What channel is right?

Instagram? No.

Substack. Yeah, maybe better.

I arrive. I click the + button. It asks me to pick….

Note: what’s on your mind? No, too fleeting.

Article: it will not be that long.

Video, podcast, live… OK, article it is. And here I am.

Grief is back in my life.

Does it ever leave? I do not think I ever live my life without grief floating around for one reason or another. We are so used to grief being labelled as bad and painful and unpredictable and clingy.

I have transformed my relationship with grief. The transformation started many years ago, very consciously. I had to state that it was happening. Lately, it has transformed in a much more seamless way.

Last week I got hit by grief for someone I never met in person but connected with on a soul level. A generous soul.

This week the grief is different. It has not been triggered by physical death.

Oh great! I hear you saying, and I smile back at you. Yeah, of course, if grief is not related to losing someone forever, it must be milder. And maybe it is. Or maybe not.

Grieving something that you thought could be and won’t be anymore, but is still accessible, is not that easy. It requires strong will on top. And grief makes us very vulnerable, so the strong will gets tested at every corner.

I was journaling a moment ago before deciding I needed to write more publicly.

I wrote the following words: I feel like there is a hole in my ‘circle’. It is there, I can see it. It is dark, black, actually. It has your shape. I smile. It is not scary. It is made of love.

Grief is a hole full of love.

Grief is born from love.

If there was no love, there would be no grief.

Exactly like death is born from life. If there was no life, there would be no death.

I find these thoughts soothing. Loving. I do feel love while I have these thoughts.

It does not ease the grief.

I feel it in my chest, in my throat, in my jaw.

Why is that? My answer comes up clearly: because grief needs to be spoken. Keeping grief to ourselves hurts us. Sharing our feelings of grief - our fear, our love, our struggles, our memories - with others makes grief lighter, more tender, more vaporous. It does not make it go away. It just lightens the load.

This must be why I felt like moving from journaling to this. It does not matter if it will be read or not. It might be, and that is enough for me right now. This ‘article’ is part of my healing process. Another one. Or maybe it is always the same, never-ending, on a continuum of grief processing.

Are the griefs we feel throughout our life for different people, experiences, parts of ourselves separate entities? Or is it one, a continuum that transforms itself, that shrinks and expands but never really disappears completely? I do not need an answer.

At the moment I believe it is the latter, but I might change my mind tomorrow.

I almost feel that my grief is a reassuring presence, like a companion that the more I have befriended throughout life, the more has helped me grow and evolve into who I am right now.

It is a discrete presence when joy comes along. It has learnt not to steal the show. I have been learning the same.

We are walking a similar path, my grief and I.

Maybe the same path, on reflection.

In 2006, I hated what my life in Milan had become. After three days in London on a cold November day with beautiful blue skies, I made my decision while sitting in a Starbucks in Canary Wharf. I resigned the week after and moved four months later with a heavy suitcase, no flat, and no job.

The year that followed brought sleepless nights and moments of deep loneliness, wondering if I’d made a catastrophic mistake. It also brought the first glimpses of a life I actually wanted to live. For years I walked the streets of London in disbelief about having landed there and making a living.

Did I have evidence immediately it was the RIGHT decision? Hell no. I had left certainty and comfort for risk and discomfort.

Did I know deep down it was the RIGHT decision? Hell yes. Every fibre of my body was screaming ‘Keep going’.

Now, 19 years later, do I know if that was the RIGHT decision? I know it was the decision that felt right, the decision that gave me the fuel to fight, build, create, connect, grow, learn.

In 2022, I left a life that on paper was close to perfect but had become a silent killer of health, of joy, of inspiration, of who I truly am. I walked away from years of sacrifice without a penny. I chose to bow out when everyone else was staying to cash in.

The years that followed brought sleepless nights and moments of financial worry, wondering if I’d made a catastrophic mistake. They also brought a much more balanced and fulfilling life. I felt free, courageous, creative and alive again.

Did I have evidence immediately it was the RIGHT decision? Hell no. Once again, I had left certainty and comfort for risk and discomfort.

Did I know deep down it was the RIGHT decision? Hell yes. Once again, every fibre of my body was screaming ‘Keep going’.

Now, three years later, do I know if that was the RIGHT decision? Same as before: I know it was the decision that felt right, the decision that gave me the fuel to fight, build, create, connect, grow, learn.

In both cases, I made the decision that felt right to me at that point in time, with my body screaming for me to make it. Then I took the steps required to make it right — to me, no one else.

Most people I work with are paralysed by making the RIGHT decision. What if I make the wrong decision? How do I know if my decision is the right one? These questions lead to standing still, optimising for certainty over truth.

If you’re at one of those crossroads, paralysed by the quest for the right answer, let’s talk. Not so I can tell you what’s right, but so you can hear what your body is already screaming.

Pictures: 2008, having fun at the Christmas party in my first London job at Modem Media/Publicis Modem, where I met some of the best friends in life; 2025, a pic of me I adore, taken by one of these friends in Liguria, Italy. Something went right in-between.

The sky is grey. The air is frosty. The willow is sleeping, curled up in an invisible blanket that keeps him warm and safe.

Squirrels and birds come to visit him but the willow doesn’t come back from his deep, tranquil sleep.

The owl even said to the black bird that she heard him snoring last night.

How funny!

And then the sky gets lighter and bluer. The air gets milder. And the willow starts wakening up, slowly at the beginning and then fast, all of a sudden. His leaves come alive, of a bright green, full of hope and newness. Flexibility return in its branches and the willow starts dancing in the wind, swinging left and right, caressing the water and the ducks passing him by.

