Celebrant Susy

18/08/2025

There’s currently a $110m yacht - La Datcha - at anchor in Kilfinan bay, and I bet they’re not having a fraction of the fun we had this weekend when I traded my celebrant garb for a lifejacket. Haven’t seen any of them drinking G&T off the back of a unicorn, anyway. 🤣🤪

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DNfi9-LIPT8/?igsh=MnZkcTR3ejFjcG51

18/08/2025

🔥 No hell. No brimstone. Just… be nice anyway. Ricky Gervais nailed it, and it’s at the heart of what I see in my work as a celebrant. New blog up now : grab a coffee and take five.

Amongst many a pearl of wisdom, Ricky Gervais once said, “You won’t burn in hell. But be nice anyway.”When I first read it, I wanted to punch the air. Because that quote sums up what humanism means to me. No fire and brimstone. No eternal punishment or reward. Just… a quiet, conscious choice...

11/08/2025

Carolyn and I nearly fell out over this one (she’s usually right, which is very irritating).
She asked me whether I cared about my legacy — and my immediate response was, no, I don’t. Not even a bit.
For me, what matters most isn’t what people will say when I’m gone, but how I show up for them while I’m here.
Click the link if you'd like to read more.

The other day, Carolyn asked me what I wanted my legacy to be.It’s a good question, and one we’re often encouraged to ask as celebrants when preparing a funeral ceremony for a grieving family. It also comes up in end-of-life coaching. Legacy can be a powerful way to reflect on the impact we’ve...

04/08/2025

Death is one of the few certainties in life—and yet we’re so often lost for words when it comes close. In this blog, I share how I came to offer end of life coaching: not as a way to fix or hurry grief, but to walk alongside people with kindness, clarity, and compassion.

Whether you’re navigating a terminal diagnosis, supporting someone who is, or just feeling the weight of the unspoken, you don’t have to face it alone.

👣 Read more about what this work means to me, and how we can make space for honesty, dignity, and even moments of light—right to the very end.

When I first started working as a funeral celebrant, I honestly thought my role would be pretty straightforward. I imagined delivering ceremonies - whether at a graveside, a local village hall, a crematorium, a woodland, or even a beach. I pictured myself working with grieving families, crafting eul...

28/07/2025

Sometimes, the hardest part of grief isn’t what we’ve lost—it’s the hope we keep holding onto.
In this blog, I’ve written about the strange freedom that comes when we stop hoping things will go back to how they were… and start finding a way forward from what is.
If you’ve ever felt stuck in that in-between place, this one’s for you.

There’s a particular kind of grief that doesn’t come with black clothes or funeral flowers. It doesn’t come all at once, or even loudly. It just… settles in. Quietly. Slowly. And then refuses to leave.I have a friend whose mum once told her siblings that she’d be very happy never to clap e...

21/07/2025

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the shape joy takes after we lose someone. Not the big, shiny kind of joy that arrives with party poppers and Prosecco, but the gentler kind—the kind that sneaks up on you in a story, a song, or a snort-laugh you didn’t see coming.

During my training, I was lucky enough to be part of a celebration of life for a man whose adventures made the room both weep and wheeze with laughter. And it reminded me, all over again, that laughter isn’t something we move on to after grief. Sometimes, it’s the thing that carries us through it.

This post is for anyone who’s found themselves laughing through tears—and wondered if that was allowed. (It absolutely is.)

There’s a moment - sometimes days after a funeral, sometimes weeks or months or even longer - when someone tells me, in a whisper as if it’s a confession, “I laughed today.” Or, “I caught myself singing along to the radio in the kitchen. And then I felt awful.”Because somewhere along the...

21/07/2025

Good morning from misty Tobermory! The coffee’s on, the water’s like a mill pond, and the sun’s is already starting to burn off the haar. Not a bad start to the day. 🤗⛵️☀️

14/07/2025

This short video touches on one of the many reasons I work as a Humanist Celebrant: because I believe in kindness, equality, and personal responsibility—not fear, hierarchy, or inherited guilt.

The stories we tell ourselves about life, death, and meaning matter deeply. And I believe those stories should be rooted in compassion and humanity—not in texts written by people who thought human sacrifice was acceptable.

This isn’t about attacking belief—it’s about offering an alternative. One grounded in love, integrity, and freedom of thought.

13/07/2025

Saying no can feel uncomfortable at the best of times—but in the middle of grief, it can feel almost impossible.

As a humanist celebrant in Argyll, I’ve been honoured to walk beside people at some of the hardest moments of their lives. And again and again, I’m reminded that grief and love are two sides of the same coin.When we’re grieving, it’s easy to fall into saying yes to things we don’t want to ...