This newsletter section is posted monthly and has all the info you need to join virtual events including yoga and breathwork for people with chronic health conditions or limited energy that I offer.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

If the meditation timing doesn’t work for you, you can watch the playback on YouTube. I would be forever grateful if you helped me on my goal to getting 500 YouTube subscribers. (I currently have 205!).

October 2026 Calendar of Offerings

Thank you for reading Creative Wellbeing. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Writing accountability

🖊️Join me for FREE virtual daily writing sprints with the London Writers’ Salon
Weekdays at 8am UK/ 8am ET/ 8am PT/ 8am AUS and Saturdays at 9am UK

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Check out my cookbook

Nurture: Oil-free, plant-based cooking for health is available in ebook and print (ships world-wide!) If you live with a chronic illness and would benefit from a complimentary ebook, please get in touch!

As someone who has written poetry pretty much her whole life and who has performed off and on for the past 20+ years, it was really amazing to be in a room of so many poetry enthusiasts watching people perform to such a high standard. People who’s job is “poet.” It’s a dream really, one that’s being realized in this age of social media and Ted Talks, online communities and in-person events. I left feeling more inspired to seek out accessible poetry nights (not easy for an art form often relegated to upstairs function rooms and basements of ancient pubs.) I got a ticket for Raise the Bar’s October Open Mic at the Pickle Factory. I’ll keep you posted as to wether I attend as an audience member or performer.

Below are snippets of each of the brilliant poet’s sets and their bios.

Travis Alabanza

Travis is a writer, performer and theatre maker from Bristol. For stage, Travis wrote and performed in their debut show BURGERZ which won the Total Theatre Award at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, sold out at Southbank Centre and Traverse Theatre and toured internationally. It was also voted one of The Guardian Readers Top Shows of The Year. The text is published by Oberon Books. In January 2026, the show will be remounted in Australia at the Sydney and Melbourne theatre festivals.

Their play Overflow, which premiered at and streamed from The Bush, was met with critical acclaim including numerous four-star reviews and was shortlisted for the George Devine Award. Their latest theatre commission, Sound of the Underground, premiered as part of the Royal Court’s new season in 2023 to critical acclaim.

Georgie Jones

Performer by nature and poet by trade, Georgie Jones has been praised for her ‘formidable stage presence and compelling way with words’ (Reviews Hub). Roundhouse Poetry Slam finalist turned Resident Artist and BBC Words First alum, Georgie has toured her work across the UK and gathered millions of views online.

Her debut collection And The World Spins Anyway is a love letter to real life, however it shows up; an exploration of the exquisite messiness of modern existence in which Georgie, with her signature wit and warmth, makes the chaos feel actually quite comforting.

Roger Robinson

Relocating from London to Trinidad with his family aged 4, Roger later returned to the UK aged 19. Describing himself as “a British resident with a Trini sensibility,” his formative years in the Caribbean resonate strongly through his writing. In 2019 and 2020 respectively, his critically-acclaimed collection, A Portable Paradise, won both the T. S. Eliot Prize and the Royal Society of Literature Ondaatje Prize, was shortlisted for the Derek Walcott prize, and was listed as New Statesman Book of the Year.

His most recent collection for the collaborative project Home Is Not A Place with photographer Johny Pitts, was shortlisted for the British Book Awards in 2022 and listed as a Guardian Poetry Book of the Year 2022.

Hollie McNish

Hollie McNish is a poet and author based between Cambridge and Glasgow. She was the first poet to record at Abbey Road Studios, London and won the Ted Hughes Award for New Work in Poetry for her poetic parenting memoir – Nobody Told Me – of which The Scotsman stated ‘The World Needs this Book’. She has published five further collections of poetry – Papers, Cherry Pie, Plum, and Slug and Lobster, both Sunday Times bestsellers, with translations in French (Je Souhaite Seulement Que Tu Fasses Quelquechose De Toi) and Spanish (Cosas Que Mis Abuelas). Her latest collection is Virgin. She loves writing.

Safiya Kamaria Whitaker

Dr Safiya Kamaria Whitaker is a choreopoet and scholar known for her compelling live-literature performances. As part of her research Safiya reimagined dance notation for the Black diaspora, created an editing technique that brings movement and literature together for both page and stage, and created a new creative methodology in ethnography for the Black diaspora. Her debut poetry collection, Cane, Corn & Gully (2022), was shortlisted for the 2023 Rathbones Folio Prize and Felix Dennis Forward Prize for best first collection. It won the 2023 Barbados ‘Gine On’ People’s Choice Award for best book and is housed at the National Museum of Barbados. Safiya’s work has appeared in journals including POETRY, Callaloo, Wasafiri, Poetry London, and The Caribbean Writer. She is also the first alumna of the Obsidian Foundation.

Michael Pedersen

Michael Pedersen is a prize-winning Scottish author, Edinburgh’s Makar / Poet Laureate, and the former Writer in Residence at Edinburgh University. He writes across fiction (Muckle Flugga), non-fiction (Boy Friends), and poetry (The Cat Prince). Pedersen has won a Robert Louis Stevenson Fellowship and the Books Are My Bag Readers Award for Best Poetry, as well as being shortlisted for the Forward Poetry Prizes, the Scottish National Book Awards, the Indie Book Awards, and more. A Sunday Times Critics Choice, his work has been translated into French, German, Spanish, Italian, Estonian, and beyond, with praise garnered from the likes of Stephen Fry, Bernardine Evaristo, Ocean Vuong, and Kae Tempest.

Nikita Gill

Nikita Gill is an Irish-Indian poet, playwright, writer and illustrator based in South England, with an emphasis on Hindu and Greek mythology and folklore from around the world. She has written and curated eight volumes of poetry, and uses social media to engage her audience of 850,000 followers on Instagram, one of the most popular poets on the platform.

