I understand what it feels like to be stuck. This is how letting go changed everything for me.
I thought self-expression and vulnerability in relationships were for others. I believed the thoughts I’d carried since childhood, and felt too much shame even to examine them.
Even when I tried to play the piano, it felt like I was fighting against myself. I was in conflict — my true voice was buried, and the more I tried to be expressive, the more my body clamped down. This wasn’t just a musical problem — it was a human one.
I was frozen. I couldn’t make music freely despite my extensive training. And I couldn’t be myself no matter how hard I tried. My impulse was to work around the patterns that were holding me back and put on a brave, competent face for the world.
A pivotal car crash in my late twenties turned into my greatest gift. My recovery led me into a journey of bodywork, and I began releasing tension I had no idea I was holding. The transformation was remarkable: I found myself increasingly free and expressive with other people, as the body released its protective grip. And piano playing became effortless as I stopped forcing and simply allowed.
That’s when I discovered something profound: our bodies are like musical instruments, but we dampen our own strings to stop them from resonating. As I let go of the grip, there was a creative explosion. My life of fear and hiding was transforming into inspiration and potential. This is what I’d been looking for. I dared to follow my secret dream of writing music for television. Is there something you long for but feel unable to share?
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After composing for TV, I began to explore the subconscious through psychotherapy. I drew from the deep, mysterious pool of the subconscious, expressing intuitive feelings and concepts with art.
A sense of the unseen was explored in the “Requiem for the Missing” — a choir of hooded monks somberly pacing the courtyard of Somerset House. And a new connection to my ‘inner child’ inspired a miniature fairground organ which found its way to the Courtauld Institute of Art.
As my body and mind continued to let go of old patterns of tension, it felt like I was thawing out from a lifelong freeze response. I began treating myself with self-compassion. It’s a process I now guide others through — in creativity, relationships, and everyday expression.
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Next came my obsession with the melodica, a small, playful instrument. It represented freedom from everything I’d learnt at music college — formality, perfectionism and seriousness. I decided to apply everything I’d learned about effortless action to see if it would help me master the instrument.
I spent six months in the Himalayas, alternating weeks of melodica practice with silent meditation retreats led by Buddhist monks. The meditation had a profound effect on my music, as I learned to allow rather than force.
The fun of the melodica and its effortless expression perfectly symbolised the freeing of my newfound personal creativity.
I realised that there was no difference between music and meditation, creativity and spirituality — there was only being your authentic self.
I dreamed of a beautiful wooden melodica and searched for someone to make one for me. But when no one could, I realised I had to step up and make one myself. It was the culmination of my journey from a blocked pianist to a person confident enough to follow their own intuition and expression.
It resulted in the Unola — a beautiful wooden melodica with two keyboards that enabled me to express the authentic music inside. The instrument was unique and unconventional. But isn’t that true of anyone’s authentic expression when they peel away the layers and really allow themselves to be?
I trained as a transpersonal psychotherapist (qualifications) to make sense of the journey I’d been through. And I now teach this path to others — not as theory, but as lived experience. The creative freedom, spirituality, and authentic expression all come from the same place: learning to let go of what’s keeping you contracted.
And what’s revealed? Your true, unhindered nature — freely expressing your own personal creativity.