Emily Phillips

There’s something I deeply value: the slow, soulful unfolding of a long conversation.

Last month I sat down with transformational therapist — and what emerged was one of those exchanges that surprised even us.

We talked about environment, community, and what it really means to compassionately allow our lives, ourselves, and our businesses to emerge in their own time.

☕️ Pour a cup of something warm — I hope the podcast offers both comfort and company on your path.

🎧 You can listen here & link in bio: https://www.emily-phillips.com/media

And if something lands for you, we’d love to hear it. 💛

With love,
Emily

There’s a quieter way of being that I’m learning to trust.

Not the kind that announces itself
Or rushes to be seen
Or tries to prove that something has changed.

It’s the kind that happens almost privately
In the way you respond differently
In what you no longer explain
In what you simply don’t return to.

Spring often carries an expectation of blooming
But I’m more interested in what feels true, before anything is visible.

What’s developing and clarifying beneath the surface, without pressure to make it or make it mean something yet.

If you’re in a similar space,
where things are changing,
Where who and what you resonate with is changing, but not loudly,

you’re not behind.

You’re just not forcing it.

And there’s something deeply sovereign inside that choice.

📸 Farah Samy

Two years ago today, the day the pandemic was officially announced in Scotland, I moved out of the flat I’d been living in for four and a half years in Edinburgh, and into a house with a friend, her husband and two children. 

I didn’t want to feel alone.

We experimented with living communally, sharing food, painting, getting the paddling pool out, and we also had deeply painful, challenging conversations, difficulties communicating and multiple relational dynamics to process and unravel together and alone.

Honestly, it hurt our friendship in some ways, and strengthened it in others.

Innate feminine wounding became more visible, I felt betrayed, rejected and deeply loved + seen

Innate masculine wounding became more visible, I felt dissociated and full of desire to lead and love from truth, like nothing else mattered, like I’d die for freedom of expression

We couldn’t find ways around certain things, and then we’d be paddling in the stream near Braidburn talking about the ripple impacts of coronavirus and watching Strictly Come Dancing on the sofa.

Much love and uncertainty and gratitude was shared, and the friendship and the experience changed my life.

A year and two weeks ago today, after three months of lockdown in London, I moved back to Edinburgh and into a new flat on my own.

I wanted to belong.

One night, I had a dream that shook me to the core, perhaps a dark night of the soul, and led to a couple of months of panic and anxiety like I’d never felt before. 

My nervous system was in survival overdrive.

It felt like my psyche was in trouble.

But my body and soul was telling me it was an initiation of some kind 

“into motherhood” was what I kept hearing.

And expressing my feminine voice in easeful ways

Into caring for the planet, it’s animals, offering the deep love of an unconditional inner woman and man, inner mother and father, inner child and teenager, inner sage and wise woman 

But today, this isn’t about me, or my story,