At the start of November last year, I had seen Ali Hall’s prompt of the month on the ‘Life without Children’ publication around writing a letter to the person you feel most called to.

“Express your truth,” Ali writes. “Get it all out. Pour your love and hurt into your words.” I was ready. I was excited.

Part of my path into writing on Medium, is Identity Writing, and I knew I wanted to write to the 11 year old me who had been told she wasn’t good enough to write. I wanted to tell her how amazing she is and how amazing she is going to be, and how she would love writing so much. I started writing the piece and bringing in compassion for that 11 year old, and every Bindi in-between.

Then, before I could finish the piece, a close friend died. Nina Thair — a friend, colleague, and student. Nina had Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and living with this condition was becoming increasingly worse as the days, weeks, and months went by.

Nina made her own decision to go to Switzerland, to have a good death before an even more limited and what would be a painful life and death ensued.

There has been so much peace in her passing, and also such a sadness that we feel in the meditation classes, in the Brighton meet-up group, and on a personal basis. She was someone I saw once/twice per month; my closest local friend who was also childless. She used to often say that the meditation classes healed her childless grief. She loved the meditation group so much, and made such good friends there. It has been hard, and it is also getting lighter.

When I first started writing this piece, it was almost 7 weeks since she had passed. It is over 4 months now that she died. I notice how my grief has progressed and got lighter. How I am feeling more peace, rather than the constant broken-heartedness of the first few weeks.

I have written so much since her passing, and her spiritual presence has come into the meditation classes. I feel her spirit energy strongly. My writing has also changed as the time passes, and it is good therapy to read the words I wrote immediately afterwards, and see the changes now. Here are some words which I had written after a week:

‘Your were my friend, my closest friend I now realise. We saw each other every week on Zoom. We met in person at least once a month — sometimes two.
We had a lot to say. The time was never enough. But the body not willing to be there longer.
In class, she was Nina. The one with the beautiful smile. She would lie back, and be one of us. Her MS invisible on the screen; similar perhaps to how her childlessness was invisible in person. I remember one Social Chat, people realising about her MS as she turned her lights on by speaking to them.
There was light. She is light.
Her MS not known, her wisdom listened to. She was one of us. In the physical world, it was different. Her wheelchair brought her MS into visible view. But the huge smile was still there.

…. I’ve been holding space for my students. The ones who knew her, who loved her. The ones who are getting to know her now by reading her blog. Her words on a page. Her heartbreak on a page.
She loved the classes so much. She would look forward to them. Love them.
She has already come in as her spirit-self. Something she didn’t want to think about in her physical self, but now in spirit, she is free, and coming into her ‘on earth’ beloved classes. I love her. I miss her. Knowing I will never see her in person is hard. I cannot hug her. Or talk and talk.
Well, I have been talking to her…her spirit is strong. but one-sided conversations are not what I yearn for.

I know this is what you wanted. Your 2025 word for the year was just perfect — in control… you wanted to feel it, you weren’t sure along the way… but ultimately yes, you lived your word for this year. I love that for you… Be free, dear Nina.’

I know I am still in the early stages of this grief journey. Other griefs I’ve lived through, especially the grief of childlessness, have shown me that. It will take time, it will take inner work. I will live with the grief, and walk alongside it. I will know that I had an amazing friend who is no longer here to talk to, or to give me her wise guidance. I will feel blessed that we met.

I am living through the ‘firsts’. The first class after she passed, the first class of 2026 without her. The first Brighton meet-up without her presence — it was a group we co-hosted together. The first coffee meet-up in the cafe I would have met her — I went with her PA carer and we shared that grief. The first email to send without her being on the meditation class list; the cancelling of her subscription to classes — all first, all hard.

There will be more to follow — the first V&A trip to London without her; the first Spirit Guides meditation — a class she loved so much.

Her own blog and writing brings me solace. It’s such a reassurance to have her voice and words out there. This is what writing can do for all of us — the legacy of our life left behind for others to read, to enjoy, to learn from.

I do take peace in knowing she is no longer in pain or in a physical body she found so hard. I held an online memorial for the meditation community to remember and celebrate her life. It was possibly the most beautiful session I have held. Here are some words from her blog I shared at the memorial:

“I’ve become so tired of battling, striving, adapting and trying to fill my life. I keep coming back to the phrase ‘ I’ve done enough, I’ve done enough.’ I’m so tired and I just want to be let go. I want permission to stop.

It was April 2024 when I was told I was no longer able to travel as I had been. Everything became just too complicated and way beyond the compromises I was prepared to make. My life has become too small for me.”

Even though I cannot hug her, I know she is in a better place. We met at a time of when she was already wheelchair-bound. She has never been able to hug me back, which was something she would have loved to do.

