The Wild Circle

Home
United Kingdom
Cirencester
The Wild Circle

Spaces for ritual, reflection and connection. Women's circles in Gloucestershire and online. That beauty is access to joy.

I believe in beautiful spaces for women to come together in safety and solidarity, to find sanctuary and soulful connection as often as they need it. I trained in circle facilitation with Sister Stories, and believe in their mission - that ‘going to circle’ should become as commonplace for women as going to yoga. I believe in the importance of slowing down and connecting with yourself and your community of sisters. I believe we need ritual in our lives, something that signals to our minds and bodies that it is time to stop, to reflect, to be curious and open. I believe we all deserve the chance to spend time in the presence of beauty. That we all deserve to make time for joy. I believe in being inspired by the words and stories of others, that all women, all over the world, all have a story to share and something to teach us.

14/03/2026

A snapshot of future magic. Bluebells. Green shoots amongst the trees that, warmed by the sun in the coming days, will bloom into precious bluebells.

Bluebells that (crossing everything) are going to be out when we gather in the woods a week from today. Bluebells that will encircle our circle, that will carpet the woodland floor with spring colour. A simple, beautiful reminder of nature's resilience. Of everything in its time.

When we gathered in this place in November, the ground was hard, the earth was closed for the winter. It seemed impossible that life would come back to the quiet, frosty ground. But under the earth, held safe in the fertile soil, the bluebells were resting, waiting, gathering, nourishing, knowing, trusting. This too shall pass. Winter has softened into spring.

Come and walk amongst the bluebells with us. We have two spaces left for our Spring retreat. Link to book: https://www.thewildcircle.space/retreats

05/03/2026

Come home - to yourself, to nature, to community, to the village. Mark the arrival of spring in beautiful ancient woodland, share hot food around the fire, walk amongst the trees, hear the stories of brave, beautiful, compassionate women, find space to slow down, to stop spinning, be held, and let someone else take care of the details. All you have to do is be here. Book at the link in my bio

04/03/2026

One of the things I find most profound about circle spaces is their ability to offer an instant shift of pace and rhythm. Everything is crafted to invite a sense of slowing down, intention and stillness from the moment you step into the space. It's not a social space. It's not a casual space. It's not a therapeutic space. It's somewhere you can stop spinning, where you can gather, ground, reconnect and share the weight of all you carry. From the music to the soothing scents, to candles, lighting, blankets and a crackling fire, and the quiet contemplation of other women - this regular practice of showing up and slowing down is such a gift.

Monthly circles, Tuesday evenings, and seasonal circles in the woods quarterly. Next one 21 March.

26/02/2026

The world had never needed a matriarchy more. Proud to be part of a vital movement to build one. Gemma has given me the work of work that truly feels like medicine in a broken world. So much gratitude tonight.

31/01/2026

Last year, my sister and I both read 's book There Are Rivers In The Sky. We both loved it. Because we love everything single word she writes. Our shared love of her work began with Black Milk and has only deepened with each book. Halfway through reading Rivers, inspired by the tattoo artist character and the way Shafak conveyed the beauty of ancient Sumerian - the oldest written language/alphabet in the world - I suggested to Laura we both got a tattoo, something that meant something to us both. A year later, and we found a way to weave all these things together. A tattoo that says 'sister' in cuneiform, which we got done on what would have been our baby sister's 40th birthday. It was amazing. is an absolute bona fide angel who honoured the meaning behind our tattoo with such kindness and skill. Another step along the crazy world of loss and rediscovering ourselves, and finding the rituals that mark loss and rememberance in ways that feel real and true.

❤️ ❤️

09/01/2026

I have never found a good way to mark the anniversary of a death. Probably because there isn't a good way. It's just a day really. They're still dead the day before and will still be dead the day after. Death is forever. Grief doesn't live in the neat or scheduled places. How do we mark this hideous milestone that only serves to remind us how much time has passed since the world split in two? The time before, the time after.

I've tried going away, but I felt disconnected from place, from memory, untethered somehow. I've tried being alone but I just felt lost and sad. Sometimes you can't force these things. Or try to make them feel any different. You need to weave these moments into your existence somehow.

My mother died on 4 January. There is no getting away from the fact that it hovers over Christmas, and looms into the new year. It just is what it is. We continue to live and thrive and grow and evolve. And celebrate. And so, her death anniversary needs to become in some way a part of this yearly tradition. And so, we weave her in.

This year, after a conversation with my lovely husband about little ways to mark big things, we came up with our own family 'Mummy death ritual' - something that honoured her and her little ways, and yet was also part of our ongoing lives.

When my sister was alive, my mum always kept the slice that was sawn off the trunk of her Christmas tree as a memento, writing my sister's name and the year on it. I'm not sure why, but she did. And I've always remembered it. This year, I did the same, and kept it on a shelf above the Aga to dry out. Then on the 4 January, we lit the firepit, gathered a huge pile of branches from our own Christmas tree, poured out the last of the Christmas sherry, and stood in the frosty garden, burning our tree and this year's tree slice to the fire. The children ran about, burnt some branches, disappeared off, and we stood together, happily warming ourselves on the flames and watching this little disc slowly burn to ash.

It was beautiful, and seasonal, slow, and quite ordinary really. Just a moment in our larger lives to remember, honour, connect.

