My journey began in secret, by the light of an owl-shaped torch. It was there, under the covers of my bed at 8 years old, that I studied ‘The Magical Art of Belly Dancing’. With every mysterious page, I knew I wanted more of this body and soul magic. It just felt instinctively good to me.
At 11, I found myself locked up in a boarding school for missionary daughters and felt like I’d stepped straight onto the set of a BBC period drama. From that moment, I determined that if I had to serve time, then time would most definitely serve me. Waiting patiently for the warders to drop their guard, I studied science and literature, wrote poetry, embroidered a wall-hanging covered in snakes, played the cello, and sang in the choir.
I learnt to balance the austerity of boarding school life and the sometimes random punishments (in my case, almost always for talking after lights out) by secretly practising yoga, choreographing dance steps for my classmates like we were all auditioning for ‘Fame’, jumping out of high-storey windows and tiptoe-ing down fire escapes to meet my friends under the stars. The education was good but the regime didn’t work. I still talk after lights out!
As a university student, I divided my time between a French & Scandinavian degree, yoga… and Go Go dancing. Communication in any language, plus yoga and dance, felt like the perfect combo to me. I ended up with a Double Honours degree. However, my ‘table entertainment’ days were tragically cut short when my hair got caught in a ceiling fan and the Turkish owner of the lounge club had to cut me down with his boot knife. I was politely asked never to return.
I had more badges on the sleeve of my Brownie guide uniform than an old salty sea-dog has tattoos. Think this early start in garnering accreditation set me down a path of building my whole life like I was shaping my C.V. Over the years that followed, I slowly learned to make my choices by the ‘oughts’ and ‘shoulds’. And less and less by what sparked joy in me.
A career in publishing began well. I was good at it and I was driven. As I moved higher up the corporate ladder, the hours got longer, the stress levels higher but I was laser-focused on success. With each passing year, I received more money, more accolades. By the time I reached my dream job as Group Publicity Director, at the top of my chosen profession, I’d just turned 30 and I was inching closer to burnout. I just didn’t know it yet.
In the midst of proposed company mergers and the breakup of my first marriage, my body sent me a message I could no longer ignore: I got stress-related shingles. I’d somehow built a life that brought me less and less joy and the pace of it was relentless. I missed the carefree, all-feeling, all-dancing girl I’d always been and wanted her back. And I wanted time to stop and smell the roses in between.
I gave up my successful corporate career to follow my heart’s desire. Left the company car, regular pay check and glitzy London, New York and Sydney parties far behind and retrained as a Pilates and yoga teacher. Without doubt, the best move I ever made. That and moving out of the city, closer to nature, finally brought me the happiness and peace I desired.
