Simon BlacklerFROM SEPARATION TO BELONGING
Before I had a name, before I had a voice, before I had taken my first breath, my life began with a parting of worlds.
I arrived under difficult circumstances. I was held more by clinical systems than human touch. In those early hours, something imprinted within me: a sense of being here... but not being fully met. From that beginning, a pattern formed. I learned to disappear. To become small, quiet, unseen. A boy who swallowed his truth to survive. School, relationships, careers — all echoed the same underlying feeling: that I did not quite belong. |
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Perhaps that is why I have always been drawn towards the margins of life. One of my great teachers, Chris Luttichau, once taught me that black sheep explore the margins, the tributaries of life, because the mainstream simply doesn't provide the answers that they seek.
So I learned to turn over stones. To question accepted truths. To venture towards the edges in search of answers — sometimes finding myself inhabiting that mysterious space between one world and another. Looking back, perhaps that is why twilight has always been my favourite time of day: neither one thing nor the other, but a threshold between worlds.
Wounds do not stay silent inner lives however. Mine spoke through crisis, through collapse, through years of searching. And eventually, through something else entirely....
At thirty-five, in a sunlit garden in Majorca, a swallowtail butterfly rose before me. In that moment, something moved through me with absolute clarity. Not an idea. Not a thought. A knowing.
For the first time in my life, I recognised what it felt like to be fully in tune with truth itself — a feeling that has continued to guide me ever since. An inner confirmation. A quiet but unmistakable sense of being on song with life.
The butterfly became both messenger and mirror. It led me into shamanic practice, flower essence work, and a much deeper relationship with nature — where I slowly began to understand what my life had been preparing me for.
Over time, a truth revealed itself: The wound I had tried to escape was the path I was meant to walk. My separation was not a mistake. It was an initiation. It gave me direct understanding of the fracture so many people carry — the feeling of not belonging, not being met, not knowing where they fit in.
Today, I return to that place not as the one lost within it… but as someone who can now walk beside others through it. Increasingly, I recognise that much of my work belongs at these thresholds — accompanying others through the space between what has been and what is waiting to become.
As The Conductor, I work with those who feel the same call — The Choir — helping them listen for their own truth, recognise the significance of their difference, and move from separation towards a clearer sense of identity and purpose.
Perhaps that is what my own journey has ultimately taught me: we do not find belonging by learning to sing somebody else's song. We find it by remembering our own.
This is the gold born from my lead. The butterfly that transforms from the caterpillar. This is the work I now offer. And if something in you recognises this… then perhaps our paths were always meant to meet.
So I learned to turn over stones. To question accepted truths. To venture towards the edges in search of answers — sometimes finding myself inhabiting that mysterious space between one world and another. Looking back, perhaps that is why twilight has always been my favourite time of day: neither one thing nor the other, but a threshold between worlds.
Wounds do not stay silent inner lives however. Mine spoke through crisis, through collapse, through years of searching. And eventually, through something else entirely....
At thirty-five, in a sunlit garden in Majorca, a swallowtail butterfly rose before me. In that moment, something moved through me with absolute clarity. Not an idea. Not a thought. A knowing.
For the first time in my life, I recognised what it felt like to be fully in tune with truth itself — a feeling that has continued to guide me ever since. An inner confirmation. A quiet but unmistakable sense of being on song with life.
The butterfly became both messenger and mirror. It led me into shamanic practice, flower essence work, and a much deeper relationship with nature — where I slowly began to understand what my life had been preparing me for.
Over time, a truth revealed itself: The wound I had tried to escape was the path I was meant to walk. My separation was not a mistake. It was an initiation. It gave me direct understanding of the fracture so many people carry — the feeling of not belonging, not being met, not knowing where they fit in.
Today, I return to that place not as the one lost within it… but as someone who can now walk beside others through it. Increasingly, I recognise that much of my work belongs at these thresholds — accompanying others through the space between what has been and what is waiting to become.
As The Conductor, I work with those who feel the same call — The Choir — helping them listen for their own truth, recognise the significance of their difference, and move from separation towards a clearer sense of identity and purpose.
Perhaps that is what my own journey has ultimately taught me: we do not find belonging by learning to sing somebody else's song. We find it by remembering our own.
This is the gold born from my lead. The butterfly that transforms from the caterpillar. This is the work I now offer. And if something in you recognises this… then perhaps our paths were always meant to meet.
'In Simon I have found a person who genuinely listens. The custom remedies given me worked from day one.
Four years later his sessions still empower me. Why not come and join the fun!'
(Bob M, Titchfield UK.)
Four years later his sessions still empower me. Why not come and join the fun!'
(Bob M, Titchfield UK.)