The willow is awake and so alive again! The birds and the squirrels talk to him and he finally answers back with his deep, warm, reassuring voice.

The owl even said to the black bird that she heard him singing last night.

How beautiful!

[Listen to this beautiful meditation and music for 8 minutes of stillness.]

This is who I am: a soul who feels a sharp and unexpected pain when she discovers the amputated trunk and leftovers on the ground of one of her favourite trees.

I built so many memories under that tree, memories of blue and grey skies, of leaves changing colours with the change of seasons, of birds and clouds passing by, of emotions of all kind storming and flowing through me.

I had a chat with a kind man who was there, by the tree’s remains, painting the beautiful landscape ahead. In our brief conversation, the connection was our common grief for a living creature like a tree that it’s easy to take for granted but that we both cherished when alive and that now that it’s gone we miss deeply.

I am still weeping. It’s the day after and I am still weeping at the thought of it.

Maybe my grief for this tree which is real has unplugged deeper grief for so much more, buried inside of me.

Grief for all the people I have lost over the years and that, in this life, I will never hug, laugh with, speak to again. For those parts of me forever gone: the connections, the places, the beliefs that once were and are no more. For the state of the world, for all of those who are suffering on an individual and collective level.

I have learned that grief, when allowed to move through you, becomes an alchemy.

Pushed down, denied, it kills silently.

I feel my tears and I cherish them as much as I cherished everything that has gone forever.

I welcome the shedding, the letting go, the burning what is not needed anymore and see the ashes as a fertiliser for newness, spaciousness, stronger roots and greener leaves.

Grief is painful, is ever-lasting and is part of life and is necessary to keep building, evolving, growing, reaching new levels of self-awareness and consciousness.

Who am I?

I used to respond with labels, and my job title led the answer for so many years.

I thought I knew a lot. I was a fool.

I still know very little, with the difference that now I know that is the case.

One thing I know for sure is that without death and grief I would not be the person I am today.

I am grateful to all that pain and emptiness, for that black hole that nothing seems to be able to fill.

Even now that I have this perspective on death and grief, I know I have earned no immunity. The pain will still come in waves, sometimes tsunami heights that make me feel like I’m drowning. Then the water releases its grasp, allows me to catch air, before returning again. And the cycle will go on.

For now, I stay with the grief for my cherished tree, knowing that others have felt and feel the same way. When grief is shared it loses power, we take the power, we acknowledge it and allow it to be, because we want it, not because it forces its way in.

I will search for a new tree to cherish the now gone tree and reconnect to new perspectives and build new memories.

My grief will be my new sap for rebirth.

Video: I took this video from where the fallen tree used to stand. Nature was grieving too and I felt one with it.

13th March 2007.

That was the day I had decided to move to London with my 34-kilo suitcase.

The evening before I had said goodbye to my friends of a lifetime over a pizza. That's what you do when you are Italian. It felt like I was going to Mars. Their anxiety was my anxiety, their excitement my excitement.

I woke up in the morning almost ready to go. I opened my emails. There was one that threw me into a world of despair. I had misunderstood - my English was that bad and combined with my naivety despite my 29 years of age were to blame - and I did not have a room where to go.

At that time, and for many years after, my response to fear was anger. I was crying but also yelling randomly, probably blaming someone else and, I am sure, also my own self. In my lack of compassion I was definitely also lacking self-compassion, just to be fair to everyone.

My mum was witnessing the catastrophe unfolding. She dared suggesting "Do not fly today, you will get the accommodation sorted and go in the next few days". I can hear myself even now shouting: "Are you out of your mind?! I had decided I am flying today and I will not change my plan, no matter what!".

Those poor parents of mine drove me to Milan Malpensa airport.

I went with them to the check-in, dropped off that huge luggage of mine and started walking towards the gates, still agitated as a can of Coke that rolled down a mountain.

I hear a voice saying: "Ale, ciao!". I turn and here is Marco, a friend of friends.

"What are you doing here?" he said.
"I am moving to London. How about you?".

"I was supposed to move to London too but I got a job last week and it was too good to decline it".

"Oh, good for you! Congrats."

"My friend Alessio is still going though, so, unexpectedly he is off on his own. I am sure he would be happy to meet you. Up for it?"

"Yes, of course!".

Marco introduces me to Alessio, a quiet, reserved engineer. All of a sudden I was not alone anymore. A relief took over all of us, my parents probably more than anyone else. I think Alessio was torn about being relieved or burdened by this encounter: as an agitated can of Coke I was beyond bubbly which means I was talking non-stop to him for the entire flight. Back then my lack of boundaries was pretty legendary.

Despite that, he still asked me if I wanted to consider going with him to the hostel reception given that is where he had booked a room. Maybe they would have had an accommodation for me too.

We got there. They asked us if we wanted to share his double room and without any hesitation I said "Yes, of course!". Poor Alessio, he had not just found a travel companion but also a roommate.

That morning I had woken up in complete despair, convinced my London dream was over before it began. By evening, I was sharing wine with a new friend in a tiny hostel room, both of us still unemployed but full of dreams and ready to start our British adventure.

The 29-year-old who was crying and yelling that morning had no idea that the "disaster" was actually the universe clearing the path for exactly what she needed.

Sometimes we have to leap first - get on the plane, trust the process - for the magic to unfold. And I will tell you more soon about what happened over the next few weeks.

