Barefoot Coaches' Channel

Before grounding comes holding, and the more I hold myself, the more grounded, and flexible, I become.

This week, I witnessed how a single moment of courage can begin to melt an old system. When my co-coach and I slowed down, named what was happening, and trusted our embodied sense that something was off, the room softened—and so did I. What emerged was not weakness, but truth: emotions are data, and when leaders hold them with grounded presence, they create space for honesty, connection, and more human leadership. In a world defined by uncertainty, the future belongs to leaders who can integrate mind, heart, and gut; who can feel deeply without losing steadiness; and who model the kind of courage that makes it safer for others to show up fully. This is the work that rewrites systems—one brave moment at a time.

I’d written many times my piece’s recommended word-count, and didn’t know which were the “right” words. I was frozen in the perfectionism-procrastination of trying to make my piece contain, and be, everything it possibly could. As a result of trying to be everything, it had lost all sense of who or what it was. Then I heard the three most significant words in my professional life (and gradually, as I sat with them, probably my personal life too)…

I thought perimenopause was something to manage. Instead, it’s becoming a map guiding me through the Spirit, the Culture, and the Body. It’s asking me to rethink how I move, how I live, and how I belong to myself. Midlife really can be medicine.

Show up with authentic confidence in person and online

In this article is inspired by the Supermoon of 5th November. We are invited to stop forcing our light and start honouring our natural rhythms — like the moon.
Through personal reflection, a 3-step practice, and a moment of clarity sparked by the K‑pop song “Golden”, Sarah Cretegny reminds us:

✨ You don’t have to shine all the time to be whole.

Let your light ebb and flow. Let your being lead. Let your wild shine — softly, truly, and in its own time.

Caring had become part of my identity without realising, but when my mother’s dog, Dona, passed, something deeply shifted. Through loss and transition, I continue to learn that every ending holds an invitation and a chance to release the old roles to come home to ourselves.