Beyond the basement

Back at my favourite tree in Leeds after a hard winter of with grief, change and travel, I’d like to introduce you to a new inner figure in my life: a rhythmic, embodied, non-verbal part of the psyche that has something to teach us about moving with life’s natural tempo.

Sparked by a dream about drums, rhythm and an instinctive masculine presence, this episode explores what it might mean to be held by something greater than yourself - nature, seasonality, the body, time, instinct, spirit, the greater force of life itself. When words, strategies and self-help tools stop working, what remains? What if there’s a deeper beat still going on in and around you?

Join me as I explore the comfort of surrendering to larger cycles, while still participating in them. I’ll reflect on grief, timing, intuition, agency, masculine psyche, improvisation, and the possibility that some parts of us already know when to move closer, when to step back, when to rest, and when to trust what unfolds.

This is an episode about rhythm, mystery, instinct, support, and the spiritual relief of realising you don’t live life alone.

What if not caring is actually healthy?

In this episode I explore the difference between caring (attention, effort, emotional labour) and blessing (love from afar, well-wishing, release).

If you’re a sensitive, perfectionistic, empathetic type who ends up feeling on behalf of other people, this is an invitation to draw a clearer boundary around your ‘kingdom’ - to reclaim that which is yours (and shed that which isn’t), with dignity.

Try it today. Say you don’t care, if you find yourself caught up in someone else’s drama, or taking responsibility for their reactions. What comes up for you? Judgement, shame… or relief.

It’s the first episode of 2026 - and no, this isn’t a pep talk about New Year’s resolutions, grit, or “becoming your best self” by February. If anything, I’m here to make the case that January is the worst time to set goals. It’s still winter. Nature is resting. So maybe you should be too.

Instead, I want to explore something adjacent: ambition.

A friend told me recently, “I’m not ambitious.” And it got us into a deeper inquiry: what if ambition has become tangled up with conventional success - status, money, prestige, the “nice car and impressive job” storyline - and that’s why so many people feel allergic to the word?

In this episode I share my own career arc (from “prestigious job and gravy train” → jumping off in my late 20s → an anti-corporate, frugal, rebellious 30s → a 40s return to purpose, impact, and more options). And I unpack why “success” and “failure” are often unhelpful binaries… because some of the most meaningful wins are actually how we navigate what didn’t work.

We’ll also talk about:

* The difference between goals (often cold, rigid, and perfectionism-triggering) and hopes (clear enough, but held lightly)

* How ambition can be healthy when it’s yours, internally referenced, and aligned with your values

* The “vibe check” principle: how the things that go well often feel lighter, more natural, less forced

* Why clarity soothes (and how ambiguous expectations can be an act of unkindness to your nervous system)

* A winter-friendly approach: dream now, hope gently, act later (spring is for beginnings)

If you’re feeling behind, lost, or like you “should” know what you’re doing with your life by now - I hope this episode meets you softly. There’s no rush. You’re a living process. And surviving gracefully counts as success in my book.

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Find me on Instagram + LinkedIn: Chris Kenworthy

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Loneliness isn’t the same as being alone. And solitude isn’t a necessary evil - it’s a skill. This is a winter postcard about choosing yourself, slowly, on purpose.

This episode is a postcard from midwinter - a love letter from the quieter edge of life. I’m exploring the difference between loneliness, being alone, and solitude… and why those aren’t the same thing.

I talk about those “lonely stories” many of us have (how a feeling becomes a narrative, which quickly becomes ‘truth’), and how easy it is to live in a world where you can go days without meaningful contact - even when surrounded by people.

From a quiet New Year, I’ve been experimenting with what I’m calling conscious solitude: choosing withdrawal on purpose, putting myself first, slowing down, making humble plans, and giving myself the loving gaze I usually reach for ‘out there.’ Not isolation. Not a digital detox. More like 80% inward, 20% outward - with gentle contact points to stay sane.

If you’ve ever felt lonely in a crowd, or caught yourself outsourcing your sense of worth, this one’s for you. Big hug. I see you. Happy new year.

Join me beneath a silver birch tree in my local park as I explore the messy, empowering, and deeply embodied world of boundaries. This episode dives into the lived experience of saying yes and no - where you end, where others begin, and how asserting your edges becomes an act of dignity, humility, and self-leadership.

I share recent stories from my life and my improv practice, including a difficult withdrawal from a performance. Through these moments, we look at why boundaries often feel icky or shame-tinged, why we avoid them, and how our bodies tell us the truth long before our minds do.

We’ll explore the difference between loving boundaries and defensive ones, how resentment grows when edges aren’t expressed, and why small, compassionate no’s prevent the need for thermonuclear ones.