She will be reading from her brand new, forthcoming verse novel Styx. Beginning a generation before Hekate (Sunday Times bestseller 2026), Styx sings the story of the goddess of the underworld river that bears her name.

Harry Baker

World Poetry Slam Champion Harry Baker is a poet, a maths graduate, and a new father. His work has connected with millions online, from being shared on TED.com to making people cry through their TikTok and Instagram feeds, but he thinks it is even better in person. His previous collection Wonderful was accompanied by a 40-date sellout UK tour two years in a row, including headlining the Poet’s Revival at the Royal Albert Hall. His new collection Tender was published with Canongate in March 2026, and was a Sunday Times Bestseller.

Thank you for reading Creative Wellbeing. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Writing accountability

🖊️Join me for FREE virtual daily writing sprints with the London Writers’ Salon
Weekdays at 8am UK/ 8am ET/ 8am PT/ 8am AUS and Saturdays at 9am UK

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach

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This year I wanted to truly commit to the full 100 days, but as always I have a million things I was to do, dozens of projects I’d like to invest in and there’s the tricky factor of “will my health allow me to work or will it limit my capacity?”

And so I’ve decided to invest in 100 days of showing up. I can work on any non-client personal work for one hour and it “counts.” I can bank hours on days I’m feeling well and lend them to days I’m not and it “counts.” Writing, drawing, attending virtual or in person events, reading poetry or about creativity all count. I’m trying to make this achievable for myself. I’m trying to lead with the carrot rather than the stick.

I have a tendency to be quite hard on myself and to feel guilty when I’m not “achieving” or have not met (even self-imposed, non-pressing) deadlines. So these hundred days is a reset of sorts to bring creative whimsy and things left on the back burner intentionally into my life.

So what I have I done this week? (days 1-4)

• Watched the 100 Days workshop and committed to my process goal

• Performed poetry at Our Place

• Released the sixth Writing in Community anthology into the world

• Watched a Showing Up on Substack Without Burning Out workshop

• Wrote this newsletter post

Want to join me? It’s not too late to join either on your own or “officially” through the London Writers’ Salon.

Thank you for reading Creative Wellbeing. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Writing accountability

🖊️Join me for FREE virtual daily writing sprints with the London Writers’ Salon
Weekdays at 8am UK/ 8am ET/ 8am PT/ 8am AUS and Saturdays at 9am UK

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach

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Meditation and a Creative Workshop

This newsletter section is posted monthly and has all the info you need to join virtual events including yoga and breathwork for people with chronic health conditions or limited energy that I offer.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

If the meditation timing doesn’t work for you, you can watch the playback on YouTube. I would be forever grateful if you helped me on my goal to getting 500 YouTube subscribers. (I currently have 203!).

September 2026 Calendar of Offerings

Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation

Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET
September 21, 22, 23, 24, 28, 29, 30

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops

The third Monday of each month - September 21
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach (My goal is 500 subscribers, could you be one?)

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Read what I published in August

Now I like to be given explicit permission. I like being asked to contribute. I’m well aware that there are many lit mags both print and digital that have open calls for art to adorn covers or sit alongside written work, I just hesitate to call myself a visual artist and so never take those calls seriously.

But I am a visual artist. I minored in fine art at university. I taught fine art to high school students for five years. I teach visual art workshops to adults. I make art. My entire newsletter is based on the premise that the process of being creative fosters wellbeing.

Following on from my deeply held belief that “if you write, you’re a writer,” then it should be obvious that “if you make art, you’re an artist.” But I guess imposter syndrome runs deeper in some disciplines than others.

So here are the pieces I submitted. I don’t know if any will be chosen but it felt good to send them off. I feel a bit trepidatious sharing them with you. But I read a great quote yesterday that said something to the effect of that in the age of AI, the most radical and human thing we can do is make imperfect art with out own hands and share it.

Let me know what you think.

Thank you for reading Creative Wellbeing. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Writing accountability

🖊️Join me for FREE virtual daily writing sprints with the London Writers’ Salon
Weekdays at 8am UK/ 8am ET/ 8am PT/ 8am AUS and Saturdays at 9am UK

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach

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I didn’t want to come in today to get my bladder and kidneys imaged “just to be safe,” just to have a “base line,” so says my new urologist. I left the house at 10:30 and won’t be home until after 1. On the hottest day of the umpteenth heat wave of the summer. I debated calling and cancelling, spending the day in bed with the AC blasting. My husband reminded me I’d go to the very end of the line and it might be a long time until I could get a new appointment and so I begrudgingly took a cold shower, put on my shoes and scooted up to the bus stop.

I just couldn’t imagine driving to the hospital, trying to find a parking spot and then trying to find a sympathetic passerby to help me unload my scooter from the car. It would have been a more pleasant journey with a more anxiety inducing end. There is no shade at the bus stop and the bus is running 10 minutes late. I pour water on my head, my legs, my arms to use evaporation to try to stay cool. The driver is a pro and adjusts the bus just so, kneels it to the curb so he doesn’t have to get up and get out the ramp.I maneuver forward and back, forward and back until I’m in the wheelchair space and we’re off.

The hospital is blissfully cool compared to the bus. I scan my barcode at the kiosk and take a detour to the bathroom before arriving at my waiting area with three minutes to spare.

The forests are burning. The crops are dying. And I’m getting my kidneys imaged by a very timid junior doctor named James. He introduces himself twice. He’s being trained by a sonographer named DJ who has a firmer hand than James. She knows what she’s looking for, where to find it and how to save the image in the computer: uterus, coil in situ, behind the uterus is the bladder, harder to see because it’s empty. I admit to just emptying it before the appointment. The paper didn’t specify that it needed to be full. DJ says it’s fine.

I lay on the table thinking about how the heat makes it hard to walk. Hard to think. Hard to exist. We haven’t had rain in weeks. Plants in our garden have died due to thirst. My husband put in an irrigation system. The cat sleeps spread eagle in the hall. I invited her into the air conditioned bedroom last night as a kindness but she wants to rawr and be pet. I want her to sit quietly and cool off at the end of the bed. We can’t find a compromise so she leaves.

