There is a particular quality of disorientation that is very familiar to me. It comes with an internal scramble: where am I in this? For much of my life, I have understood that scramble as a social or emotional response. Only more recently have I begun to trace it further back to something embodied and foundational.

Recently, I found myself sitting in a therapy group, noticing something subtle but familiar unfolding.

The composition of the group had shifted. What had previously been a predominantly female space now felt more evenly balanced. During the session, three of the men began speaking together at the centre of the room — animated, connected, relieved to have space to speak openly with one another.

The therapeutic container, the cherished sanctuary wherein

safety can dwell, is becoming more porous to outside events.

Events like global conflict and environmental uncertainty bleed

through our boundaries and shake the shared ground of our safe

places. This shaking ground is no metaphor; rather, a potent and

present cohabited field phenomenon. The outside world is not and

has never been outside.

It All Begins Here