And towards the end, I share an unexpected discovery: how honouring your own boundaries subtly shifts your presence in the world - how people look at you differently, how you feel more real, and how clarity creates safety, play, and connection (just like good improv!).

Come along if you’ve ever struggled with people-pleasing, losing yourself in any kind of relationship, anxiety, or trusting yourself.

In this episode, we explore the tyranny of taking life too seriously - that joyless, over-responsible, heavily burdened state that achievers, perfectionists, caretakers, people-pleasers and “grown-up good boys and girls” know all too well.

From the trenches of self-improvement fatigue, I look at how seriousness becomes a self-reinforcing way of being in the world - one that mistakes control for safety, purpose for productivity, and endurance for worth.

I share why our nervous systems cling to the familiar heaviness of ‘being the grown-up’ and how that seriousness quietly drains colour and aliveness from our lives, and what helps to shake it loose again: irreverence, mischief, distraction, connection, and following what feels alive.

This is an invitation to loosen your white-knuckled grip on life’s steering wheel - not by abandoning responsibility, but by remembering the play, pleasure, and curiosity that make being human worth it.

If you often forget to have fun (or can’t even remember how to), this one’s for you.

Come with me on a two-day immersion in fooling - a raw, theatrical, embodied practice that invites you to meet the many parts of yourself with innocence, curiosity, and play.

Part archetype, part inner-world explorer, the Fool becomes a guide into your psyche: revealing sleepy parts, terrified parts, sexy snake-bodied parts, collapsed melodrama parts, cautious parts, joyful parts - every fragment you usually hide, override, shame, or race past.

Instead of fixing or analysing, the Fool asks only: “Ooh… what’s here now?”

I share what I learned as I moved through my own inner landscape: how easily I lose myself in ‘other’ (hello people-pleasers), how much drama my parts can stir when I believe them too literally, how the whole system softens when met with playful non-judgement, and how fooling, surprisingly, becomes a kind of reparenting of yourself.

We look at why perfectionists struggle with this (hello right/wrong thinking), why embodiment is the key to bypassing the mind’s defences, and how the Fool teaches you to let every part have its moment on stage, then bow and exit.

You’ll hear about invisible rest, snake energy, Monday-morning cupboard meltdowns, the theatre of our inner world, and the art of touching your own experience without becoming it.

If you’ve ever wished for a way to meet your noisy inner world - your wounds, your longing, your tenderness, your mischief - without drowning in it, the Fool might just be the companion you’ve been looking for.

Unsettled and alone in hotel room somewhere in Derbyshire, mid-improv retreat, I explore the messy, human art of self-soothing- learning to find safety, connection, and calm within ourselves.

This episode weaves together attachment theory, perfectionism, embodiment, and nervous system theory as I reflect on how people like us (anxiously attached) show up in relationship with ourselves and others, as well as in even the tiniest gestures - like reaching for your phone or social media.

I share a micro-practice I’ve been experimenting with: catching the moment of “reach” and meeting it with breath, touch, and self-attunement instead of self-abandonment. We explore why self-soothing isn’t about yet more hyper-independence, but about rebuilding trust with ourselves - without cutting off from connection with others, nature, or what’s truly sacred and meaningful.

Along the way, I speak about boundaries, heartbreak, relentless doing as a recovering Perfectionist, and the lifelong dance between self and other - between the child who still reaches for safety and the adult who can now hold that reach with love.

Come for a walk with me, exploring the nature of self and other - what it means to be sovereign, an individual in relationship with other individuals. I record this reflection in a time of loss and transition. Expect theory and tenderness: from Enneagram, instincts and attachment theory, to the longing for union, the ache of separation, and the bittersweet truth that we come in alone and leave alone.

I look at how perfectionism plays into our desire for merging and control, how we project our unloved parts onto others, and how the path to healing (or wholeness) might lie not in fixing, but in welcoming everything - every messy, contradictory, beautiful part of being human.

Along the way, I find myself circling grief, dignity, humility, and love - with the quiet realisation that what I’ve been searching for has been here all along. What if you’re the one you’ve been waiting for?

I’m not doing so well, and I want to talk about that.

In this croaky reflection, I explore what it means to know when you’re struggling. Not just intellectually, but through bodily signals you might recognise. Like the tight jaw, restless legs, sleepless nights, looping thoughts, the quiet slide from responsibility into martyrdom. Through the lens of perfectionism, I map how easily “doing our best” turns into self-neglect, resentment, and collapse.

I share my own warning signs, the ways my inner critic piles on shame, and what it means to retreat with care rather than make self-care another performance. This is an invitation to pause, listen to your body, and remember: struggling isn’t failure - it’s a signal to love yourself more gently.