James was looking too high up my abdomen for my bladder, up by my stomach, by my liver. DJ pulls my shorts down a bit, the gel smearing on my belly. My appointment began 20 minutes late. I’m realising that’s likely because of James’s novice status and light touch. It feels unfair. If I’m 15 minutes late no matter how hot it is or how poorly I feel my appointment will be cancelled. If James doesn’t know which filter to use to get a good view of potential kidney stones, everyone’s appointment gets pushed back.

DJ had no idea how hot it was outside. She said it was 22C/72F when she arrived at the air conditioned hospital. I assured her it was much hotter now. She said she loved the heat. I said I used to love it before it made me weak and woozy. I could tell she couldn’t really imagine what I was talking about.

I do not know if James likes the heat. He was wearing long trousers and a white oxford shirt. He sits on the bed beside me while looking for my left kidney. DJ finds it easily with twice as much force. James tells me to take a deep breath and hold it. Over and over. Sometimes he forgets to tell me to breathe normally and I listen for the clack of keys on the computer to know when it might be safe to exhale.

Finally it’s done. It looks normal. My doctor will get a report next week. DJ helps me get my feet on and off the bed. James adjusts the height so my feet touch the floor. I am hot and weak. It takes me several tries to get back into the scooter. James slides it closer to the bed. I tell him it’s light. That’s relative but he looks strong. DJ comes back with some sort of transferring device but I’ve got it and am back in my scooter ready for a snack and to catch the meandering inferno of a bus home.

The bus is for vulnerable people. Poor people, old people with shopping trolleys, students, the disabled (though only one wheelchair per bus at a time thankyouverymuch) and the mentally unwell. I eat my snacks as hot air from the cracked window blows on my face dreaming of cooler weather and the promise of rain.

Thank you for reading Creative Wellbeing. This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Writing accountability

🖊️Join me for FREE virtual daily writing sprints with the London Writers’ Salon
Weekdays at 8am UK/ 8am ET/ 8am PT/ 8am AUS and Saturdays at 9am UK

Connect with me on socials

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It is a bold proclamation to say you are a purveyor of hope, especially in the face of a disease that’s often described as “the most common disabling neurological condition of young adults.”

And yet, Overcoming MS from its humble beginnings, as a list on George Jelinek’s refrigerator to the codified program that has helped thousands of people with MS live well, peddles hope by the boatload.

I was in denial for a year before I decided to get the persistent tingling in my feet checked out at the insistence of my acupuncturist. I was not imbued with much hope when what was supposed to be an outpatient appointment with the neurologist turned into a 5-day hospital stay. It resulted in a diagnosis for which there was no hope of a cure – at least not in the immediate future.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

For me, Overcoming MS became Emily Dickinson’s little bird, singing to me on the many sleepless nights I had, post-diagnosis. I devoured the Overcoming MS website, ravenous for the science, the testimonials, and most importantly, I think, the sense of optimism: I wasn’t doomed and could take steps toward making peace with my body and calming my symptoms.

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’m 10 months post-diagnosis and the storm in my body is still raging something fierce. I have incomplete remission, which was initially diagnosed as primary progressive MS, then revised when I responded to a course of steroids. Being classified as having relapsing-remitting MS keeps my options open in terms of which DMTs I can be prescribed, but the ‘remission’ part of classification still eludes me.

The hope Overcoming MS exudes is palpable in the forum and Facebook Lifestyle Support group where the problem-solving team of thousands of OMSers who have been there and tried that are happy to help the newly diagnosed (like myself) learn to read labels, cook without oil and decipher the 400-page tome that has become my roadmap back to health.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

It’s the generosity of time from volunteers, Circle Ambassadors, and community members helping one another that is the essence of Overcoming MS. All the information a person with MS needs to adopt the program is freely available on the website, no strings attached. There’s no paywall or membership fee. The charity exists to spread the word of how lifestyle interventions have helped thousands of people worldwide live well with MS.

The caveat is that hope doesn’t offer a specific date when the thing that’s hoped for will manifest. I’ve been following the program since May 2021, taking vitamin D and telling my family what I was doing and why right away. I shifted my diet, carved out minutes (and then more minutes) from my day to meditate, and am about to try my second DMT to slow my very active MS.

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And yet here I am, still hopeful that following the Overcoming MS program will eventually ease my tingles and help my walking the way it has already lifted my fatigue. I am still in what Dr. Roy Swank called “the first fragile year” where I’m learning how to rest, relax and de-stress. I’m reframing the perfectionism that led me to burn out as a public school teacher and settling into a mindset of “good enough is good enough.” I’m gradually dropping the weight of the world that I used to carry on my shoulders, and putting my energy back into caring for myself.

I am now the producer of the Living Well with MS podcast by Overcoming MS. Listen here.

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach (My goal is 500 subscribers, could you be one?)

📱facebook @ReginaBeachCreativeWellbeing

📸 instagram @reginabeach_creativewellbeing

🌴 linktr.ee @reginagbeach (Find everything in one place)

This newsletter section is posted monthly and has all the info you need to join virtual events including yoga and breathwork for people with chronic health conditions or limited energy that I offer.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

If the meditation timing doesn’t work for you, you can watch the playback on YouTube. I would be forever grateful if you helped me on my goal to getting 500 YouTube subscribers. (I currently have 199!).

August 2026 Calendar of Offerings

Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation

Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET
August 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 11, 12, 13, 17, 19, 20, 24, 25, 26, and 27

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops

The third Monday of each month - August 17
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach (My goal is 500 subscribers, could you be one?)

