Why This Matters

I’ve spent most of my working life alongside people in moments where movement, care, or support really mattered.

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In residential homes, schools, with people living with diverse physical and cognitive abilities, and with older adults learning how to stay steady in their own bodies.

What I learned, again and again, is that movement is never just physical.

It shapes how people feel safe safe in their bodies, how capable they believe themselves to be, and how willing they are to take up space in their own lives.

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When I began working in movement and strength, I didn’t arrive with a desire to transform bodies, I arrived with a desire to understand them. To notice how people carry themselves, protect themselves, and slowly learn to trust themselves again.

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I became interested in the quiet parts of strength, the parts that don’t show up in mirrors.

The parts that show up when someone stands more easily, walks more steadily, reaches without hesitation, or realises they are less afraid of their own body than they were before.

My work is rooted in that.

I don’t see strength and movement as something to master or perform. I see them as something to return to, something practical and human. I care about strength that supports real life.

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Strength that lets you carry, walk, lift, twist, balance, breathe, and move with more ease and more confidence.

I care about helping people understand their own movement, so they don’t feel dependent on mine.

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You help people who feel disconnected or unsure in their bodies find direction, trust, and strength without forcing and by working with their bodies rather than against them.​​

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We practise meeting discomfort with awareness, and discovering that we are more capable than we believed.

This work is about respect for the body we have, courage to stay with it, and trust in our ability to grow.