Eighteen years later, I still live by this knowing. When everything feels like it's falling apart, I remember that synchronicities are real, and the flow often starts with what feels like an earthquake.

On May 7th 2019, I made my way from the office in Farringdon to a yoga studio down in Victoria. A good friend of mine, that for many years I have defined as my White Witch, annoying her given her Indian origins (more about her in another post as she was the one who held my hand to plant the very first seeds I am talking about), had told me many times to go to a sound healing session hosted by this friend of hers named Josie.

That day had been one of my usual days in the office: busy, hectic, stressful. I remember leaving just before 7 pm for a 7.30 session and thinking of what a waste of time it would have probably been. I arrived in that studio in my high heels, sceptical, impatient and judgemental of everything and everyone around me. The vibes there were calm as were the people. “Here we go, amongst a bunch of barefoot, calm weirdos who drink herbal teas and that I have nothing in common with…” was my thought, followed by “I am not this kind of person, I am busy, I do not have time for this stuff, I will get bored beyond belief, I will spend this hour planning the rest of the week and hopefully it is going to be over soon.”

Oh, now I smile at that version of me back then. She had built these high and thick walls to defend herself and this train of thoughts was part of it.

The reasons why my good friend invited me to try what I was about to try were related to my recurrent migraines (I was diagnosed with chronic migraines in 2012 after living with them pretty much all my life), to my very stressful lifestyle as a senior manager in the marketing/tech world, and to grief for a heartbreak that after three long years I was still struggling to process and overcome. My friend suggested that I tried something different from what I used to rely on up to that point, such as medications, massages, weekends away to decompress that were actually more tiring than restful, working incredibly hard as if my life depended on it.

So there I was. I even thought of walking away before going in but I rarely do that, I like giving things a try, and thank goodness I did that time.

We lay down on a mat with the support of pillows underneath the head and the legs. It was all very unknown and strange to me. Josie arrived and of course she was the queen of the barefoot and calm weirdos I had just judged a minute before. It was annoying for that impatient, always-on, quite harsh version of me to admit it but there was something incredibly ethereal about her.

She gave a brief intro talk and her voice was so calming that she was almost causing me an allergic reaction. Go, go, go was my mantra back then!

I surrendered to the fact I could not get out anymore.

The sound started. My brain was thinking about the day after and the day after again. And then within seconds my brain froze and refused to think.

“What’s going on?!? Why am I not able to think all of the sudden?!?”. The sound was piercing through my brain and through my body, not at all in a painful way, quite the opposite. My body started feeling some sensations I had never experienced before, almost like some uncontrollable reflex, similar to that feeling we can experience just before falling asleep when we are very tired and the nerves let go of the tension of the day.

I had to surrender again. This time to the sound’s effect on my whole being.

I fell asleep. I woke up when Josie was walking amongst us, with what I now know they’re called chimes, producing a more acute sound that brings you back from whatever ‘trip’ you went off to.

I looked around. Everyone was still lying down and not making a move. My instinct was to sit up and regain control of my mind and body. I kept that instinct at bay and waited for everyone else to come back slowly. “Why are they so slow?!” I thought and felt reassured that I was still very much there in the way I knew myself. I had also to acknowledge that I was feeling a deep sense of rest and tranquillity. My mind wanted so badly to understand what had just happened.

I walked out when the session was over, wore my high heels (just the thought of it now makes me laugh hysterically) and walked fast towards the tube. I then messaged my friend who had recommended me Josie. She was in India, it would have been the middle of the night. My message is below, that is why I know when exactly this happened.

I have always been a sharer (if I was not, I would not be writing this post and do what I do for living, the coaching part in particular). So over the following few days I shared my experience with friends. I still remember that I just wanted to find a logical explanation to what had happened in that yoga studio and I could not really find it.

At that point, I did not know how powerful sound is for our deep healing. I had never thought that we are energetic beings and that everything around us is energy and that sound makes that energy vibrate, moving anything that is stuck and raising our vibrations. Science supports all of this so even the most sceptical minds can get some robust explanations (and I think you understood how sceptical I was, that is why I feel the need to speak up about this). Below a post by Josie that talks about all of this much more eloquently than I could do.

For the following months, I did not find time (of course, another kind smile to that busy bee that I used to be) to go to another session with Josie, despite the benefits I got from that first one.

In February 2020, Josie organised a one day retreat for women in a dismissed church in East London. This was the first time I had attended something like that and it was full on to say the least. Everyone was sharing very private experiences of pain and grief with such openness and a sense of safety even if in the middle of a bunch of strangers. I shared mine. It seemed so trivial in comparison to many others. And here we go: I was stuck in judgement and comparison all the times and I was schizophrenically going from putting myself down to putting others down, if not explicitly - kindness was still winning luckily for me - in my head, and with a total disconnect from my heart. I cried so much that day and saw so many others crying too. It was such a release. I also remember my desperate desire, or maybe I should say attempt as I do not think it was a genuine desire, to belong to that group. It was coming from a place of scarcity, of feeling out of place, of feeling ‘behind’ and my ego wanting to play catch up and leapfrog somehow. Again, a smile to that version of me who did not know what journey would have come next, with leapfrogging not being an option at any point.

Once again, I left with many queries in my mind about the day. The day after I shared my experience with two very good friends.

A couple of weeks later, COVID hit. We were all stuck. No more travelling, no more massages, no more distractions that my money - pretty good at that stage - could buy.