📱facebook @ReginaBeachCreativeWellbeing

📸 instagram @reginabeach_creativewellbeing

🌴 linktr.ee @reginagbeach (Find everything in one place)

Read what I published in July

Trailblazing with CP

Disability Unfiltered: An Incurable Diagnosis & My Search For Creativity

Welcome to my series, Disability Unfiltered, where I’ll be highlighting other disabled voices on Substack…

Read more

4 months ago · 43 likes · 16 comments · Amelia Hall and Regina G Beach

This blog post was first published on the MS Society’s website. Read the original here.

* A note for context, this essay was written in 2022 and since that time my disability has progressed to the point that I’m not currently able to ride even a stationary bike and I haven’t felt well enough or brave enough to exercise outside the house in many months. All this is to say, the dynamic and progressive nature of MS makes it hard to recognize myself in my own words, but I still think they’re worth sharing

Any day on two wheels is a good day, though I haven’t been on a bike in too many months. Before I was diagnosed with relapsing remitting MS last April I was an avid long-distance cycle tourer. I peddled Boston to Maine and Milan to Split.

A 500km trip through the Cotswolds and Wye Valley left me with impossibly numb, weak hands. And this left me unable to button a shirt or pinch open a clothes pin for several weeks. I wrote it off as cyclist’s palsy, but my neurologist says it was my first major relapse. I was most at home in the saddle of my bicycle, but MS has made me unsteady and unable to balance on a bike.

Making changes to suit my needs

Stationary bikes, on the other hand, are perfect for me as I’m unlikely to fall off or tip over. There’s a spin class at the local leisure centre on Monday nights. And I’ve been going for a few months. I was very intimidated walking into an exercise class full of able-bodied athletes with a visible disability. I walk with a stick and a noticeable limp left leg. I thought I’d be an object of curiosity, but whether out of politeness or acceptance, no one has mentioned anything.

My husband, a triathlete, comes with me in case I need help getting on or off the bike. It’s nice to be able to ride with him again. Even if I’m in a lower gear and doing fewer miles than anyone else. I can’t walk fast enough to increase my heart rate. But I can just about pedal hard enough to break a sweat.

I thought the fact that I can’t keep up would be a huge deal. But it turns out no one cares and I’m truly only competing against myself.

Living more mindfully with MS

I’ve made lifestyle changes to help control my MS symptoms. I follow the Overcoming MS programme. And I feel that changes to my diet, reducing stress and my disease modifying therapy, have had benefits for my fatigue and mobility. And research shows that strength and aerobic exercise can help with MS and overall health.

I disclosed my diagnosis to the instructor at the first class I attended. And I told him I’d be doing my own modified version of his instructions. My first goal was just to stay on the bike for the whole 45-minute class.

I foolishly wore my padded shorts and clip-in cycling shoes to that first class. I was able to clip in at the start of class, but my legs were so tired by the end that I couldn’t unclip! My left foot was attached to the pedal and I couldn’t reach to take it off. My husband came to the rescue and was able to help me free my shoe and dismount. That incident really drove home the fact that I’m not the same cyclist I used to be.

I’ve gone from barely completing the class on the lowest gear to adding some resistance and doubling my distance. I have a long way to go before I feel comfortable getting back on a regular bicycle. But I’m glad I’m slowly getting back in the saddle.

Maybe in next week’s spin class, as the pop music blares and I focus on keeping my knees from knocking against each other, I’ll turn the resistance level up a notch.

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I have so many feelings around living with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). There’s the grief of the life I thought I’d live that will likely never materialize. There’s the sadness of feeling helpless and incompetent at basic things, taking forever to do tasks like cooking, cleaning or getting ready for the day. I need support for the errands and minutiae of daily life that I used to take for granted.

I also feel a lot of shame: over not making it to the bathroom in time again . . . and again. There’s the shame, (or is it regret?) of not getting my symptoms checked out when they first emerged. Would I have been able to stem the tide of profound disability with more hasty intervention? There’s also the guilt I feel for relying on my husband to take care of me. He does the lion’s share, earns the lion’s share, and takes care of the house, carefully planning with me in mind. We were barely married when I started having symptoms. I regret he only knew me for a few years in my old body that could hike and bike and run and dance.

I have never been so aware and yet so unaware. I stepped on a shoe in the living room yesterday when I came home from physiotherapy and fell on the floor, totally unaware of my surroundings, where I was standing. I do that with my own legs; sometimes I forget they're crossed or don’t know what I’m stepping on.

I’m also hyper aware: of the pins and needles in my feet, of the way I walk and the stares that accompany me if I’m in public on my own. I’m better able to steel myself when I’m with family or friends. I’m aware of my bladder, worry about my bowels, but awareness doesn’t always equate to control.

I feel frustrated not knowing if I’ll have a good day or a bad one when I get up. Will I be able to walk well or hardly at all? The inconsistency is maddening and sends my type A plan-ahead brain into a tailspin of myriad eventualities to plan for: What if I feel like this? What If I need that? What if this happens? I can’t be spontaneous anymore.

I feel anxious about the future. I know there are people who stabilize, even improve their symptoms, shrink their lesions, live with more or less benign MS, but will I be one of them? My symptoms have been with me a long time and with every passing year I feel like recovery is just that much more out of reach. Will I deteriorate? Will I need constant care? Will my cognition fail me? My aphasia worries me the most. Forgetting names of people, of companies, of household items. I love words; they have been my constant companion. Who will I be if they run out one by one?

I also feel compassion in a way I never have before, for the elderly, those with visible and invisible disabilities, and those whose brains are wired differently. I used to be strict and unrelenting. I was in the camp of “do more, try harder, work more and surely anything will be surmountable.” I’ve softened, admitting some mountains just can’t be climbed.

I’m grateful for the good days, the community I’m developing, and the incredibly diverse group of people MS has brought into my life. I have a global community united by technology and membership in a club no one wanted to belong to. I’ve met people all over the globe who have introduced me to a healthier lifestyle. Even if I am so sick in some ways, I’m eating better than I ever have, managing my stress better than I ever have, and thinking of myself first in ways I never have before.


