Why I Do This Work

Deerpark, Howth

When life cracks you open and everything you knew falls away, where do you turn?

For those crossing thresholds they didn’t choose.

The uncomfortable, awkward in‑between space where old patterns are fading and new ways of being are emerging.

Letters from Liminal Healing Space is for anyone living inside grief that won’t lift.
A relationship that keeps mirroring the same wound.
A life transition that has undone what once felt certain.
Or the final passage.

This is a space for those willing to descend rather than distract.
To feel rather than fix.
To discover that transformation lives in the space in between,
where we can set aside unnecessary suffering
and embrace the journey.

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My Path Here

I’ve always sensed there was more to life than what we are usually given.

As a child, I had moments—glimpses of a larger way of being.

One that stayed with me happened when I was twelve, alone in a forest.
I met a squirrel.
We stopped and looked at one another, and everything went quiet.

There was an alive stillness.

I felt a communion with life.
A sudden bursting sense of love.
An undeniable knowing of our connectedness.

Moments like this set me on a lifelong journey of self-discovery—
less about finding out who I am,
and more about peeling away who I am not.

---

Around thirty years ago, I trained in bio-energy healing rooted in Chi Kung.

I witnessed remarkable recoveries and felt I had found my calling.

Then one day, a former client came for what she described as a “top-up.”
She was struggling in her relationship and wanted relief, but not change.

Something in me stopped—
like pulling a handbrake at speed.

It made me question deeply what I was doing, as it felt like assuaging rather than empowering.

---

Closing the practice, I turned instead toward wisdom traditions for lived experience and understanding.

One of the most influential was apprenticing in the Toltec teachings of the Eagle Knight lineage with Don Luis Molinar, one of Don Miguel Ruiz’s first apprentices.

Over three years—
through one-to-one work,
group workshops,
and a power journey to Teotihuacan in Mexico—
these experiences opened me to a profound sense of connection with Life
and the love that moves through us all.

---

During a period of regular meditation, I once found myself walking alone along a river in the early morning.

I stopped and noticed a tree.
It seemed unusually alive.

Then, as if a switch had been flicked, description fell away.

It was an experience of Presence—
where life seemed to be looking through my eyes,
and I was simply witnessing.

A deep inner peace arose
and stayed with me for over an hour.

I didn’t know it then,
but this inner work was preparing me.

---

The Threshold

Preparing me for the birth
and death
of my second daughter,
who died unexpectedly at twenty-two months.

Losing a child opens a wound that runs immeasurably deep.

From my experience, it is unlike any other loss.

It brings you into a descent many people instinctively avoid—
a liminal space of uncertainty,
definitely not in control,
where the ground beneath you is no longer stable.

The path is disorienting.
Nonlinear.

And yet, it is precisely in this space
where the deepest power of love,
and a fuller expression of who we truly are,
can emerge.

---

Drawing on healing tools and practices from many traditions,
I eventually reached a place where I no longer carry a burden.

What remains is gratitude.
Love.

Reverence for the journey.

For being her father and guardian
for our short time together,
and for my beloved daughter.

---

The Work

I now feel called to serve those who want to empower themselves
and discover the wisdom and healing that already lives within them.

The path of descent is not easy.

It requires effort.
Honesty.
Ownership.

But when we are willing to do the work,
we often discover that suffering is not the end of the story.

Pain will come—this is inevitable—
but suffering often grows when we resist,
avoid,
or turn away from what hurts.

Facing that pain is not about forcing it,
but about making the choice to meet it
when we feel safe enough.

In this presence,
love runs deeper than pain.

---

My role is not to fix,
but to hold space.

To create a container
in which insight can arise,
and new ways of being can emerge.

---

This often begins with slowing down.

Coming into the present moment.
Reconnecting with the heart.
Allowing what wants to arise.

Sometimes this looks like addressing repeated setbacks
or relationship difficulties—
and discovering that external conflict
has been mirroring a quiet self-rejection
beneath conscious awareness.

With this recognition,
healthier boundaries grounded in mutual respect can form.

---

Sometimes it is about moving through grief—
honouring what has been lost
while integrating the experience
and finding renewed purpose and hope.

And sometimes it is about standing at the final threshold—
facing fear and uncertainty,
and preparing for the next great adventure
with active acceptance and peace.

The work almost always involves dissolving blocks
and discovering the love and gratitude
on the other side of confusion, pain, and resistance.

What changes is not merely behaviour,
but fundamental shifts in being.

---

That twelve-year-old in the forest,
stopped by a squirrel’s gaze,
didn’t know where the path would lead.

Through healing practices and profound loss,
through moments of presence
and the deep grief,
I’ve learned this:

Transformation doesn’t happen by avoiding the descent.
It happens by meeting it.

---

This is why Letters from Liminal Healing Space exists.

Not to fix or rescue,
but to companion those willing to face what’s true.

To honor what hurts.

To trust that within the liminal space—
in that uncomfortable, awkward in-between—
something is waiting to emerge.

If you’re here,
you’re already on the path.

Thank you for walking it with me.