And then I discovered that sound, vibrations and energy travel beyond space, making it possible for Josie to open up her offerings in Zoom. That was a life saving rope for me stuck alone in a flat in London for the first lockdown, and again I had no idea about what that would have meant for my personal journey. Josie was very generous with her offerings that were pretty frequent and kept me going, filling my incredibly empty cup at that stage.

In autumn 2020 I decided to do a 1-2-1 with Josie that I will never forget. I will not go into that details of it as it is private but I know without a doubt that the energy shift that I got through that session changed the course of my life. After that session, I started getting clarity on what was not working anymore for me and I started drawing lines that I had not been able to do up to that point. My body started to talk to me with much more clarity about when it was in a state of grace vs. dis-grace.

I had a few more group sessions with Josie before she had her beautiful baby in January 2021 and she took a pause from it all.

The path had been paved.

I could now start walking ahead on my own, with a knowing that there was something much bigger than us, with a curiosity that was making me discover other healers, other disciplines, other approaches, all different but also all compatible.

Thanks to Josie, I had crossed that threshold that was keeping me stuck in a 3D world that had become claustrophobic, meaningless, narrow, tight, even hopeless at points. It was the very beginning of my journey that will never end till there is breath. I was healing at points slowly, at others fast, and while doing so I was taking big life decisions such as leaving a career that had given me so much but had also taken so much from me (I let it, it is no one’s fault), starting new relationships after THE heartbreak, taking reiki I and II and becoming a reiki practitioner myself (Josie is an angelic reiki master) and, yes, also starting The Dots Connect.

This post came from following the breadcrumb on my path.

Today, after a long time of no interaction with Josie, I took a 40 minute-sound healing journey with her (here for purchase if you fancy trying), that she has recorded recently and that is available to buy online for just £14. It will be available to you for a lifetime and part of the fee will be donated to a fundraise for Gaza. Needless to say it was absolutely magical. I messaged her to say thank you and then the lightbulb went on: I always tell this story of initiation to people when I have the chance. Why not doing so in a written format?

Also, this is another seed that I am planting for The Dots Connect’s future. This time I have awareness of the planting. I intend to water it but I do not intend to get attached to the outcome. We shall see how it evolves. I trust. "If there is one thing I've learned from all this journey is that we have no reason not to trust.

You can find Josie here on her channels:

• Website

• Instagram

If you want to talk to me first about my experience and get more information through me, please message me and I will be very happy to do so.

Over the next few weeks/months I would like to talk more openly about all the things/people/disciplines who have contributed to my journey. It is a way to honour my journey and all the contributors. In some cases they are people I got the opportunity to meet in person, like with Josie. In some others they are people that I look up to and that through their books, podcasts, work, shares have contributed hugely to shape my way forward.

Picture 1 - My message to my friend who recommended Josie to me as soon as I got out of the session.

Picture 2 - A recent Instagram post by Josie who talks about the power of sound healing as I referred in my post.

I sent an enquiry in response to a post on a Facebook page, without much expectation, and I was chosen amongst many others who applied (which of course, first flattered my ego a little bit, and then I acknowledged that this must have happened for a very good reason that would have somehow served me).

“Three weeks of responsibility and commitment towards another living creature who is likely to have needs and expectations, am I sure I’m ready for this?” is what I thought when they confirmed I was their first choice. By the way, if you were in doubt, clearly now you understand why it is a good thing I do not have children…

Anyhow, I have been handling this cat-sitting quite successfully so far I think. I’m enjoying it hugely, not just because it is fun and very rewarding but because it has been such an unexpected learning opportunity.

But let’s pause a second: how do I define this experience being successful?

Well, firstly, the cat is still alive. And not just that, she is lively, lovely and loving, which is very important because alive, depressed and angry would not be good enough. She follows me around, miaows to me constantly and I speak back to her all the time in both English and Italian - in case you’re wondering, her humans also speak to her in both languages, I am not trying to be a Duolingo for cats! We have established a solid friendship, I think, after the need to build trust in each other the very first few days.

“Will she starve me?” she thought when she met me first.

“Will she scratch my eyes out at night?” I thought when I met her first.

Neither of those have happened yet and I strongly believe they will not happen. We both could do both things easily - the starving and the scratching - but we trust each other and it seems like we really like each other, so that’s enough to stop us from even considering those two as options against each other.

So yes, success in this situation is a happy, healthy, energetic, playful cat and a happy me who feels absolutely in love with this four-legged creature - to the point that I apologise to her when I go out and leave her alone for a few hours.

Oh and her humans also seem to be happy with my communications skills to inform them regularly about her state of well-being. And, not unimportantly, their house is clean, neither flooded or burnt down, and that also seems to be a measure of success in this commitment I took.

Now, let’s go back to the original purpose that made me start writing this in the first place: the learnings I’m gaining from my furry companion.

Her name is Rheia by the way which means ‘to flow’ in ancient Greek. This is a great synchronicity given that I am well known by family and friends for obsessing about flowing in life, a way of being that I embraced in particular over the last three years since leaving my traditional career. At the time, I even opened an Instagram account called Simply Flowing. So now being here with this cat whose name means flow seems pretty on point.

But back to the learnings, in no particular order:

• An energised, lively grace. Rheia is delicate and graceful in the way she interacts with me and her surroundings. At the same time, she brings an energy and aliveness to everything she does, in her moves, her looks, her being vocal and expressive. If my feet are out of the duvet, she touches them with her paws and nails to attract my attention and she does so with a grace that is commendable and absolutely impressive. She embodies the ability to be soft and energetic at the same time, without compromising one for the other.

