I GO! …Somewhere else.
Temporarily making space for other projects.
I’m momentarily pausing the weekly publishing of my beloved newsletter - my serendipitous reflections from the road, written between airports, continents, emotions and encounters - to devote myself to a larger project.
One that will address an urgent question:
What would our world look like if feminine power and authority were restored to their rightful place? If we had 50/50 political, financial, diplomatic, cultural, academic, spiritual leadership across the world? If we ALL, men and women, fully reconnected with the feminine principle?
This will demand my full attention for a while.
In the meantime, I’m republishing one of my own favourite editions, the one I most hesitated to share because it is so raw and personal, yet the one that most resonated with you - a meditation on the sensuality of expectation, and the beauty of the “in-between.”
Celebrating the In-between
Before I GO!, again, to a land of silk, pomegranate and caravans, some stillness.
And a question, as well as a feeling: What if life’s richest, most affirming, moments were not the milestones, but the thresholds?
The Liminal spaces, full of maybe?
Autumn. Late teens. The airport lounge. Getting dressed for a party. The heavy seconds prior to stepping on stage.
All “before” moments, filled with exquisite anticipation.
Promises. Possibilities.
The romance of being en route.
Jetlag, empty hotel bars in Tokyo.
A hush. A breath held. Words never said, nor heard. Lives never lived. The sacred in-between of possibilities.
Foreglow.
The excitement of what could be.
A Delectable Pause
This week, not chasing the next city, or insight, I leaned into the soft spaces between.
The quieter time between assignments. The hush between flights.
The pause between who I am and who I need to be next.
A slow return to the still.
The quiet rituals.
A slow breakfast. A long hug. A phone off. A window open.
A lit candle. That Tricky song. A cup of coffee, outside, in the crisp morning hue.
The tweet of the Spring birds, in my lush London haven.
The scent of musky essence in my office, treetops in bloom, skyscrapers afar,
Soothing and studious sights.
Clamours of children playfight and laughter.
A dip at dusk, goosebumps, cold air, tub bubbles.
Reconnect with the sacred: Presence.
I’ve always loved the in-between and just before.
That sliver of stolen time.
A flick of eyeliner, a favourite track, a glass of wine, the pulse of anticipation.
A window seat and a boarding pass …
In these spaces, I am untethered and alive.
This week I GO! invites you to pause, to be present, to trust the next moment will….
Reveal.
Surprise.
Stretch.
Gift you with an insight that will shift the course—irreversibly.
Travelling to Meet Oneself
What I love most about travelling isn’t the destination—it’s the anticipation, then the dislocation. The thrill of the unfamiliar, your usual coordinates gone, so you get to meet yourself again. In these moments—between departure and arrival, intention and outcome—my brain travels…
Dreams I didn’t know I had.
The infinite possibilities of life.
That shared human experience.
How fleeting it all is.
Jung’s Fertile Thresholds
In our life journey—that of individuation, as Carl Jung framed it—these moments of liminality are not peripheral, but essential.
They’re the fertile thresholds inviting us—or forcing us—to face the unknown, to confront the hidden or neglected parts of ourselves, and to emerge, not as someone new, but as someone more whole.
It is in the in-between—not in moments of certainty, but in periods of ambiguity—where true transformation takes root.
The tipping point of a career shift, the quiet rupture before a breakup, being 17, or the strange encounter that lingers longer than expected - psychological thresholds, where what was is no longer, and what will be has not yet arrived.
Psychologists Arnold van Gennep and Victor Turner (who built on Jung’s work) studied those rites of passage across cultures. They found that transformation—be it into adulthood, leadership, or healing—always involves a liminal phase: a suspension of identity, where old roles are stripped away, and a new sense of self begins to form.
Modern neuroscience echoes this: research shows that uncertainty and unfamiliarity can stimulate neuroplasticity—rewiring the brain, allowing for new perspectives, creative leaps, and adaptive growth.
Jung himself said, “There is no coming to consciousness without pain.”
In Jungian terms, liminal space is where the ego dissolves, even if briefly, where we walk through that “door” William Blake spoke of—between the known and the unknown.
And somehow, in stepping through, we become more ourselves.
Lost in Translation
Perharps, the movie that best encapsulates this concept is Sophia Coppola’s melancholic masterpiece Lost in Translation.
Because Lost in Translation isn’t just a film—it’s a feeling.
That delicate sense of wonder and estrangement when you land in a foreign city— disoriented, curious, untethered from your routine, stripped of language and familiarity, wide open to higher understanding.
Just like Scarlett Johansson’s character, Charlotte. A philosophy grad wandering through neon-lit Tokyo and temples, her identity suspended in youth and early marriage, searching for something, yearning, but for what?
As for Bill Murray’s Bob …Middle-aged. Fading stardom. Distant, disconnected marriage. He’s neither here nor there—no longer the man he was, and not yet someone new.
In that blurry space—jetlagged, misplaced, half-dreaming—he doesn’t need to be anything at all.
That final whisper in Charlotte’s ear—never revealed—is perfect liminality: a truth never told, never explained, too transient to be held.
The whole plot rests on ambiguity— not a love nor a lust story, just a soulful connection between two people suspended in liminal states.
Next week, I’ll be somewhere east of west,
Where silk whispers in the wind and pomegranates split open to reveal eternal secrets.
But for now, I’m here.
With birdsong, treetops, and soft music in the background.
With the scent of musk and the quiet hum of London in bloom.
Between roles. Between geographies. Between identities.
Liminal. And alive.