Episode Transcript
Back in 2012, I had the unfortunate experience of my back giving way on me. In hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have been a surprise.
My first career was landscape gardening. I started at sixteen and lived a very active life, but I didn’t take particularly good care of my body. I was fit, but disconnected—dragging my body around behind my mind.
Then one day, out of nowhere, my back went.
I was physically active at the time, and suddenly I was in excruciating pain—on and off, but mostly on—for the next two to three years.
I did what you’re meant to do. I went to the doctor. I had X-rays. They found mild scoliosis, compression and degradation around L1 and L2, disc issues below that, and damage to a couple of transverse processes—small stabilising structures on the spine.
The conclusion was simple: surgery might help, but there were no guarantees. Otherwise, I was told I’d entered the pain-management phase of my life.
I was thirty-eight.
That didn’t sit well with me.
So I started experimenting. I worked on flexibility and strength. I changed my diet—cut sugar, which surprisingly helped. I explored mindset, awareness, and emotional regulation. Each thing helped a little, but nothing resolved it completely.
The biggest shift came when I became aware of how I moved.
I realised I’d been living almost entirely in my head. My body was reacting, compensating, catching up. When you’re not fully present in your body, it only gets the “highlight reel” of your intention—and the rest becomes strain.
Eventually, my body had enough and pulled itself off the field.
Most mornings, I’d wake up feeling okay, but within minutes of gravity taking over, my back would seize into spasm. If I stood too long or stayed in one position, I’d be forced to lie down until it unwound.
Alongside the physical work, I started exploring the body as a reflection of energy. I asked myself what my back represented.
Support.
The loss of physical work hit hard. I couldn’t do what I’d always done. I worried constantly about supporting my family. There were days I lay on the floor crying, wondering how I’d survive the next decades.
Eventually, I turned the question inward:
How am I supporting myself?
Even before the injury, I knew the work I was doing wasn’t aligned. When my back went, it forced a re-evaluation.
I decided to study naturopathy. Through anatomy, physiology, psychology, and systems thinking, things started to come together. Unfortunately, administrative issues forced me to leave the course, leaving me with debt and no clear path forward.
I became a school bus driver—something I could manage physically. During that time, I continued refining awareness practices and working with energy. Progress was slow but real.
Then one morning, while driving the bus, I asked myself clearly:
If this is about support and alignment—what am I actually here to do?
The answer came immediately: to explore and develop mind–body awareness and share it.
At that moment, something shifted in my back.
Within twenty to thirty seconds, the pain disappeared.
Completely.
I’m not claiming I “cured” my back. The structural issues are still there. In fact, years later, the same thing happened again—and that’s what confirmed it for me.
When I fell out of alignment, the pain returned. When I realigned—mentally, emotionally, energetically—the pain resolved.
The second time, the process was faster. I could feel it happening. I used the experience as a live practice in self-healing and awareness, and within about a week and a half, I was back in alignment.
What this showed me is simple, even if I don’t fully understand all the mechanics:
When mind and body are aligned—when you’re connected to your energetic signature and allowing your true expression to emerge—the system functions without pain.
Healing, in this sense, isn’t permanent. It’s conditional.
Alignment is the condition.
When alignment slips, symptoms return. When alignment is restored, they resolve.
The first step in that process is always the same: returning to the neutral state. From there, reconnection and natural unfolding can occur.
That’s the work we develop here—living practices that support alignment over time.