• Cheeky, playful boundaries. Rheia loves to play with her boxes, with a random fly, by climbing the fence, jumping off windows or simply by running up and down the corridor. She also knows how to ask for a cuddle by jumping on the bed in the morning or in the middle of the night - yes, she does that which is sweet and funny but also exhausting after a few nights in a row - to purr into my ears and make biscuits on my chest. And then she knows perfectly when it is time to stop interacting, playing and purring. That is when she walks away with dignity and elegance, resetting very clearly her boundaries which scream unapologetically “Enough, now time for a nap/solitude/food”.

• The balance of rest and activity. Rheia knows when it is time to rest her body and mind and it does not matter what time of the day/night that is: she tunes into her little body’s needs and she fulfils them without having second thoughts about that being right or wrong: it just is what she needs at that point in time.

• The balanced combo of following and leading. Rheia follows me pretty much everywhere I go. She is black and she literally becomes a little shadow behind my feet who is always there when I turn around - this applies when she is awake but, as every cat, she sleeps a lot so she is never an oppressive and obsessive presence. At the same time, she perfectly knows when to take the lead because her needs say so which leads me to the next point.

• Express her needs with clarity and conviction. Rheia is better than many humans to express herself. After just a few days of me being here, I knew when she was miaowing because she wanted fresh food, or the door to be open or access to the litter or simply for the desire to wake me up because “It’s about time, come on !”.

• Build trust over time and show that progress is being made. I’ve been learning from Rheia that trust comes from consistent, timely actions rather than words and that once those actions speak by themselves it’s right to acknowledge and somehow reward them by showing an increase in trust you’re giving back. She has shown me her growing trust through actions herself: from being much more cuddly, to touching my nose with hers, to sleeping all night long on the bed with me. I can see how our trust in each other has been on a journey of growth.

• Anger is a flowing state that needs no revenge - at least not for too long. Rheia has got offended with me a couple of times when I’ve left her alone for a bit longer than normal. The first time she could not know that I was about to do so. I noticed her frustration with me on my return. She ignored me for a while. Upon my apologies - yes, really, I know! - and an offer of truce through food and cuddles, she forgave me pretty swiftly. The second time, she knew I was about to do the same. She saw me closing the garden door and all windows when it was still light outside and she saw me dressed differently. She knocked down everything I had left on the little coffee table by the sofa. I noticed her casual, passive aggressive attitude after doing so which was almost the analogy of filing her nails. I left worried of what might have happened in my absence but nothing happened. And once back, upon another apology, food and cuddles once again forgiveness followed very quickly.

Rheia is showing me that many things can co-exist at the same time.

She is showing me the ease of living in the present, simply flowing.

She is showing me that autonomy can be maintained even when you need someone else to do something for you and that asking is a skill to not be ashamed of.

She is showing that playfulness can be followed by seriousness and the two can even co-exist.

She is showing (off) her elegance and agility at every step and jump.

She is showing me her ability to self-regulate body needs and reactions.

She is showing me the importance of being expressive and knowing your needs and wants.

Rheia is a walking yin and yang - she literally has a few white, spiky hair in her otherwise velvety black livery. I am in absolute adoration of this creature and I think she is the only boss I have ever had who got me to do what she wants with me not threatening to resign tomorrow.

I had been off work for 7 months, recovering from burnout and trying to reinvent myself. I'd just realised this journey would take much longer than I'd anticipated. Fear started to kick in. What am I going to do? What if I had made the wrong move?

Deep down I knew it was all part of the process. On the surface, the waves were violent.

Within the same week, unexpectedly, everything shifted. I got hired for a short consulting gig and headhunted for a job that looked great on paper. I undertook them both with commitment, and they both paid off in terms of outcome.

But the headhunter wasn't 'just' a headhunter. She was someone competent, with coaching skills, able to see beyond my skills, expertise and verbal commitment. She updated me on the process going well, and then she asked me with an honesty I will never forget:

"Do you really want this job? Is this really what you see yourself as in the future?"

The penny dropped.

No, it was not. It was exactly what I had walked away from a few months before, leaving behind status, money, connections. Going back to something like that would have been the biggest mistake—or better, the biggest missed opportunity for something much more aligned that I simply didn't have visibility of yet.

I tapped into trust. Trust in myself and in the unknown. The morning after, I declined the final interview.

Half an hour later, still in my bed, I was registering the domain of my first Limited Company: The Dots Connect.

My plan was to handle the type of consulting work I'd been commissioned to do the week before. Not enjoyable but well-paid, and it was what I knew how to do. Now, I smile at that naive and fearful version of myself. The universe had more aligned plans for me and The Dots Connect. And I know its plans are still in the making for us both.

I have stopped long ago trying to push and chase. My journey is a journey of slow unfolding after years of rapid and aggressive chasing for the next thing. When I chose to embrace this new pace, everything started falling into place.

My view of success had stayed static for 20 years. Over the last 3, it has evolved numerous times with three major shifts. A new exciting evolution is on the horizon. I can feel it in my belly, chest, throat, head.

In July 2025, I finally pushed live a first version of the website. It was the outcome of an unexpected 7 hours of focused work, started in a pub, continued in a Turkish restaurant, and ended at a friend's place. It offers an imperfect and authentic picture of what I offer because it reflects what I believe I'm good at. This belief isn't coming just from external evidence but from an inner, aligned knowing.

