Breda Farrell Counselling and Psychotherapy

21/10/2025

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14/01/2025

17/10/2023

I THINK IT WAS JUST WOMEN

It must have been a terrifying sight to behold,
a group of witches gathered by firelight,
chanting, conjuring spirits, creating spells…

No wonder some were afraid.

But I think it was just women.

Being women.

Coming together, as they very much must,
to support one another,
to share their battles and pull each other
through the flames
they faced daily.

Sharing remedies, medicines
and ways to heal.

And believing they were so much more than told,
than allowed.

It is little wonder that the power of this union would appear like magic, to the unknowing eye.

But I think it was just women.

Doing what we do,

every day.

Donna Ashworth
‘Wild Hope’
https://amzn.eu/d/2j0Nquu

Art by Angela Ferreira - Magic Paintings.

17/10/2023

Buried inside even our deepest neuroses are the raw materials of healing. All of the less-than-awakened thoughts, unfelt feelings, unmetabolized shame, and burning raw sensations in the body.

They are portals into life, but they require illumination, safe passage, and a fiery sort of compassion in order to yield their wisdom

The s**t, the p**s, the dirt, the failures, the heartbreak, disappointment, the crumbling relationships, the disintegrating ideas about the ways we thought it would all turn out.

The achiness of a tender body and heart, the shattering aliveness of our sensitivity and vulnerability, the bittersweet miracle of somehow being granted a human form.

While we live in a world that has forgotten the mystery of dissolution, it is the nature of all form to arise and to pass, shapeshifting into greater cohesiveness and wholeness.

When the materials of soul are spinning into holy reorganization, go into the earth, into slowness, into the body, and into the ground.

Lay your hands on your heart, on your belly.

Listen. Feel. Sense.

The temptation will always be to replace the darkened form with something else – some new person, belief system, identity, or feeling to cut into the unresolvable, pregnant, uncertain, unknown. Into the womb of the quantum.

This ancient longing for relief need not be shamed, nor approached with abandonment and aggression, but held as utterly valid and workable, allowed to arise, unfold, and be metabolized in curious, loving awareness.

But the deeper invitation is to rest in the deflation itself, to descend inside the core of the creative energies of the dissolution, and take refuge in the creativity and the intelligence found only there.

To slow down, finally, and touch the emptiness with love. To provide safe passage for the light to provide new birth.

05/11/2022

Meltdowns, difficult as they are to be around, are a bid for attention, connection and comfort.

07/10/2022

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