I’m in a better headspace than I was a year ago. It’s been six years since I felt the first tingles in my feet. I was a real mess emotionally for a long time. Anxiety and depression are now recognized as MS symptoms and not just secondary conditions that often coexist with the disease. I used to feel a lot of bitterness and resentment toward everyone with MS who can still walk, who can hold their bladder, who has seemingly milder cases than I do, but who’s to say really what’s actually worse?

A year ago I would have struggled to find the silver lining. My partner has lived up to his promise that we’ll still see the world, just in a different way and at a different pace. He’s promised to stick with me, even when – and perhaps especially when – I’m difficult to love. I’m sure he has a lot of emotions around MS, too. Helplessness, anger, feelings of unfairness, discomfort, but he has never been upset with me, never blamed me, never accused me of faking or exaggerating a symptom. I know others with partners who are less generous in spirit around this ever in-flux disease.

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I know that my feelings will change. There are people who say getting sick was the best thing that happened to them, that they got clear on their priorities, changed their jobs, dove into their bucket list, are healthier and happier than they’ve ever been. I’m not one of them. I’m not there yet and I don’t know if I’ll ever get there. But I don’t think that they’re the toxically positive Pollyannas I use to think of them as. Now I think they truly believe what they say; maybe they have found the needle in the haystack, the diamond in the rough, made their own pitcher of lemonade. Maybe someday I will, too.

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach (My goal is 500 subscribers, could you be one?)

📱facebook @ReginaBeachCreativeWellbeing

📸 instagram @reginabeach_creativewellbeing

🌴 linktr.ee @reginagbeach (Find everything in one place)

This newsletter section is posted monthly and has all the info you need to join virtual events including yoga and breathwork for people with chronic health conditions or limited energy that I offer.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

If the meditation timing doesn’t work for you, you can watch the playback on YouTube. I would be forever grateful if you helped me on my goal to getting 500 YouTube subscribers. (I currently have 192!).

July 2026 Calendar of Offerings

Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Q&A: Writers of Writers’ Hour – Daisy Buchanan, Deepa Paul & Gina Beach

📝 Join me for The London Writers’ Salon’s panel Q&A discussion
Thursday July 23
9-9:45am on Zoom

I’ll be discussing my new cookbook Nurture: Oil-Free, Plant-Based Cooking for Health alongside two other amazing authors and .

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach (My goal is 500 subscribers, could you be one?)

📱facebook @ReginaBeachCreativeWellbeing

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🌴 linktr.ee @reginagbeach (Find everything in one place)

Read what I published in June

The next box of cytotoxins arrived by courier on Monday. My husband signed for it. No safe space allowed for unmanned drop offs with this package. Inside the large brown box with its giant yellow tape and black all caps warning stating essentially “poison inside” was a tiny box. A box no bigger than a box of skinny Crayola markers. A box containing a mere four pills “since you’re so tiny” the woman on the other end of the pharmacy delivery company’s line said after confirming my address and date of birth. (The normal dosage is 5 days).

I try very hard not to be offended as I actually worked hard to put on weight since my diagnosis. My ribs are no longer visible. My collarbones no longer protrude.

I did the same song and dance last year. Four days of pills. Wait a month then four more. My only side effects were more fatigue than usual during pill week and a dip in energy a few months later when my blood count was at its lowest. That’s what those little white pills do: murder most of the white blood cells so they grow back ignorant of their forefathers’ treason against my central nervous system. The new ones aren’t programmed to eat away at my spinal cord. The new ones don’t burrow into my brain.

I followed the protocol exactly last year. I did not touch the pills with bare hands as I took them out of their extremely tricky-to-navigate child-proof box. I drank two pints of water and went to sleep (only to wake multiple times in the night to pee). But this year I got complacent. Or lazy or I just forgot. I don’t think the headache is due to briefly touching the pills. But it very likely has to do with under-hydrating.

In the year since my last dose my mobility has taken a nose dive. My walking is the worse it’s ever been. I installed a stairlift at home, spend more time seated, must will myself to do even the gentlest of exercise. I do not leave the house without my wheelchair or mobility scooter. I use a walker indoors. My food drops, my toes scuff, my hip hikes. I am an asymmetric mess. And I’m exhausted.

Previous medications I tried had fewer (or perhaps just less debilitating?) side effects. The occasional cheek flushing, GI problems, chronic UTIs, ok so maybe they have all been unpleasant, but they have not left me unable to function, unable to think the way this constant headache has. I race time to do a few hours of client work in the morning, to stretch and hydrate, and read a few emails until my vision blurs and the nausea rises like my office has moved to a floating platform in the Severn. I lay down, telling myself I’ll do a half an hour meditation to take the edge off. Two hours later I manage to make it back to my desk for an hour only to find the headache hasn’t really gone and is growing in force. So back to bed. Curtains drawn. Willing my body to relax. This will not be forever.

But that is the fear. That is always the fear with a progressive, debilitating disease. That in might, in fact, be forever. My husband asks if I want to get my eyes checked when I complain of blurryness and ocular pain. I say I’ll see how I am tomorrow. I’ll likely say the same then. I cannot imagine sitting in a dark room with a bright light shone in my pupils. I can actually think of nothing worse.

I ask my friends who get headaches what they do. Coffee, water, cold compress, sleep, a concoctions of over the counter meds that work better together than on their own. I order a freezable gel mask. I add ibuprofen to the Panadol I’ve been taking. It doesn’t touch the sides.

I think maybe I’ll be one of those writers who writes in fits and spurts from bed like Virginia Woolf. I will become a mysterious recluse. The neighbors will ask about me. I will never descend the stairs again. My husband sends me a photo of the first clematis of the season. I hope I can brace the great outdoors in time to see it in person before it withers away. Before I wither away.