25/11/2025

I missed an appointment this morning due to mundane school drama and rural town 'traffic chaos'. Finding myself with a spare hour, I went to see my mum and sister. And, how I wish that looked different to what it is in reality....

Somehow in so many ways, the loss just gets bigger and bigger.

On the way there, I bravely drove past my mum's house, remembering how many mornings I'd pull up outside her front door, and unload a car of excited, sticky, chaotic children who would run into her arms and sink into her softness with happy sighs. And she would make me a coffee and sit me in 'my' chair at her kitchen table, and I'd download the latest minutiae from my life, give her a quick hug, finish my coffee, and head home, the children barely waving me goodbye as they climbed aboard her seemingly ever-ready lap for cuddles, stories, safety.

And as I stood at the grave, looking at the years that have passed since my sister died - I was struck by how much loss is held on this stone. Half my family, gone in a year. Both times shocking, unexpected, horribly fast.

There was peace there too. The sunlight on the stone, the beautiful words honouring those who rested below. It felt good to be there. But then, eventually, you must turn and walk away, leaving it behind. Stepping somehow from one world into another. Everytime another sense of loss, another little death.

No way to wrap this caption up with neat words or profound reflections on life and death. I miss them. Endlessly. Always. I carry that loss around with me. Huge and heavy still. Perhaps more hidden, less obvious than it used to be, but no less enormous, no less felt. No less felt.

14/11/2025

Deeply wintering today. Started with early morning yoga, and now I'm curled into a cosy chair, warmed by the aga, with the rain pouring down outside, tinkering with some client work while listening to the beautiful sessions from the Lifting the Lid Festival - a global online festival exploring death, dying and grief. Absolutely loving Dallas Black's discussion on 'The Art of Dying' journeys through death, ritual and design. I feel so blessed that I get to craft days like this, that blend work, rest and restorative moment of calm.

11/11/2025

Close the year softly and intentionally - retreat to the woods to reconnect with what matters, with what nourishes you. Fill your cup with friendship and community, women, words, wonder - share stories and food around the fire, be held in tenderness and compassion, met exactly where you are. Breathe in the scent of wood smoke, loamy earth and sweet pine, hear birdsong, the wind through the leaves, the wisdom of women. Walk amongst the trees, put your feet on the soil, come home to yourself.

This is your last chance to be in the woods with us this year...

10/11/2025

Wisdom from my inbox. Cheryl Strayed is one of my favourite writers and this puts into words everything I think about living into the seasons, welcoming the dark as much as the light and trusting the circular nature of things, the need to dig in, root down, descend into the darkness, in order that we can grow. Trust the slowing down of your life, let the darkness in.

If you feel the need to gather and descend on community then there are two ways to reconnect this November - my monthly women's circle next Tuesday evening, 7:30 pm near Cirencester, and then Ground & Gather, in the woods 29 November - a day to return to the wild village, shared experience, compassion, rest, nourishment, love, around the fire.

A few spaces left for both - book online, link in bio

06/11/2025

"Oh woman, remember who you are, woman, it is the whole earth." (Joy Harjo) Obsessed with this sculpture I came across today by the incredibly talented which featured in an exhibition in Detroit in the summer entitled 'Of the earth'.

Everything about 'Ona' seems to evoke all the feelings that emerged in circle last night - that need to dig into the soil, to stretch out our tendrils far and wide, to root down deep in the earth, to nestle, hibernate, burrow, surrender - to reconnect with that idea what we come from the earth and we can return there when we need to.

Wintering feels like it is upon us and, as the darkness descends, I find I am gratefully ready to soften and slow, to stay in, to turn off, tune out.

And it struck me last night what a beautiful month November is to be able to do this - almost in preparation for a December of love and connection, of warmth and joy. We can allow space for something else first - letting in what feels hard and heavy, acknowledging it, sitting with it, holding ourselves in the silence, breathing deep into the wounds that we carry.

In this way, we compost our internal soil, the landscape of our soul, letting pain, loss, tiredness and tenderness move through us, listening to the signs that tell us it is time to slow down, to honour all the facets of our lives, the dark and light, to howl and hide, and sleep and soothe.

Because this too shall pass, the darkness, will clear, and when it does, we can step into a new month softly, lightly, lovingly.

Happy wintering my loves.
♥️

23/09/2025

Season of the Soul... this time of year, I feel so undone and turned inside out. As the heat of summer fades and we all fall back into routine there's a shifting sense of endings, loss - a desire to burrow deep and catch our breath.

So do that. Come. Catch your breath. With me. And twelve other incredible women. This Saturday. In beautiful ancient woodland near Cirencester. There will be hot tea and shared meals around the fire, meditations, woodland wandering, hammock lazing, a dance to witness between the trees, and space. So much space to be heard, seen, met with whatever feels heavy or hard, whatever is big and beautiful, whatever is special and sacred. If it matters to you, if it needs to be voiced, there is space here for that.

12-6pm, 27 September, £68 - includes all food and drinks

Address

Daglingworth
Cirencester

Website

https://www.thewildcircle.space/

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when The Wild Circle posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Practice

Send a message to The Wild Circle:

Shortcuts

Want your practice to be the top-listed Clinic in Cirencester?