Yesterday I held my first ever Somatics workshop in my home town in South Wales.

It still feels like it’s moving through me – something ancient, something I didn’t plan but just allowed to unfold.

It wasn’t about teaching or performing what I know – it was about a group of women slowing down enough to listen to the quiet language of the body that most of us have learned to ignore.

For so long, I lived from the neck up.
Performing.
Proving.
Trying to be the “right kind” of woman.
Somewhere along the way, I got disconnected from the deeper knowing that lives beneath all that noise.

Patriarchy isn’t just an idea or a system ‘out there’ – it’s something that has lived inside us.  It’s in our nervous systems – in the pace we move, in the way we breathe (or hold our breath).  It’s in the pressure to keep going, to keep smiling, to keep serving.

It’s in the way so many of us were taught to treat our bodies like problems to fix, rather than places to come home to.

This work isn’t about dividing men and women, because men are affected by Patriarchy too.  It’s about unplugging from the old paradigm – the one that tells us that our power was dangerous, our emotions were too much, and our bodies couldn’t be trusted.

But what if the body is holy?  What if the blood, the softness, the rage, the exhaustion – what if all of it is wisdom?

In the workshop, something powerful happened.
We released a sacred roar.
It wasn’t pretty or controlled.
It was raw, real, and full of truth.

We roared for the women who have been silenced.
For the bodies that have been shamed.
For the parts of us that had to harden to survive.
We roared because we’re finally coming home – to ourselves, to our bodies, to each other.

And in that moment, it felt like the earth was roaring with us.

We breathed.
We shook.
We cried.
We remembered what it feels like to belong to ourselves again.

I’ve since realised – this work isn’t new.
It’s ancient.
It’s older than the systems that told us to be small.
It’s older than the stories that said divinity only lives above the clouds or on a mountain top.

This remembering – this coming home – lives in us.
In our bones, our wombs, our tears, our sound.

The body knows.
It always did.