There’s a moment in every woman’s life when things slow down just enough for her to hear her own voice again.

For me, that moment came quietly, long before my mother passed away last year. And yet, her passing gave me a kind of permission I didn’t know I was waiting for. An allowance to simply be. To step into something new. I had to step up and lead in a different way, without the familiar pull of her presence shaping how I showed up or who I thought I needed to be.

Looking back, I realise the shift began while she was still alive.

It happened when she allowed me to see her vulnerable side. When she let me take care of her. When I became the one who had to make important decisions about her and, in many ways, about our life together. Something changed in that reversal. I no longer needed her to be stronger, clearer, or different. I was already stepping into my own steadiness.

Grief didn’t arrive all at once. It came in small, ordinary moments. In memories. In the way, I still caught myself talking about her, sometimes with a sharpness that surprised me. Even after believing I had let go of most of the old stories about how unsupported I felt growing up.

What changed wasn’t that those stories disappeared. It was that I started noticing them.

Last week, something simple but profound landed in my body. In ancient wisdom and in family constellation work, there’s an understanding that our growth, both personal and professional, flows more naturally when we are at peace with our relationship with our mother. Not because everything was perfect, but because we stopped fighting what was. In family constellation work, the idea isn’t about blaming anyone but about seeing how unresolved dynamics can live in us long after the original event. When these patterns are acknowledged without judgement, something softens, and we can step into life with more presence, more choice, and more clarity.

That idea asked something very real of me: to accept my mother exactly as she was. Without blame. Without judgement. Without needing to keep retelling the painful parts as proof of what I lived through.

I began paying attention to my words. Because the words we use when we speak about someone say a lot about what still lives inside us. It’s easy to believe we’ve let go until we’re speaking to someone we trust. That’s often when we hear ourselves most clearly.

I saw how easily I could slip into old language. Old stories. And how gently I could choose to release them again. Not by denying the past, but by no longer letting it lead the conversation.

Holding the truth that my mother did the best she could and that I didn’t feel supported no longer feels heavy. It feels honest. And honesty, I’m learning, creates space. Space for life to move forward without dragging the past behind it.

That honesty has become a quiet guide for me. When familiar patterns show up, in relationships, in work, in moments of self-doubt, I recognise them. I don’t panic. I don’t judge myself. I understand where they come from. And from that place, I can choose differently.

I’ve also learned to listen to others in a new way. Less personally. More openly. Remembering that so often what touches us deeply is showing us something about how we see the world, not a final truth about who we are.

This way of listening has made me want to create more from my feminine energy. It’s why I’m sharing next week my organic calendar, rooted in gardening seasons, natural rhythms, and flowers.

All this work is about becoming more real. And from that place, more grounded. More able to meet other women where they are.

A question to sit with:
When you speak about your mother or your past, do your words come from peace or from a story that still wants to be heard?

There’s no rush to answer this. Let it surface on a walk. In a quiet moment. Maybe with your hands in the soil.

In alignment with my connection with nature, the feminine and the moon, I want to share something I don’t normally do here. If you don’t follow the moon cycles, I want to remind you today starts the new moon in Capricorn. Some say it’s a turning point.

A ritual you can do before the powerful New Moon on January 25:
Find a moment in the next week where you can be uninterrupted — a morning, an evening, by a window, on a walk, or in the garden. Bring a small journal or a piece of paper.

Start by closing your eyes and taking a few slow breaths into your body. Let your mind wander to one of the stories you still carry — the words you use when you talk about your past or your relationships that seem familiar but heavy. Notice what comes up without trying to judge it or fix it.

Now, write the story down exactly as it shows up, but then gently ask yourself:
“What feeling underneath this story am I holding onto?”
Don’t rush. Let the answer arrive in a sentence or a word.

Once you have that feeling — whether it’s hurt, longing, unmet need, fear of repeating patterns, or something else — sit with it for another breath. Then softly ask yourself:
“What do I need to let go of so that space opens for what I truly want?”
You don’t have to force an answer. Just breathe and notice.

When you’re ready, fold the paper or hold it in your hands and say out loud something like:
“I acknowledge this feeling. I am releasing what no longer needs to be carried.”
Trust that this simple act — witnessed by your own breath, your own voice — begins the loosening of old tension.

At the end of April, beginning of May, I’ll be holding a small retreat created for exactly this kind of listening. A few days in nature, away from the usual noise, to support women in self-discovery, reflection, and reconnection with themselves and the land. Not to fix anything. But to gently loosen what no longer needs to be carried.

More to come soon. And because places will be limited, if you feel a quiet yes as you read this, you’re welcome to reply to this email and let me know you’d be interested in joining us.

Until next time.
With love,

Renata

▶ Something that moved me this week: A peaceful demonstration

▶ Finding the patterns in my life – this is a more pragmatic view instead of the phylosophical or spiritual ones that not everyone is open to hear