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WELCOME TO THE METTĀ VIEW

The Mettā View weaves together stories, lessons, and reflections from the varied areas of my work—business development, conscious communication, coaching, mindfulness, and strategy—while offering a mindful lens that invites new perspectives and insights. It’s a gift from my heart-mind to you, dear reader. May it bring you inspiration and invite moments of reflection and connection. ✨

Hey friend,

Today’s email is more of a check in. While I often write about ideas, work and projects, occasionally reflect on the world (as I did the other week), today’s a more personal view of the last couple of months.

Also here are some exciting updates.

First up, I’m delighted to be a guest at the recently born Marketing Meetup in Geneva, known as TMM for short.

TMM is a positively lovely community for marketers with 50K active members around the world. Founded in the UK, The Marketing Meetup runs in-person events as well as a series of online workshops and conferences. They often feature TEDx speakers, CXOs of some of the world's best-known companies, and well, now, me!

What won me over as I looked them up (I am ashamed to say that I hadn’t heard of them before their chapter lead contacted me), is a clear stance of kindness for the lovely marketing humans who get together during their events whether online or IRL. “No selling. No awkward intros. Just good chat and proper good people.” How lovely is that? It hits me right in my values, so of course, I was thrilled to accept the invitation.

I’ll be speaking about “Story of You, and how values-based storytelling sets you apart” on June 12th, details and ticket registration are in this link.

If you don't strictly call yourself a marketer, you can still join. I have never called myself that either 😊

What I am is a story-lover and I am very much looking forward to sharing some of mine, the power of resonant stories and eliciting some from you on the night. If you are in town, please join!

Right on the heels of this event, I’ll be offering a guided meditation and reflection on June 17th during a panel on How to Navigate Digital Transformation and AI at Pulse for Women in Digital Switzerland.​

Next month, I’ll be offering a Loving Kindness for Writers Workshop for my favorite community, the London Writers’ Salon, on July 12th, you can join even if you’re not a member. While the event link isn’t out yet, you can follow their event calendar on Luma right here. As good a time as any if you’d like to explore their offering (which I highly recommend!)

And a little further into the future but exciting nonetheless, I’m offering the Story of You Workshop at Soho House Berlin on September 21!

As always, thank you for reading me, I never take your time or attention for granted.

Warmly,

PS. I have been using Claude.AI ‘max’ plan, which I didn’t even know existed until Claude told me I couldn’t ask it to brainstorm with me until 9pm because I’d overstayed my welcome, metaphorically speaking. That felt unacceptable and I jumped on the upgrade. If you fancy joining me in the ‘max’ users who need as much as they can get in terms of brainstorming power, click the referral link - you may get me up to four months free! Click here.​

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The physical reality

Okay, so I’ve been dragging myself around for weeks.

There. I said it. A day spent in the sun and I’m still pale, I wake up after 9h sleep and instead of jumping out of bed, I yawn my way through to my morning dog walking routine. No extra sleep or lying down seems to recharge me sufficiently - I drag myself through my days. It is, well, exhausting.

My ailment is physical. I had to stop exercising. Even a 30-minute yoga practice had me reeling as if I were hiking local peaks (bearing in mind the fact I'm a trained yoga teacher, and I LOVE the practice.) Last Saturday, I had to stop 15 minutes in to have a lie down and abandoned myself to a long savasana (with my dog on my legs, very grounding). There it is again, I just yawned typing this. The strangest manifestation of this sad state is that coupled with the yawns, I keep on sighing deep, long, audible sighs. The last time I heard one of those, I turned around in the supermarket to see where it came from. Then I realised it came out of me. At that time, I was grieving the loss of my father.

So what's wrong with me?

Well, low haemoglobin, most likely brought on by heavy periods, and a cascade of health issues from a failed IVF treatment that left me 16kgs heavier and depleted from many inner and outer resources. If you want to know what that means, the internet offers: “Low haemoglobin refers to a condition where the level of haemoglobin, a protein in red blood cells that carries oxygen, is below normal. This can lead to symptoms like fatigue, weakness and shortness of breath, and may indicate underlying health issues such as anaemia.”

A pattern of denial

Like most of my clients, especially female clients, I did little about this for weeks. My OBGYN had already scheduled me for an iron infusion, after I’d had a blood test in February. The wait time was five weeks. I just rode with what I was given. I went to bed as early as possible, and my body complied, I slept heavy nights replete with complex dreams. Next, I moaned and yawned with my friends. My naturopath gave me some supplements. ‘Vous avez une petite mine’ she said. ‘You look under the weather’. I’ll say.

I reasoned that if I rested more, things would get better (they did not). My tone sallow, my eyes small, I give off a look that says: “Yes, I have lady problems, and a mountain of a to-do list.”

It’s quite surprising how silly I can be sometimes. Had a friend - or even a stranger - told me how truly exhausted they felt, I’d have sent them to the doctor for a rushed blood test, piled iron supplement at her doorstep, along with a kilo of oranges (to help with the absorption of the iron).

Ah, to be my own best friend.

