at this time of year, or ever. So it’s kind of counter-cultural to be truly satisfied.
Gratitude often arrives viscerally when something is no longer present, ie in grief. As Joni sang, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. How many times have you read a sad post saying, ‘Tell your people/friends you love them’?
So, the invitation is to connect to the feeling of gratitude, as a priority.
When you think about something you’re grateful for, where do you sense it in your body? What experiences bring you that visceral, bone-deep appreciation? Close your eyes and see what surfaces, or just be on lookout. These are your treasures, your anchors during dark times.
Gratitude lists > Christmas lists, because we can’t take anything with us, except what has touched our soul. Might as well feel grateful.
PS I have an online gathering coming up: The Winter Portal. Join me on Mon 29 December for a cosy evening of ritual and reflection. Book in here.