- Bex
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Hello Lovelies,
Saturday began with what has now become my new “island normal” — a little yoga, some writing, and then wandering down to Scala for a swim. I know it’s going to be a shock to my system when I get home and can’t just dive into the healing waters of the Aegean every day.
Lately, I’ve taken to swimming mindfully, or floating on my back, connecting deeply with the Element of Water. Water represents the emotional body. As I float, I call on it to help me release what no longer serves me, to bring me back into flow, and to show me where I’m clinging rigidly out of fear or lack of self-belief. Many things are surfacing — some painful, some illuminating. Healing is daunting, but recognising where we need to heal is always the first step. I feel grateful to have this time and space to reflect, and I can already sense shifts happening, even as my biggest challenges rise more clearly to the surface.
Later, I was due to meet Anja and some expat ladies to see Irish dancing in the village, but it was too busy to get in. Instead, we drifted to a bar, watched the sun sink behind the horizon, and sipped cold beers. From there I met Stephanie and Sylvie — two English women who’ve called Lesvos home for decades.
Stephanie married a Greek man, raised her family here, and has just celebrated the birth of her first grandchild on the island. Sylvie, though, truly stole my heart. At 84, she’s lived here since the 1990s, having first come with her husband in the ’80s. She has weathered deep losses — her husband, and more recently her son — yet she radiates grit, humour, and a kind of Yorkshire matriarch strength that humbled and inspired me.
When I asked what advice she’d give to younger people facing adversity, she said:
“Always follow your dreams, no matter how difficult. Live life day by day. Mind over matter gets you through, and always keep busy. Make every day count and keep looking forward.”
She and her husband worked for 12 years to make their dream of living here a reality, and though she misses him terribly — “even if it’s only to tell him to f**k off,” she said with a wink — she counts herself both unlucky and lucky. The kindness of her Greek neighbours, even simple gestures from old men who had no English but plenty of compassion, carried her through. Here, as in Pagan circles, the elderly are honoured and respected, not overlooked.
Meeting Sylvie, especially so soon after Benjamin’s anniversary, felt like the Universe sending me a loving but firm kick up the backside: count my blessings, crack on, and stop getting in my own way. I came here seeking inspiration from Celtic and Greek Goddesses, yet my biggest muse so far has been this funny-as-f**k, unbreakable Yorkshire grandmother.
Sylvie, I salute you.
Sunday, I knew I needed some headspace away from Scala and the festival. Luckily, my dear Anja — who rarely talks feelings but somehow always knows what I need (a true woman of action rather than words) — whisked me off on an adventure I’ve been itching to do: spying on the Sannyasins.
For those unfamiliar, the Sannyasins are followers of the Indian mystic Osho. If you’ve seen the Netflix series Wild Wild Country, you’ll know why my curiosity was piqued. There’s actually a centre here on Lesvos, set in a beautiful expanse of land with little huts, communal kitchens, showers, and meditation spaces.
We didn’t meet many of them, and those we did weren’t exactly chatty. Still, I couldn’t resist sneaking a little video of them doing what looked like a “shushing” meditation, hiding in the trees like a total pervert. Not to mock — I’m genuinely fascinated. All paths are valid if they give people strength. Personally, I’m not drawn to spiritual paths that withdraw from society. At The Witches Hat and in our Daughters of Danu Circle, our magick is about weaving the old ways into the modern world — healing and celebrating in the messy, beautiful now. I’ll return to the Osho centre soon to join in a meditation properly and report back.
From there, Anja and I visited the grounds of the Monastery of Archangel Michael. Michael is an ally I often call on for protection. We didn’t climb up to the monastery itself — Sunday service was happening and it was definately T'wot for the steep climb — but instead rested in a lovely wooden gazebo by a reservoir. It was peaceful, nourishing, and another top-up for the inner calm I’ve been cultivating here.
In the evening, my buddy Storm and I treated ourselves to a Hammam. Last year I adored it, so a return was inevitable — especially with the bargain price for double bookings. My therapist this time was a lovely young woman called Masha, and between her firm hands and the steamy ritual, I was blissed out. Naked as the day I was born, I didn’t care one bit — body positivity is contagious on this island.
The Hammam was everything I remembered: steaming out toxins, being scrubbed within an inch of my life, covered in bubbles like angel kisses, doused in icy water, and then massaged into jelly. Pure bliss. My shoulders dropped inches, my soul felt recombobulated, and I may just sneak in another before I leave.
Afterwards, Storm and I shared a nice meal in the village, and I drifted to bed deeply relaxed, half-dreaming already.
Halfway into my stay, everything feels like it’s aligning. Some people may think it odd to use a holiday for soul-searching, but this is exactly what I needed. The elements here hold me, heal me, and remind me why I came.
And just to reassure you it’s not all deep healing and inner work — today’s blog is late because a quick grocery trip somehow turned into day drinking in the square. Balance, right?
Until next time, thank you for reading.
Much love and bright blessings,
Bex xx