So, The Dots Connect is me. I'm The Dots Connect. For now, we overlap. This might stay, this might evolve. Who knows.

The present is what matters.

And on this point, I close by sharing an inspiring podcast that I listened to just yesterday: On Purpose with Jay Shetty, talking for two hours with Novak Djokovic. To the question ‘What is the best advice you have ever received?’ Djokovic’s answer was:

“Learn from the past.

Live in the present.

Work for the future.”

For me, this connection runs deeper: my life on this planet began in September, so each year completes a full personal cycle.

There's something beautifully practical about September as a reset point:

Less pressure.

Better weather.

Less post-holiday detox (at least in theory).

A clear milestone, Christmas, still on the horizon.

Enough months behind us to reflect on, and enough months ahead to act upon.

September feels like that crucial sprint two-thirds through a larger project. There's still time to course-correct if needed, but also genuine opportunity to raise the bar and exceed expectations, preferably on quality rather than quantity.

To harness September's potential, we can approach it like an agile retrospective, examining three critical dimensions:

Past: honest and self-compassionate reflection

• How do I feel about the last eight months?

• Which parts felt energising versus draining?

• What am I most proud of?

• Is there shame or guilt I need to face and release?

Present: deep, mindful connection

• How am I treating my body, mind, and soul?

• Am I maximising my superpowers?

• Am I living aligned with my values?

• Am I clear on my needs and wants?

• How do my relationships feel? Do I need to reconnect, apologise, or set clearer boundaries?

Future: clear and committed conviction

• If I could achieve three things by December, what would they be?

• What's the next key step to make that happen?

• What's blocking me from taking action?

• How do I want to feel by year's end?

The Power of Curiosity

Here's what I've learned: the magic isn't in the questions themselves, but in how we approach them. Lead with curiosity rather than judgment. Replace anxiety and overwhelm with genuine wonder about your own journey.

When we examine our past, present, and future through the lens of curiosity, we naturally ask better questions, ones that lead to answers that actually matter to us.

Your September Word

One practice I treasure is choosing a monthly north star word. This September, "marvellous" arrived loudly in my mind during morning reflection. I love exploring etymology, and "marvellous" originally meant "causing wonder," "having characteristics of a miracle," and "being splendid."

I'm staying open to my September being marvellous in all these ways: full of wonder, touched by the miraculous, undeniably splendid.

What word wants to guide your September? Listen closely, it might surprise you.

The picture I am using was taken on September 1st 2024, exactly a year ago, at my family home in the North of Italy. I am choosing it not only because of the date it was taken but because it represents clarity, hope, connection and overall it represents the sweet-spot of past, present and future.

I tend to check words' etymology when I want to expand (ha) on th

em for work and in life: 1610s, "anything spread out;" 1640s, "act of expanding," from French expansion, from Late Latin expansionem (nominative expansio) "a spreading out," noun of action from past-participle stem of Latin expandere "to spread out, unfold, expand," from ex "out" (see ex-) + pandere "to spread, stretch".

One thing stood out to me: Ex = out, from within.

That simple revelation shifted something fundamental in my understanding. When I realised that true expansion literally means "from within, outward," it completely changed how I see it. I set aside the mainstream connotation of this word that to me screams far too often 'overpowering others' and went back to its origins. Expansion comes from within 💡

Expanding our gifts and talents.

Expanding our deepest soul desires.

Expanding our thoughts.

Expanding our emotions.

Expanding our roots and branches.

Expanding our heart and mind.

Expanding our perspectives.

Expanding our authentic self.

Expanding our true connections.

Expanding our soul, or if you prefer, intuition.

This is the expansion I am inspired by. And I had to share it for obvious, intrinsic reasons.

What's your path of expansion? As a person or as a business? Is it coming from within?

Are you trying to expand towards a direction that is not true to yourself?

If you do, you enter what I call the "power game”, that exhausting cycle where growth becomes about domination, competition, and proving worth through external metrics. This kind of expansion drains both us and those around us because it's built on scarcity thinking and the need to take from others to feel bigger. It's expansion as conquest rather than expansion as blossoming.

But if you expand from your most authentic core - if you let your truest self unfold naturally outward - you become unstoppable in the most beautiful way. This kind of expansion creates abundance rather than scarcity, connection rather than competition.

How exciting is that?

Picture of a dramatic sunset in the North of Italy, province of Varese, looking over the Alpes, Monte Rosa specifically even if behind the clouds.

Space has been a recurring theme for me lately.

The seed was planted back in January, during my annual ritual of choosing guiding words for the year ahead. One of those words was expansion.

I started noticing that when I think about space, it's not just physical — it's energetic. That’s when I found Martha Beck’s podcast, The Gathering Room. Martha is someone I’ve admired for years and her podcasts are a great reminder and addition to her groundbreaking books.

In each episode, Martha leads a short meditation, often guiding us to visualise the space between our eyes, the space from the top of our head to the base of our spine, and even the space inside our atoms — the vastness within us.

It’s a surprisingly powerful practice. It shifts my attention from the density of matter to the lightness of energy. It reminds me that we are not just solid forms — we are spacious, fluid, dynamic, alive beings.

That idea of tuning into the invisible — into energy — wasn’t new to me. I had started experiencing it years earlier when I started practicing daily yoga and I first began feeling this kind of energy . The awareness deepened with my Reiki I attunement, and even more with Reiki II.

Now, there are moments when energy radiates from my hands without me doing anything at all. It simply is.