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After three days I relent and visit the Forums. The internet is full of horror stories that will make you so sure you’re dying imminently and the death will be painful and horrible. I find out lots of people get headaches from these little white pills. The suggestion is to drink 3 litres of water daily and take electrolytes and magnesium and sports drinks and to rest. Some people report a headache lasting six months. Surely I will perish if I am in this much pain for that much time. But I think about everything else I’ve gotten used to: the nerve pain, the muscle aches, the twitching and stiffness and wonder if this could feel normal. I do not want debilitating nausea and a headache from hell to be normalized.

My husband says he’s going to the grocery store. I ask for anti nausea meds and magnesium and electrolytes and Lucozade sports drink and he only comes back with the latter. Says he will go to the pharmacy tomorrow. That he couldn’t find what I asked for at the grocery store. He also bought me ginger ale. We watch a show on his laptop. He descends the stairs. I put on an audio book. I can’t look at any more screens. I can’t read any more recommendations about hydration.

I wanted to be promoting my cookbook this week. Celebrating. Shouting from the high heavens: it’s here! Please buy it! I wanted to thank all of you who have purchased a copy. I am humbled and grateful and I want to ride the momentum but I can’t. Because my head is pounding. And my stomach is doing cartwheels and I have to patch myself up to take those next four, those last four pills, one a day commencing in a week and a half. I promise myself I will drink so much water you will not believe how many times I get up in the night to pee.

This is not forever. The forums also harbor messages of hope. Of eventually feeling stronger, of walking better. If it all being worth it. Of years of remission. Of the headaches being a faint memory. Of gait improvements. Of balance getting better. Of sensory symptoms lessening.

My favorite post is about faith. The poster says you just have to tell yourself “this little magic white pill is working. I’m getting better. It will all be worth it. I have faith.”

And so I’ll keep lying here in bed. Reminding my stiff muscles to relax. Practicing breathing. And remembering this headache won’t last forever. It will be worth it. I’m getting better. I have faith.

Today I could not be more proud to be launching Nurture: Oil-free, plant-based cooking for health. It’s actually hard to believe that this book is officially out in the world. It would mean everything to me if you could support this project. It has truly been a labor of love.

From learning how to write accurate, easy to follow recipes to tackling the overwhelming world of food photography, this book has taught me a lot about the resilience and tenacity needed to finish a big project and feel brave enough to share it with the world. All of the recipes are original. All of the photographs are mine. And if I do say so myself, this is a beautiful book.

How to get a copy of Nurture

The e-book is available to purchase and download from my website.

And the print book is available through my Lulu shop. It ships world-wide and you can pay in a variety of currencies.

If you are a paying subscriber, watch your inbox for an email with the ebook and info on how to get your print copy included in your subscription. If you’re not yet a paying subscriber but are thinking of becoming one, everyone who signs up for an annual membership by August 1 will also get a complementary print and ebook.

If you live with a chronic health condition and the ebook sale price ($5 US) is out of budget, get in touch and I'll make sure you can have access to the delicious, health-promoting recipes we've created. This book is for you, for all of us and I don’t want cost to be a barrier for anyone.

I want to share the foreword to the book with you so you can learn more about my story, why I wrote it, what it means to me and hopefully why this was such a challenging project for me to get over the finish line and into your hands. My deepest gratitude goes to everyone who tested recipes, cheered me on, came to dinner parties and edited parts of the manuscripts. And extra special thanks to the Overcoming MS community who helped teach me to cook beautifully and healthfully with vegetables and the Goldies who asked me, “well why SHOULDN’T it be you to write this book?” enough times that I got over my imposter syndrome and started believing I could finish this project.

Links

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach

📱facebook @ReginaBeachCreativeWellbeing

📸 instagram @reginabeach_creativewellbeing

🌴 linktr.ee @reginagbeach

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

Writing accountability

🖊️Join me for FREE virtual daily writing sprints with the London Writers’ Salon
Weekdays at 8am UK/ 8am ET/ 8am PT/ 8am AUS and Saturdays at 9am UK

This newsletter section is posted monthly and has all the info you need to join virtual events including yoga and breathwork for people with chronic health conditions or limited energy that I offer.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

If the meditation timing doesn’t work for you, you can watch the playback on YouTube. I would be forever grateful if you helped me on my goal to getting 500 subscribers.

June 2026 Calendar of Offerings

Virtual Event Links

Daily Mindfulness for chronic conditions

🕉️ Join me for FREE Virtual Seated Breathwork and Meditation 
Monday to Thursday
12 to 12:30 pm UK / 7 to 7:30am ET

Monthly Creativity Workshop for MS and related conditions

✍️Join me for MS-UK’s FREE virtual monthly “Get Creative, Improve Your Wellbeing” workshops
The third Monday of each month
2:30 to 4pm UK / 9:30 to 11am ET

MS Symptoms Webinar

💻 Join me as I host the webinar “MS symptoms made manageable – practical strategies for daily life” for the Overcoming MS charity.
Thursday 23 June
7pm UK / 2pm ET

Connect with me on socials

📹 YouTube @ReginaGBeach (My goal is 500 subscribers, could you be one?)

📱facebook @ReginaBeachCreativeWellbeing

📸 instagram @reginabeach_creativewellbeing

🌴 linktr.ee @reginagbeach (Find everything in one place)

My feet are swollen.

My brain can’t think and as the ice caps continue to melt slowing down the global conveyor belt that pulls warms water northward. It’s the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC) that keeps the United Kingdom temperate despite being the same latitude as Manitoba and the middle of Russia, in other words, places that experience snowy, intensely cold winters.

I’m imagining making a perfect, round snowball. So cold I can see my breath.

We do not always have a summer. Sometimes I’m wearing a puffy coat and winter hat in July hunkering down as the wind blows and mist and fog roll in. Other times, like now, we get a heat wave. This is the hottest May on record. Today temperatures peaked at 35 degrees C or 95 F. We are not equipped for this weather. Like most UK houses, my house does not have air conditioning. I am mercifully blessed with a ceiling fan in the bedroom but we don’t have even a window AC unit.