At her family’s celebration of life for her, I saw photos of Nina standing. An image of Nina I had never seen. It reminded me that she had lived such a full life before the MS got too progressive.

Nina encouraged me so much in my work. Something I miss so dearly. She could see how wonderful I was, often when I couldn’t see it myself. We all need a cheerleader like Nina.

These are words from my journal:

“My heart feels empty. I listen to past voice notes. Our conversations. Her love for me. My love for her.”

…and as the year was ending…

“The last days of this year. A big year. The year that Nina left us. Willingly. Wantingly. It was her choice. A choice not given to everyone, but she took control. For once in her uber-controlled MS life, she took the control she needed. She left willingly. Yes, there is a big hole which is left. But I will be forever grateful that I knew her.”

Nina had wanted me to read out one of my poems at her celebration of life. I wrote a poem about our friendship, her light, her love for the meditation classes, and have included her own words from her Final Blog.

She was the best of friends.

A shining light in the darkness.

We bonded over grief,

Our childless hearts finding peace and friendship.

She was my friend,

Then my student,

And then my colleague,

And now my Guide, in Spirit.

I listen to our voice notes.

The mundane, the interesting, the ‘oh my goodness, this just happened’.

I miss these everyday glimpses of life.

She loved the classes,

Her support immense.

‘The meditation classes, and you are a big part of that Bindi,

have healed my childless grief.’

These words etched in my mind forever.

In class, she was Nina,

The one with the beautiful smile.

Her MS invisible on the screen,

Her wisdom and light shone through.

The Spirit Guides meditation was a favourite,

Her words while connecting with her subconscious:

“What you are doing is special and unique.

Those around you will learn from you.

You have a future, but you don’t need to live it.

My spirit guide will release me into nature and the universe.

I will dissolve away.”

The word for the year class brought ‘in-control’.

“Determination, patience, self-knowledge, inner strength, clarity”.

Nina, you wanted to feel it,

There were times you didn’t along the way,

But ultimately yes, you lived your word for the year.

I love that for you,

Even though my heart aches.

Your strong, powerful words from your final chapter -

“My life, my decision, my choice, my control,

acceptance and understanding from those around me who matter.”

“The closer I get, the more right it feels.”

The words you spoke most throughout the year were “I am ready.”

…and you write: “If anyone needs somewhere to go and think about me,

they can just be by the sea,

somewhere hot and sunny,

come to Brighton or go to Tokyo.

That’s where my heart is.”

Nina, I miss you so much,

I grieve your beautiful loss.

And I know, from a deeper place within me.

That you are at Peace.

That you are Light.

That you are Free.

Writing is one of the things I do for healing. Getting the words out of me, and onto the page is a release, a letting go. It helps me so much. I know that as I move through grief, more words will be written. Perhaps I will even come back to that letter to my 11 year old self. Thank you for reading, and if you are also going through the hard time of grief — perhaps the intensity of emotions at the start of the grief journey, I wish you gentleness and love.

This week is Samhain, pronounced Sau-in, it is celebrated on 31st October, and announces that we are half-way between the Equinox and the Solstice. I find that observing the year through nature and the seasons, is sacred and magical. Bringing in the ways of ancient Celtic heritage to the modern day; just as last week I was bringing in the ways of ancient India to the everyday. These old world rituals are so needed and to be valued in our new, modern world.

Samhain signals the final harvest, and the transition into winter. Something which we cannot stop, but not something I am particularly looking forward to. I enjoyed the long summer days this year, the way they lingered and the added light which was important for my soul-walks and well-being. Even the autumn days brought in the light I yearned. But winter days do bring in the most magnificent sunrises from the back of my house overlooking the sea. Because the sunrise is later in the morning, it is possible to capture it, to indulge in the vivid colours of this season. Colours of the sky, rather than the colour of the summer flowers, but just as beautiful and abundant.

Samhain is the time of endings. Saying goodbye and moving into a new season; new beginnings and energy to embrace. It is also a time when the veil between the worlds is thin. Your sensitivities will be heightened. If you meditate, you may go deeper within, and enter a more spiritual plane. You may even connect with the spiritual realm, as the veil between the physical and the spiritual world vanishes. The worlds intertwine.

Connect with your ancestors, dear soul… there is deep healing through that.

Samhain, a beautiful, nature-loving, Celtic heritage time, which went on to become All Hallow’s Eve within a Christian context, and now into the modern day Halloween. Some of the older ways of celebrating this time, are familiar in the present day: the dressing up in costumes to blend in with the spirits; the burning of bonfires to ward off evil spirits; the carving of root vegetables, such as pumpkins, and turnips.