It feels like an extraordinary expansion — a spacious, boundless superpower that I haven’t trained or earned, but rather noticed, welcomed, and allowed.

I say allowed because, at first, it felt strange. And when something feels strange, we often shut it down. But I chose instead to lean in — to accept it.

Space => Energy.
That’s where I’ve arrived so far.
Let’s keep going.

Energy creates.
Energy is generative.
From energy, creativity is born.

Space => Energy => Creativity.

But creativity is often misunderstood — and maybe even idealised.
Many people think creativity only belongs to the traditional arts: painting, writing, sculpting, making music.

Of course, it can be those things — but it’s also much more, and much less.

Creativity lives in the everyday.

Rick Rubin speaks to this beautifully in The Creative Act: A Way of Being.

“We tend to think of the artist’s work as the output. The real work of the artist

is a way of being in the world.”

And again:

“Think of the universe as an eternal creative unfolding.

Trees blossom. Cells replicate. Rivers forge new tributaries.

The world pulses with productive energy, and everything that exists on this planet is driven by that energy.

Every manifestation of this unfolding is doing its own work on behalf of the universe, each in its own way, true to its own creative impulse.”

We are all creators, all the time. We create simply by living and choosing.
The quality of our creation depends on how connected we are to our highest (or deepest) truth. If we create from fear, disconnection, or conditioning, our creations reflect that. They feel small, tight, anxious. They lack freedom.

But when we make space — inside us and around us — we begin to reconnect with who we really are. And in doing so, we awaken something essential.

We hear our own voice.
We meet our true needs, desires, and longings — not the ones imposed by culture, family, or fear.

Space => Energy => Creativity => Freedom.

I started with a sentence on a walk — freedom starts with space. But now I see it more clearly: when we create space, we tap into our energy. That energy becomes creation. And creation — honest, aligned, soul-fuelled creation — is what sets us free. The more space we make for ourselves, the freer we become.

So — space from what?

Space from obligations. From false needs and inherited desires. From clutter — mental and material.

Space from people and places that no longer align. From back-to-back activities, and the pressure to do more.

Space in the breath. In the body. In the silence we too often rush past.

These are thoughts from a quiet walk, a quiet season, and a heart learning to listen more deeply. I don’t have all the answers — but I do know this:

Freedom begins the moment we choose to make space.

And from there, everything opens.

Picture: this was my view while writing this piece: the blue water of Lake Monate and the blue sky are separated by a thin, green strip of land. A floating duck stopped by and stared at me for a while.

Whether I’m walking or driving, all of a sudden I see what’s around me with a striking clarity I didn’t have before.

Just this morning, while driving, this was my inner dialogue:
“Look at that tree.
Wow, look at the different greens all those trees bring together.
Look at the beauty of the light.
Wow, look at that mountain full of snow.”

These aren’t new places. I grew up here. They’ve stayed pretty much the same for the past five decades. It’s me who has changed.

I’ve always been a keen observer. In the early days of Facebook, I used to love writing posts with a humorous spin on the small things I noticed. I’ve always had an eye for the little corners of the world that beg to be captured — images that speak to me on a deep, quiet level.

But lately, that ability has amplified. Everything feels more vivid than before. Which is funny, really — because in terms of eyesight, I’ve never been blinder!

I see textures.
I see colours.
I see shapes.
I see gestures.
I see expressions.
I see emotions.
I see souls.
I see Beauty.

I used to think this was just the way I was. But now I know it’s a gift. A superpower. And the more aligned I am with myself, the more it grows.

Today is my dad’s 77th birthday.

A couple of days ago, he asked me if I’d taken a picture of the stunning fuchsia rhododendron flowers scattered on the grass after the heavy rain. I hadn’t.

This morning, as we were driving back together after breakfast, admiring the trees and the snow-covered mountains, I was also wondering what to get him as a gift. I hadn’t thought of anything — we’d just celebrated my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, and my focus had been there. Nothing was inspiring me.

Then, as we drove through the gate back home, I saw the flowers.
I knew exactly what to do.

I stepped out, gathered them into a basket, and created the arrangement you can see below. I placed it on the dining table and chose the crockery to match.

I turned simplicity into Beauty.
Those flowers were dead on the ground — and now, they’re a marvel to admire.

Friends dropped by to wish him happy birthday, and every person who walked in said the same thing: “Wow, this is stunning.”
It didn’t cost a penny.

These rhododendrons were planted by my beloved grandpa when I was a child. Today, they are majestic trees. And they still find their way into the house, gifting us with joy and beauty.

Beauty is a never-ending source of more beauty.
By seeing it, we create more of it — without even realising.
But we’re not creating it from ourselves.
We become creators when we let our higher spirit lead the way — when we quiet the analytical brain and listen to something deeper.

I could have headed to the shops and bought a pricey, soulless gift.
Instead, I brought Beauty home in the simplest of ways.

Thank you for reading. I hope this little story reminds you to look again at the familiar, to see what’s always been there — waiting quietly to be noticed.

Beauty is never far. We just have to be open enough to meet it.

No man has ever faced this level of backlash for launching himself into orbit. But these women? The heat they’ve caught has been brutal — and, I believe, deeply revealing.

The outrage around this mission is louder, more vicious, and more chaotic than any I’ve seen in similar situations involving men. Why? Because, at a deep and largely unspoken level, society still believes that women aren’t supposed to play this big.

We expect women to be considerate. To be compassionate. Humble. Measured. Nurturing. We don’t expect them to take up space — literally or metaphorically. And when they do, it activates something raw and ancient in the collective psyche.