Yesterday my husband filled up the paddling pool, essentially an inflatable pool for kids and scooped me up and dropped me in to cool off. You see, like upwards of 80% of people with MS, I experience Uhthoff’s phenomenon, or heat intolerance. Even a 0.5 degree C change in my core temperature means I stop functioning as well.

I can’t walk.

My feet swell.

I can’t think.

My drop foot is more pronounced.

I can barely move.

And then the psychological symptoms set in: anxiety, cog fog, irritability, the impending doom and fear that this will be forever, I’ll be unable to do anything, my husband will leave me and I’ll become destitute wither away. I know logically this is not the case. That really I just need to dunk my head in water, rub ice cubes on my pulse points, drink something cold, but it’s hard to snap into action when my feet are stuck to the floor and my brain is mush.

If the AMOC (which is down 15% in strength since 1950) continues to loose steam, the even increasing amount of less dense freshwater will stay at the surface of the ocean instead of sinking to the bottom of Davy Jones’ Locker. Western Europe would plunge into a mini ice age with harsher winters and sea levels would rise dramatically—bad news for an island nation.

2025 was the hottest year on record and 2026 is on track to beat it. I’ve seen a dusting of snow two or three times since I moved across the pond. Snow in the UK is in long-term decline. Temperatures are rising and I am so very, very hot.

I took a cold shower this morning and a swim after work this late afternoon. The skies were tormenting me with rolling cumulus clouds and rumbling thunder that never materialized into rain. A crow cawed at the cat from the roof of the shed. She was splayed on ground, miserable in her long coat. My husband made gazpacho for dinner. It was too hot to cook. We ate under the canopy outside, me in my wet swim suit, hair nearly dried from my paddling pool dip.

I used to love the heat. When I briefly moved back to Ohio after teaching in Southeast Asia I would get chilled even at 78 degrees F so used to the 90+ degree days and humid nights I was. I would sunbathe at the Chicago beaches in my 20s, spent hundreds of hours doing yoga in a 105 degree F hot room. And now? Now I must preempt the sun, wear a hat, seek shade, sit by the fan.

And yet.

I still drive a petroleum-burning car. Still order from Amazon, still fly, still eat tropical fruit in winter. And still complain about the heat. Because the Brits, above all, love to start conversations by talking about the weather.

Any tips for staying cool?

Should I invest in an AC unit for the bedroom?

How’s the weather by you?

This post has been in my drafts folder for nearly a year. So long, in fact that volume two of The Stafford Challenge Anthology has just been released and I could NOT 1) be more pleased to have helped edit this fabulous collection again and 2) be more mortified that I never shouted about the first volume!

What is The Stafford Challenge I hear you ask?

But how did you, Gina, get involved in such an endeavor?

I don’t know exactly how I first became aware of the challenge, which was started by Portland, Oregon based poet Brian Rohr, but the concept of writing poetry every day was fascinating to me. Did I write 365 poems last year? No. Am I on track to write 365 poems this year? Also, no. But have I been engaging in, thinking about, reading, writing, and talking more about poetry since becoming involved with the Challenge? 100% absolutely, positively.

As one of my superpowers is editing and producing poetry anthologies I stuck my hand up as asked Brian if he wanted help with the book. What started as an idea for an ebook snowballed into the start of Wild Poet Press, ISBNs, Library of Congress records and a bona fide paperback book (in addition to the ebook.) Cohort number three is well on their way to writing a poem (or at least a snippet of a poem) in honor of the late, great poet William Stafford, who was a “daily doer” if ever there was one!

So who’s in the book?

I’m so honored to have my poems among those by poet laureates, English professors, and poets much more widely published than me. Everyone who committed to the challenge was asked to submit a poem written during the year and over 200 (of the more than 1,000 members) did just that. Here’s my poem from Volume 1:

REGINA BEACH
The Firehose of Life

I made my own life hard in the before times
Before it was made harder by lack of mobility
A peg leg and an inner ear that doesn’t know which way’s up

I made my own life hard by caring too much
Taking on the world
Being bothered by little things
Drinking from the firehose of life
Walking around wet and disheveled
Thinking that one day my lips might fit around the giant nozzle
And that I’d become omniscient
Doing it all, having it all, severed into a thousand versions of myself
Transporting the multiverse into this one short life
Attempting everything ensures nothing gets done

I used to wring the resilience from my students’ sleeves
Like it was a foregone conclusion that the least-resourced amongst us
Should automatically be able to dig deep
And find the extra capacity to thrive
At the end of the stick
In the midst of distraction
The drama of hunger, violence, cold, chaos,
the unpredictability of a life without a safety net

And now I find myself in a precarious place
Told I’m resilient, that I’m inspirational
For simply rising from bed and getting “out there”
As if the expectations were still that the disabled
Should be neither seen nor heard
That it would be reasonable for me to simply
Wither away at home where no one can observe
My stilted walking, my erratic bladder,
Where I can furniture surf my way to the
Amazon delivery rather
Than trundle out to the shops

Resilient is not what you’re born with
It’s what they call you when you’ve lived through
Something they wouldn’t want to endure
When you’ve come out the other end better than expected
Defying logic or stereotype

Resilience is to exist on the margins of a world that prizes nothing
More than perfect, healthy bodies
Young ones, beautiful ones
Ones without trauma or history or tragedy 

and here’s my poem from Volume 2:

REGINA BEACH
St. Valentine’s Eve

5 mylar balloons
red shiny hearts
on the day before Valentine’s
float away into the solid grey sky
to a farmer’s field
to be eaten by livestock,
made to feel poorly,
perhaps to die.
To careen into a waterway
tangled in duck feet,
consumed by fish
to make more plastic waste.
But for now,
in this moment
the very moment
I chose to look up from my screen
out the window
to see them float together
and then further apart
the wind scattering them, tails flapping,
wobbling first this way then that.
They are perfect
the timing,
the surprise,
the color
popping into the drab miners’ terraces,
the ashen February afternoon
and me,
to look up just then,
not too soon nor too late,
to witness this beautiful mistake
let go perhaps, or accidentally untied
from a sandwich board
at the hair salon,
the dance studio,
the cafe
they didn’t make it to their intended date
but I saw them,
escaped,
unruly,
briefly floating high

If you’re interested in buying a copy of the anthology you can find it here. And you can learn more about The Stafford Challenge (and sign up for next year) here.