I’ve been thinking of the traditions of life, and how they relate to me as a childless woman, for a few years now. Not having children does mean that these times of the year land differently. These child-centred celebrations were always going to be enjoyed by me and my family; but now I try to embrace the holiday times for myself.

I started with Christmas a few years ago. Making it my own. I love the sparkles, the longer nights of reflection, enjoying mince pies. I tend to celebrate each year differently — bringing in the Solstice, and reflections at the end of the year, with the Christmas celebration. Again endings, and beginnings.

Diwali is all about the light — celebrating it within myself, and others as we all shine throughout the year.

And now as Samhain comes in, I am aware of another time of year to celebrate and make my own.

The child-centred Halloween time with trick or treating, parties where adults who love Halloween are not invited as they do not have children (a true story from one of my meditation students). Changing the way you celebrate Halloween can allow the love of the time to come back.

As we heal, as we re-assess, as we make these times our own, we bring another dimension to them. No longer thinking of how we would celebrate with the children we wanted, but instead celebrating the times for what they are now.

A turn of the year to be appreciated, acknowledged in whatever way we feel is right, and enjoyed by us. For we do deserve all the joy of the season.

I‘ve been writing a lot around my Identity for over a year now, and it has been so healing. I am looking forward to publishing more of this writing, and the new writing to come. I hope you enjoy this Diwali piece…

‘Make friends with your mind’ is a concept which I gained from the Bhagavad-Gita, a text I started learning during my Ayurveda studies. Making friends with your mind, means knowing the mind, being aware of yourself when you can see that things are turning adverse. What is making the mind turn to anxiety, and using your tools before it gets too difficult. This philosophy has been something which I have turned to during the years since my studies, and also something which is easily forgotten in the moment. We are all human, and reading these spiritual texts from Earth.

The Bhagavad-Gita came into my mind today while listening to a podcast. The author, Elizabeth Gilbert, mentioned this quote from the Gita on Marie Forleo’s podcast: ‘It is better to live your own life imperfectly, than to live a perfect imitation of somebody else’s life.’ A beautiful reminder that we must follow our own talents, and live our own life.

As I write this, it is a day before the festival of Diwali, a festival I want so much to be a part of, to celebrate, to know that I am in a place of belonging. But as with so many things in my life, this is more of a wish than the reality. Diwali was never a festival which my immediate family celebrated. It was a time in the UK where Eastern religions were less visible than they are now. My family religion is Jainism, and Diwali is celebrated by Jains — as it is by Hindus, and Sikhs. But in the 1970s and 1980s the celebrations were less visible, in fact almost hidden.

Now, in 2024, Diwali celebrations are more noticeable, with the former Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak, lighting diyas on the steps of Downing Street last year. It was a sight to behold in our complex, layered colonial history.

My childlessness journey brought out a part of me, which I never realised it would. A recognition and embracing of my heritage and identity. I’ll never know if I would have embraced it in my parallel world of being a parent. Maybe I would have, or maybe not. But this year, I have been exploring my identity a lot, and there have been some deep insights. Memories have come up, and been written about; deep healing has happened, and my favourite part in all of this has been through World Childless Week.

The founder of World Childless Week (WCW) Stephanie Phillips, announced in June that one day of the days for this year, was going to be Childless People of Colour. I can still remember my joy when I saw that, and my voice message to her. It was my push to do what I knew was needed. What I had been wanting to do for a while. I was ready. I could feel that this was my year to speak up more, to share more of my complex journey, to share more of myself.

Loves, I am loving it. I love showing up and being my deeper self.

During the Childless People of Colour day I opened up to so much of my journey, mentioning things in the morning webinar on Writing our Stories of Colour, I hadn’t planned. My poetry around domestic abuse. Stories of not being heard, stories where my writing might have been silenced. Moving myself into a future where I am more ME — where I can speak up for me, and for others like me. And I do. And it feels wonderful.

An offering which has come out of this year of identity, is a healing space for women of colour. A space to meditate and connect with others who understand even more of your journey — a women of colour, who is childless not by choice. I’ve had one session which was so beautiful, and heart-warming. I loved it, they loved it. There is more to come for this healing space.

Back to Diwali, a theme I have actually been living this whole year. Diwali is the festival of lights. It is the triumph of light over darkness, of knowledge over ignorance. I can see the way that I have been shining a light this year, has been one of Diwali. Living the festival over months, shining my light over months.

Shining to overcome the darkness which has been created during the years of colonial history, and the dimming of my light. It is not lost on me that one of my programs is called Your Luminous Self.

This Diwali I am embracing myself, I am lighting a candle for myself and the light within me. I am lighting a candle for the darkness which is starting to be dispelled. I look forward to the more possibilities of lightness in the future.