Juliet Bloom Counselling

Juliet Bloom Counselling 🧡Wu~Wei Psychotherapy
🧡Wild Wu~Wei Women’s Circles
🧡Wu~Wei Yoga

www.thewuwei.co.uk

20/10/2025

The Death of A Parent đŸŒș

Death of a parent is the worst that can happen to a child.

There are many other chronic traumas of course but the death of a parent during childhood breaks the foundation of their development.
Why?
Because a parent is the source of Existence for a child. When our existence is threatened and not healed, we continue to grow with those fears, insecurities, lack of belonging, lack of orientation, lack of trust, and all other belief programs and feelings as a result of this death.

The death of a mother is even worse.
Why?
Because a mother is the first home for a child.

The mother gives birth to the child, the fountain of life, the first open door to earth. The mother is the first touch, the first smell, the first source of food, the first in existence of a child.

When a mother dies during childhood, the child needs to trust in another home that will not leave like the mother left.

Children subconsciously don’t comprehend death. What grows within them is the fact that their mother or father left them and that it is not safe to be on earth. That they are not loved enough and that’s why the mother or father left them. The mother is their first connection with their own feminine dimension. The father is their first connection with their own masculine dimension.

What happens to children when a parent dies?They move on, in a survival mode. Closing their hearts, closing their free expression and developing patterns and methods for survival.

On the outside, they continue to live and grow through all the stages of development. But their inner world is fixated and blocked from the natural flow of development due to the unresolved and unhealed pain, which impacts their decisions and relationships in the outer world.

They grow up searching for this security and love in the outside, choosing men and women to project on them their own needs, their need to feel safe again to be vulnerable.

Unfortunately, this also happens when loosing a parent due to divorce and separation. It just differs from one situation to the other depending on other factors.

But every child needs the mother and the father in one place. Why? Because this is the essence of existence and how we are from within. The feminine, the masculine and the child. When the outside setting is out of balance, our inside grows out of balance until we heal.

Healing is the journey of returning to this balance.

✍ Sarah Moussa - The Writer

17/10/2025

"Go with the flow is a great idea and Taoism was a great idea but the problem is, that in spite of depth of this ancient idea and the modern hope to go with the flow of things, people have trouble doing that because a lot of the flow is unconscious or goes against what we consciously want to do. So Processwork attempts to find out what is happening in the moment and what is happening that you don't want to perceive 
 so it works with two levels of perception."

Arnold Mindell interviewed by Jeffrey Mishlove, Thinking Allowed
http://youtu.be/aKNKkmuqW9U
Process Psychology and Your Dream Body

02/10/2025

Mae’r darlun hwn wedi’i ysbrydoli gan stori werin Palestina o’r enw ‘Nightingale the Crier’, stori werin a ddarllenais yn ‘Speak, Bird, Speak Again’ - casgliad o straeon gwerin Arabaidd Palestina o Gaza, Galilea a’r Lan Orllewinol, gan Ibrahim Muhawi a Sharif Kanaana. Mae’n gasgliad hardd ac yr wyf yn ei argymell yn drylwyr i chi ei ddarllen, ac fel rhywun sy’n caru straeon gwerin rydw i wedi mwynhau darllen drwyddynt i gyd, wedi’u cludo i fydoedd newydd a chyfarwydd. Mae adrodd straeon ysgrifenedig a llafar yn ein haddysgu a’n hatgoffa, ac mae’n ffordd mor bwysig o warchod a dathlu diwylliant, treftadaeth a hunaniaeth, yn enwedig pan fydd ymdrechion mor farbaraidd i’w dinstrio a’i dileu .