Yet daily, I vigorously clean my face to look a little revived, get dressed in my favorite work from home-wear, and park myself at my desk. The cats and dog take their place around me, fighting for their favorite spots, for their leisurely day of napping, while I pull up my daily to-do’s and type, Zoom, and business-plan my way to the next stages of Le Trente.

This drive, this efficiency, is the work of ‘Speedster’, my alpha-left brain character, which I personified after reading Whole-Brain Living by Jill Bolte-Taylor. The classic A-type, doing what it does best, ordering the rest of me around to make sure that whatever happened, she makes me get down to business. Speedster shows up when hard stuff is going down, and she takes the reins that makes me think she has a direct link to my inner energy-bank. Powering through, the rest of me (my unnamed parts) mooned and yawned and let her get on.

But lately, I’ve started to wonder if this relentless drive is always serving me. A recent article I read on Inc.com (“New Science: Too Much Grit Can Actually Damage Your Brain”) shared research showing that constantly ‘white-knuckling’ through adversity can actually lead to serious cognitive difficulties—trouble concentrating, forgetfulness, and mental fatigue. The term for this coined by the researchers is the ‘allostatic load’: the wear and tear on the body and brain from chronic stress. It made me pause. Is my inner Speedster actually costing me more than I realised?

The push and the pull - or who to listen to

Consistency hasn’t always been my strong suit, particularly when I am doing something new, something that feels big, daring, outside of my comfort zone. Conscious that there are new deadlines that I owed myself to respect, Speedster leaned into the momentum. “Fatigue be gone,” I heard myself mutter under my breath, straightening myself on my office chair.

Now don’t go thinking I’ve lost my capacity for self-compassion. When necessary or appropriate (aka every other day), I worked from my sofa, tucked under the softest fluffy grey blanket (May wasn’t that warm), with cats and dog sleeping on either side of my shins, taking the occasional nap (or elevated legs yoga nidra). It helped. Actually, I may need that sofa in a minute.

Paradoxically, when I open my eyes gazing on a new day, the excitement alone could make me jump out of bed. Before I emerge from under the duvet, a quick body scan and a yawn bring me back to reality, so I wisely remain tucked in, grab my phone for a guided meditation, let body, mind and breath come together - before I get up, go through the day, and yawn some more.

Powering up the vision

It’s intense to bring to life a new vision. So much to do. All the time. This wasn’t a lifestyle choice for me, let’s be clear. And yet, despite this, there’s an ebullience in my belly and chest as I contemplate the conversations I’m having, the potential in the work in progress.

This week, I acted on the dream by purchasing two beautiful vintage arm chairs that will be set in the library that will hopefully soon be under construction to replace my guest bedroom*. Make my vision visible, clear, so it can be better understood by all who will come into contact with it.

The first recordings for the Metta Interviews are set up. My brilliant friends tell me they are excited about the prospect. Meanwhile, I’m eager for September to roll around for all of it to be ready. But wait, one step at a time.

The client mirror

I remember a coaching client a few months ago who was wondering why she felt so out of sorts. Within minutes, we worked out that she’d gone through a move, a burnout, an operation and something else that slipped my mind.

I suggested to her that the sum of the experiences that she’d gone through was more than likely weighing on her, and it was important, essential even, for her to look after herself with as much kindness and care as possible. She looked distraught on the other side of my screen, taking in the list of obstacles she’d surmounted, and then with a smile, she sighed: “Oh, I just did not see it that way.”

Is it because her brain wanted to protect her, not let her see the metaphorical mountain she had climbed? Was it to help her move forward? I wonder.

Knowing what I know, as a mindfulness and loving kindness teacher slash business woman, I’ve done as much as I could to respect my commitment to myself at work, and a commitment to my health, too. Oh, I just grimaced while I wrote this.

Perhaps I could have been even more gentle. Oh, the irony! How well I support others with their self-care, and how easily I forget to listen to myself.

In the Inc article mentioned above, the author, Jessica Stillman, points out that popular culture often celebrates grit without acknowledging its costs. We’re encouraged to be resilient, but rarely reminded to seek help, rest, or connect. The research suggests that practices like meditation, deep breathing and especially reaching out for social support are not just nice extras — they’re essential for true resilience.

The change

I finally got my hour-long infusion of iron (Ferinject). I’m starting to emerge with the morning sun; there are fewer yawns.

Now for the weird part: while my health hasn’t been at its best, despite my energy levels bottoming out, I don't think I've ever been happier in my life.

Take in the paradox!

Maybe that’s the lesson: real resilience is about listening to all of our parts (that includes our bodies), not letting the inner Speedster - our gritty task master - push us beyond our limits. And cultivating pockets of time where can take in glimmers of goodness. Whether that be a cuddle with loved ones (furry or otherwise), a win at work, or a quiet moment in nature.

Until next time.
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* I am selling a fantastic bed and a couple of pieces of furniture to make space for the new vision. If you want a CocoMat bed, because you fancy ‘sleeping on nature’, as their slogan says, get in touch. Details in these ads.

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