Working as a nomad for HSP's

Where do I begin? I’m sitting in Madrid, in my brand-new hostel by a big window, overlooking a busy crossing. I feel alive. I’ve escaped Busot. Finally made it to Madrid — not just the city, but this moment in my life. And I feel free. It reminds me of that time I took a bus out of Orbost headed for Sydney, guided only by the stars. This time, it wasn’t the stars — but a beautiful moment of connection. A game of chess with a stranger on the train from Alicante to Madrid. That morning started with being dropped off at the station by my host’s ex-boyfriend. C had flown back home — her mother was ill and in the hospital. After she left, I had the house to myself for one day. Then the ex returned, and with him, the heavy energy came back too. TV. Stagnation. I felt the fog, the weight of not-moving, even as everything around me shifted. But I moved anyway. Torn between going to Finland and facing a dynamic with my own ex… or heading to Asturias (why did no one ever tell me how beautiful it...

I walked out after checking into my pod hostel in Madrid — tired, hungry, and craving a soul food hamburger. But I didn’t want chain food. So I passed the Burger King and McDonald’s on the main road and kept walking. Looking around at the smaller shops, I spotted a place called Dumpling King. It looked fun, so I headed over. But inside, it was a scattered hall with big random tables. It felt chaotic. I turned to leave. Then the man shouted, “Ni Hao!” I paused. “One table, please,” I said. He looked confused — not used to solo guests — but cleared a spot for me at the front table. It was messy, disorganized. Familiar. I plugged in my charger. It reminded me of home in Suriname — not neat, but real. Two little boys were running around, eating food off the floor, brushing too close to my space while I watched a video on manifesting wealth — how to focus my energy after the rush. As I ate and watched, I centered myself. I started dreaming. A down payment on my Harley 900cc — €160K. Could I...

Learning to Trust the Bark There’s a huge Rottweiler that keeps us company here at C’s house. He’s a character—moody with strangers, hilarious with me. When someone walks by on the street, his whole face goes dark, like thunderclouds behind his eyes. But the moment I jump in the pool, he lights up. Starts sprinting laps around the water like a possessed guardian angel. He’s teaching me something, I know. At first, I was unsure. His bark is loud. He shows his teeth. He even charges at me as I’m climbing out of the water. But slowly, I’ve come to understand: his bark is just his voice. His teeth—just present. Not a threat. And his running? It’s pure excitement. A dance. When I step outside the pool, wet and fresh, he comes toward me with full enthusiasm— and instead of biting, he nudges me lovingly with his head. It’s all him. Dog. Honest. Unapologetic. And in that, I learn: Don’t project fear. Stay calm in the presence of power. Let others have their bark—but don’t lose your center. New...

  The Boy Inside the Man Many men carry unresolved stories from boyhood. The boy who was never allowed to cry. The boy who had to become the emotional caretaker of his mother. The boy who grew into a man still yearning to be held but not knowing how to ask. In this silent pain, many have forgotten how to be. As a woman, I’ve been both receiver and reflector of this energy. Some lovers entered my life as  portals . Their sexuality awakened me—yes—but so did their  presence . They didn’t just take—they saw. Not all were ready to hold me, but they each revealed something I needed to remember. “Love, for me, began in the barren spaces of my childhood— watching soccer with my father on Sundays, hoping to be seen, hungering for warmth. That hunger shaped the woman I became.” Through my body, I healed.  Through intimacy, I began to remember that sex could be sacred. 🌙 Sacred Sexuality In many spiritual spaces, sexuality is not allowed as we want sacredness between souls....

  A Journey into Sensuality, Intimacy & the Sacred Feminine Mirror There’s a quiet ache in many men I meet—a longing to feel, to be seen, to touch life not through performance but presence. Performance Over Being In corporate arenas and relationships alike, many men have been trained to  perform . To prove worth through action. To provide, protect, and achieve— but rarely to receive, feel, or rest in their own emotional truth. “Before I was even in the door, he was already performing. Desperate to prove his worth, Afraid to just sit down and talk. As if the value of a man was in how well he performed—not who he truly is.” This story is not about shaming masculinity—it’s about freeing it. In this  series on male sexuality we will look into blocks that disfigure male sexual energy.  Through paying attention we will guide you back to your authentic self, where sexual energy is as much a flow as the rest of your life energy.  Follow these posts here or on substa...

 The many forms of me  I met my inner child again in 2004. She was waiting—tender, shy, observant— buried beneath years of performance and pain. In 2006, I found the divine. God walked beside me that year. I lived in practiced devotion— spiritual rituals became my breath and food. Then came 2007. I left the familiar. Journeyed to wild lands, and dared to become what no one else had the courage to embrace: myself, unmasked. I returned. To Rotterdam. To volunteer work. To myself. To choices that felt true— not those society handed me. It became a path of awareness, a shedding of what was never mine to carry. Two decades of clearing. Generations of feminine trauma slowly released from my body, my sight, my soul. 2012:  The marriage. An lightning path to salvation from poverty and pain - sometimes wrapped in love. A soul contract—yes— to help each other feel again. To feel  worthy . He saw my spirit—truly saw— but couldn’t hold it without breaking. Ego’s shame blurred hi...