We moved back to Bristol in October and I’ve been tepidly dipping my toe into the firehose of art and cultural offerings the city has to offer. The last time I lived here it was during COVID and everything was very much shut.

A bit ago I was invited out to a WeWare AV performance where three ambient musicians paired with experimental video artists to create a trippy experience where the musicians were silhouetted behind a sheer scrim while projections were shown on the scrim and mirrored on the back wall of the stage.

Do I like ambient music? Well, I didn’t really know when I said yes to the show and I’m still not sure. Some of the performers created music electronically and some used a combination of DJ kit and analogue instruments (saxophone, guitars, bass). I was happy to have the visuals to ground the sometimes repetitive and melody-lacking tunes. Images of buildings, squirrels running up and down trees, and swirling geometric shapes kept me more or less in the here and now, which seemed to be the whole point.

But beyond the actual performance, I was most impressed by the focus on process over outcomes. One of the groups had never performed together and may have never even played together with all five of them in one place. The musicians didn’t engage the crowd (who were sitting politely on bean bag chairs up front, tables in the middle and couches (where we hung out) in the back. They seemed engrossed with their craft. No one announced their coming and going, no one gave an intro or invited us to clap and cheer. There was no handholding to guide up through this sometimes difficult to understand or appreciate genre.

Strange Brew is a super inclusive, accessible art and performance space filled with black light, wild sculptures, grafitti, murals and a little library of art books. There were black lights and rope lights, sculptures and puppets on the walls. It felt DIY and thrown together, inclusive and community focused. Let’s just say it was right up my street and very Bristol and I will be back for sure.

I especially like the “don’t be a creep poster” in the gender neutral bathroom highlighting the specific actions people tend not to enjoy like being followed, repeatedly pestered or danced with when their body language says, “go away.”

At the end of the show the friend who invited me extended the invitation to come along to the AV Jam on Mondays. I haven’t been but he described it as “this, but smaller scale” where video artists and musicians just tried stuff and hung out. My husband said, “that sounds cool, Gina can play synth.”

Me? I thought. I have never played ambient music in my life nor have I ever played a synthesizer. I shrugged the invite off, “maybe, sounds cool.” When we got home, my husband urged me to reconsider. “You are a classically trained pianist, you have more music knowledge than half of the people that go to any of the jams in town, you could definitely play synth.”

This stayed with me for a while and I began to wonder if perhaps I’ve been too rigid about my creative possibilities. Perhaps I’ve been holding my cards too close for fear of judgement or feeling silly. But what is creativity if not throwing caution to the wind and being a little silly?

Let me know in the comments:

• Do you like ambient music?

• Do you like video art?

• Any artists you think I should check out?

• Do you think I could play synth?

Valentine’s Day is upon us. It’s a polarizing holiday whether you’re single or attached. I will say that my other half and I are not spending the day together. We got each other gifts (I will share pics of my new snazzy leopard print sneakers in a note if you’re curious.) He’s going to a day rave. I’m going to Writing the Occult.

I’m really excited to share the stage with these fabulous folks talking about all sorts of fascinating topics:

• , in conversation

• Kate Cherrell, on Victorian mourning practices

• Verity Holloway, on the romance of graveyards

• Eric Huang, on the gory and erotic true story of Saint Valentine

• Tabitha Stanmore, on the history of love spells

• Lindz McLeod, on her queer Austen reimaginings

• Zebib K Abraham, on the neuroscience of obsession

• Regina Beach, on contemplating death as self-love

• , on urban legends for lovers

• And a special panel discussion about Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, featuring Ruth Frances Long, Justin Lee Anderson, and Corinne Pollard

Come along! Get your ticket here

My talk is on momento mori, translated from Latin as “remember you must die” and how mindful death contemplation is the ultimate form of self-love. It’s only when we grasp the finitude of life that we can really maximize what’s important and relinquish everything else to the back burner. I’ll also talk about my experience running the Cardiff Death Cafe. If you’re not sure what a Death Cafe is, you can read my post about it in another project initiated by , 26 Momento Mori.

If you don’t have V-Day plans, why not come along to learn, play, and think about the dark side of Love & Death.

Come along! Get your ticket here

We’ll resume tomorrow at the regular time 12pm UK

All classes are free, beginner friendly and demonstrated from a seated position (though you may participate from a mat if you prefer.) Looking forward to see you there!

Here’s a recent meditation session you might enjoy.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

Sessions are four times per week for 30 minutes.

Register for the Zoom Sessions here.

Or watch the playback on YouTube.

You can unsubscribe to this section of the newsletter if it’s not for you without unsubscribing to the rest of Creative Wellbeing.

Sessions are four times per week for 30 minutes.

Register for the Zoom Sessions here.

Or watch the playback on YouTube.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays at 12pm UK/ 7am ET

This session will resume tomorrow May 27. I’ve been away in Alabama at a theatre residency for the Disability Arts Festival. Click to watch me in a performance of “From Where I Sit” which tells the lived experience of people with spinal cord illness and injury.

May sessions will run:

May 27, 28, 29

June sessions will run:

Jume 2, 3, 4, 5, 12, 9, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17, 18, 19, 23, 24

I will be at a meditation retreat from the 25th at Gaia House.

All classes are free, beginner friendly and demonstrated from a seated position (though you may participate from a mat if you prefer.) Looking forward to see you there!

Here’s a recent meditation session you might enjoy.