Returning on My Own Terms

A Five-Week Journey Through New Zealand: A Personal Transformation

I didn’t realise, when I booked this five-week trip to New Zealand, how profound it would be.

New Zealand has felt like home to me for over thirty years. It is a place I’ve returned to again and again, recognising myself in the land, the pace, and the wide skies. This land has witnessed many chapters of my life. It has seen versions of me across time: younger, searching, rooted, grieving, and becoming. But this visit was different. Something in me knew I wasn’t coming back as the same woman, though I could not yet know what would unfold.

“This time, I came back on my own terms.”

The last time I was here, I was carrying my husband Richard’s ashes. That journey was about endings — love, loss, and the immense tenderness of letting go. I arrived then as a grieving widow, navigating a world that no longer made sense. I was held together by ritual, nature, and breath.

Healing in the Quiet

There has been deep and quiet healing woven through these weeks. It was not dramatic or performative, but cellular. A settling. A remembering. I felt a sense that something long held in suspension was finally allowed to move. I had a couple of profoundly powerful healing sessions. They touched places that felt older than this lifetime, perhaps simply older than my conscious memory. These places were connected to life itself, to choice, and to presence.

I met friends — exactly the right ones — as if choreographed by some unseen intelligence. Things happened, not always easy things, but I was called to remain open and present. Then, an angel appeared — in human form.

A Lesson in Humanness

What this encounter revealed was not what I expected. I am very comfortable being spiritual. I can navigate complexity, hold space, track systems, and sit with grief and transformation. However, I saw more clearly than ever how frightened I am of being fully human. I struggle with letting go into my humanness, allowing someone else to support me, and not being the one who is “doing the thing.”

“I realised how used I am to being self-reliant, capable, and resourced. How unfamiliar it still feels to even entertain the idea that this doesn’t always have to be so.”

My control showed itself clearly — not harshly, just honestly. I have relied on this coping strategy, perhaps my whole life. It is both my superpower and my kryptonite. There was an intimacy in this meeting that opened me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Quietly. Gently. Without agenda.

It showed me how easy it is to underestimate a soul. We often mistake steadiness for simplicity. We confuse kindness with a lack of depth. We reduce someone to a story that keeps us safe.

“What we often fear is not intimacy itself, but the vulnerability of being fully human inside it. Of being seen. Of being affected. Of letting something real move us without knowing where it might lead.”

I noticed my own reflexes — the subtle judgments that protect me, the places where I hold myself back. Then I felt what happens when those soften: how the body opens, how the heart remembers, and how something long dormant begins to breathe again.

This person perhaps has no idea how profoundly they touched me. They opened my heart, my body, and my mind simply through their presence. They were not someone to be underestimated. I saw how easily we miss the extraordinary when it arrives quietly. We often construct stories to make sense of it, rather than simply receive it.

Weaving the Unfinished

There is something unresolved here — and I’m choosing not to rush it. The angel story is not complete. Not because it lacks meaning, but because I haven’t yet allowed myself to ask the questions of them or myself that would give it shape. I notice how easily I still make stories, second-guess, and hold back — how familiar that edge of self-protection remains.

Perhaps that, too, is part of the teaching. Not every encounter is meant to be understood immediately. Some connections are invitations rather than answers. Courage sometimes looks like staying with the not-knowing a little longer.

Returning to New Zealand

What is complete is my relationship with this land, at least in the way it has held me until now. I came here to grieve. I came here to remember. I came here to heal. I saw family, I closed old loops, and I met myself honestly. In doing so, I felt something settle.

New Zealand no longer feels like the place where I need to return to find myself. It feels like a chapter lovingly complete in its own time.

The Gift of Connection

I have done a great deal of healing since Richard’s death. I can see now that there is always another layer. Not because something is “wrong,” but because life keeps inviting us further in. Further into aliveness. Further into truth. Further into ourselves and our soul.

By the time I leave New Zealand, something has shifted. It no longer feels like the place I need to anchor myself. Home has moved inward.

“This journey wasn’t about returning to who I was. It was about arriving as who I am now.”

Perhaps the greatest gift of all was this reminder: we are changed not only by grief and loss, but by connection. Sometimes, one soul appears at exactly the right moment to reflect us back to ourselves — more alive than we realised we were ready to be, more raw than we might have expected, and more beautiful than words could capture.

New Zealand held me, but not as it once did. It mirrored back my own humanness and vulnerability — fully, deeply, and without mercy. It showed me that I am alive, both spirit and body. Sometimes, it is another presence — quiet, unassuming, yet luminous — that holds the key to recognising just how alive we truly are.

“This journey was a testament to the enduring power of connection: to land, to self, and to the souls who appear exactly when the universe knows we need them most.”

Embracing the Journey Ahead

What I carry from this adventure is a simple, yet profound invitation: stay open, lean into trust, and allow yourself to be fully human. Life unfolds in its own rhythm, and it’s perfectly okay not to have all the answers. Sometimes, the grace is simply in being present, noticing, and letting the not-knowing be enough.

I do this work for myself as much as I do it for others. When something difficult, awkward, or unresolved is met and alchemised within one system, it subtly changes the field for the next. It makes it safer. It makes it possible. What I bring to this work is lived experience — a knowing shaped by having walked through the fire myself. From that place, I sit beside others when they are in their pain — not speaking from words, but from something deeply embodied.

The Journey Continues

As I reflect on my time in New Zealand, I realise that this journey is not just about the past. It is about the future and the possibilities that lie ahead. Each experience, each connection, and each moment of vulnerability adds to the tapestry of my life.

I invite you to consider your own journey. What lessons have you learned? How have connections shaped your path? Embrace the unfolding of your own story.

In the end, it is not just about the destination but the journey itself. Each step taken is a step towards deeper understanding and connection. Let us cherish the moments that make us feel alive and the souls that walk beside us on this journey.

---wix---