//

This illustration is inspired by the Palestinian folk tale ‘Nightingale the Crier’, a folktale which I read in ‘Speak, Bird, Speak Again’ - a collection of Palestinian Arab folktales from Gaza, Galilea and the West Bank, by Ibrahim Muhawi and Sharif Kanaana. It’s a beautiful collection which I throughly recommend you read, and as a lover of folktales I’ve enjoyed reading through them all, transported to worlds both new and familiar. Written and oral storytelling serves to teach and remind us, and is such an important way of preserving and celebrating culture, heritage and identity, especially when there are such barbaric efforts to destroy and erase it.

02/10/2025

Chloë Goodchild is an international singer, composer, innovatory educator, author and founder of The Naked Voice (1990) and its UK Charitable Foundation (2004), dedicated to the exploration of voice as a practice for compassionate communication, personal and global transformation.

02/10/2025

Find Your Naked Voice - Opening the DoorYour Naked Voice is the original sound within you, the voice of your spirit longing to unfold. It is as unique as your DNA or fingerprint. By falling in love with your Naked Voice, you can redeem this true sound and discover its ability to awaken your life in....

02/10/2025

I remember seeing a quote once, and I have no idea who said it, but it hit me like a train.
It said, "To the animals. May we be forgiven. "
It has always stayed with me.

What also stays with me is how one person and their soul's calling can change the world and those who inhabit it.
RIP Jane Goodall - what an extraordinary footprint you have left on this earth.

Photo by Michael 'Nick' Nichols
www.teallach.com

22/09/2025

Blessings on this Autumn Equinox ~ the wheel has turned once more đŸƒđŸ’«đŸ‚

The Old English word for equinox is ‘emniht’, from ‘efen’ and ‘niht’, when night and day are evenly balanced. Today is the ‘hérfestlice emniht’, autumnal equinox; after this (says Byrhtferth of Ramsey) ‘langað seo niht and wanað se dég’, ‘the night lengthens and the day wanes’.

“May the warmth of the sun, nurture you;
The cool waters, cleanse you;
Nature’s bounty, replenish you;
The song of the trees, comfort you;
The knowledge of the bees, guide you”

19/09/2025

Life is messy.
Compost is messy.
Being human is messy.
Creating culture is messy.

We’ve been fooled into believing it all needs to be perfect.
Perfected. Strive, strive, strive.

Take this workshop, take that workshop.
Get better. Produce more.
More degrees, more certificates.
Botox your lips. Tuck your tummy.
Chisel yourself into a shape that will finally be acceptable.

But for thousands of years,
our ancestors lived by the natural cycles.
The Wheel of the Year. The spiral of growth,
harvest, decay, and renewal.
It’s only in the last few centuries
that industrial thinking has threaded its way
into everything
teaching us to think like machines.

Social media intensifies the lie:
perfect poses, perfect feeds, perfect lives.
And when we’re not scrolling,
we’re bombarded with ads:
this course, that course, this upgrade, that fix.

Sometimes, you just have to get real with the s**t.
With the mess.
The mess I am. The mess you are.

I’m not perfect. I make mistakes — in parenting, teaching, relationships.
I try to balance my own compost
with what I am preserving.
I look for seeds I can carry forward into new forms.
But I also need the mess
the compost
to fertilize those seeds later.

Compost is sacred.
It reminds us life is not a straight line.
Not a ladder to climb.
Not a polished profile.

Life is circular. Spiral. Ever-changing.
Moments of mess. Moments of rest. Moments of ordeal. Moments of transformation.
The whole, not just the parts.

My first teacher — a big, bold Sicilian-American woman who refused the title “spiritual teacher” — used to make a mess of everything, just to teach me not to put her on a pedestal. She once took me to the dump and said:

“Honey, if you want to know what’s spiritual — you’re looking at it right now.”

That broke something open. I had divided the world into “spiritual” and “not spiritual,” holy and unholy, better and worse. But that’s the lie of the line.

You can’t have preserves without compost.
You can’t have the seed
without the death of the flower.
The caterpillar becomes new
only by drinking its own mess.

So go gently today.
Be more human.
Bring your mess out of exile.
Let it belong.

Words: The Wild Remembering

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