This isn’t just about a PR stunt in zero gravity. This is about gender, power, permission, and projection.

Women are not allowed to mess up. When we do, we are burned — by flames, by opinion, by gossip, by cancellation. These days, the flames come via headlines and hashtags. But they burn just the same.

Now, let me be clear: I’m not celebrating this mission.

In fact, I strongly disagree with it. I find it ethically questionable, environmentally insane, and yes, overall just absurd. But disagreement doesn’t mean we pretend the people involved are one-dimensional or forget the good they’ve done.

Some of these women have made real, tangible contributions to society.

I am not talking about Katie Perry.

And I am not interested in knowing much about Sànchez - unless I find out one day that she intends to redeem Bezos and make him a real philanthropist or even just a decent employer who does not exploit people to keep piling up billions (watch Nomadland if you haven’t yet).

Amanda Nguyen is a powerhouse activist and a sexual assault survivor who’s played a pivotal role in rewriting laws to protect other survivors.

Gayle King has spent decades championing philanthropic causes and amplifying underrepresented voices with integrity and care.

Aisha Bowe is an aerospace engineer. This wasn’t a joyride for her — it was literally part of her profession.

Yet the headlines focus only on the two most clickable names, flattening a nuanced story into clickbait. The media machine isn’t just lazy — it’s fuelled by the desire to feed the beast: the screaming, outraged public. And successful women? They’re one of the beast’s favorite foods.

Yes, women can do better than this. We should do better. Because mimicking the worst behaviours of men in power — in politics, business, tech, or space — will only sustain the systems many of us are fighting to dismantle.

But here’s the thing: we’re all human. We make mistakes. And when high-profile women screw up, those mistakes get blown up on a massive scale. That’s not accountability — that’s spectacle.

I’ll admit it: I used to be a very judgmental b**ch. I still have some of those sharp edges. But I’m also doing the work to widen my lens. To pause. To ask better questions. Because when something triggers us that much, we owe it to ourselves to look inward.

Why are we so angry at these six women?

What part of us feels so threatened and triggered by their choice?

Are we seeing in them a reflection of something we’ve done — but on a smaller, less visible scale?

Or have they dared to do something we secretly long to do ourselves — something bold, unapologetic, and terrifying — and we resent them for having the audacity?

This isn’t a defense of billionaires or brand-sponsored space travel. It’s a call for nuance. A reminder that not everything is black and white. It’s a call for compassion and self-compassion. It’s a call for pausing and taking a breath rather than jumping in loudly as everyone else.

And it is a reminder that when our reactions are intense, it’s often not just about them.

It’s about us.

For years, I chased work-life balance like it was the holy grail of fulfilment. Spoiler: I never found it.

Not because I didn’t try—but because, in hindsight, I was chasing the wrong thing. What I really needed wasn’t separation between work and life. I needed alignment. Integration. Meaning.

This is a reflection on how I came to understand that—and why I believe not everyone is wired for "balance" in the traditional sense.

Many people are desperately chasing work-life balance.

I’ve tried several times to reach that balance and noticed that, rather than adding to my life, it subtracted from it. This led me to a personal, experience-based conclusion: work-life balance does not work for me—at least not in the traditional sense.

I’ve always given my absolute all to any professional endeavour, regardless of what it was. My commitment gave me a lot, and it also took a lot away.

Performance has certainly been one of my key drivers—for better or worse—combined with an intrinsic, innate quality I can only describe in one word: passion.

My passion is not fuelled by anything external; it comes from within me, gushing out spontaneously. It took me a long time to understand this and to figure out what to do with it.

For many years, I felt less than others because I couldn't find my passion out there, while everyone else seemed to have theirs. But there was nothing to worry about (rarely is there, really).

What I thought was lacking turned out to be my greatest strength—it just needed to be noticed and acknowledged, which eventually happened.

Given this foundation, my professional choices were guided, to say the least, by a great deal of luck. I could have ended up in a far less interesting and rewarding field, considering my short—but passionate—experiences as a hairdresser, a real estate agent, and an event hostess.

Instead, thanks to a series of fortunate and serendipitous circumstances, I ended up working in marketing and communications in creative agencies—a stimulating industry rooted in creativity, design, human psychology, sociology, and close collaboration among people who often become woven into each other’s lives.

The sector I found myself in allowed me to maximise all of my top strengths. But more than anything, it allowed me to be my authentic self—which happens to be both my greatest strength and one of my core values.

Authenticity, along with passion, is why traditional work-life balance isn’t achievable for me. I don’t see work as something separate from myself. I am who I am, and work is just one slice of that whole—intertwined with everything else.

That’s why the work I do needs to be meaningful in every aspect: its why, what, how, and where.

I need a seamless integration of life and work, because it's in that interconnection that I thrive—as a person, a professional, a friend, a daughter, and a partner.

It took me years of confusion, frustration, burnout, anger, chronic illness, and even a sense of helplessness to accept, acknowledge, and understand this truth—and to begin building a life in full alignment with the way I am wired.

I share this not as a prescription—but as a personal reflection and as an invitation. We’re all wired differently. Some people need clear boundaries. Others need fluidity. The real question is: what makes you come alive?

Have you ever felt like the whole "balance" thing just doesn’t work for you either? I’d love to hear your take—reply, comment, or just reflect on it with me.

Picture: Sunrise in North London where I live. The sun and nature bring me into balance.