As a child, one phrase left a lasting impression on me: “Mind over matter.”

It was something my grandfather often said, a curious saying that puzzled me but would later profoundly shape my perspective on life.

 

My grandfather worked with psychiatric patients, including high-profile figures like Ronnie Kray, the notorious criminal deemed insane. During my early childhood, he was employed at Claybury Hospital, a facility recognized by Historic England as one of the most significant asylums built in England after 1875. Claybury earned international acclaim for its psychiatric research, innovative treatments, and compassionate care.

 

After school, the bus would drop my siblings and me outside the gates of the asylum. We often visited my grandfather, and even as a child, I could sense that the patients experienced the world differently from what most people considered “normal.” My grandmother’s words, “We are all God’s creatures,” became a cornerstone of my understanding. She taught me to treat everyone with dignity and kindness, even when others reacted with fear or judgment.

 

These early experiences sparked a deep curiosity about the brain the enigmatic “gray matter” and how the mind works. When my grandfather passed away when I was just eight years old, I found myself reflecting on the things he used to say, particularly that mysterious phrase, “Mind over Matter.”

 

As a child, I associated it with the movie Matilda. In one scene, Matilda discovers she can move objects with her mind, and I imagined the phrase referred to a similar kind of supernatural power. Over time, though, I began to wonder if it meant something deeper,perhaps a connection between our intelligence and a greater universal intelligence, one capable of influencing our lives and surroundings in profound ways.

 

My grandmother, Nan, was my best friend growing up. While I had many close friends in primary school—some of whom are still part of my life today—Nan was my anchor. She was the person I admired most, and her personality is still something I strive to emulate.

 

Looking back, I can see that my earliest attempts to escape reality—and perhaps the beginnings of my healing journey—started in those years. Even as a child in primary school, I would sneak into Nan’s cupboard and take a small shot of alcohol. At the time, I didn’t understand why I was doing it. Only now, after years of healing work, do I realize I was trying to numb uncomfortable feelings I didn’t yet have the tools to process.

 

These moments from my past matter because they set me on the path I walk today. Now, at nearly 40 years old, I reflect on how far I’ve come. Only in recent years have I truly transformed my life—learning to see challenges as opportunities for growth and to feel genuine gratitude for the hardships I’ve faced.

 

This journey of understanding and strengthening the connection between the mind and body has become a central part of who I am.

 

My first experience with healing and the power of “mind over matter” began in 2016. While I wasn’t ready to fully embrace deep healing at the time, it marked a pivotal period of awakening in my life.

 

As I’ve mentioned before, I may have turned to alcohol as a way to soothe discomfort during my childhood. However, by 2015, my unhealthy coping mechanisms had reached their peak. Despite being deeply committed to my work as an electrician, my life was far from balanced.

 

Throughout the week, I worked grueling hours, leaving home as early as 4 or 5 a.m. and not returning until close to midnight. Yet when the weekend arrived, I numbed myself by drinking it away. It all caught up with me one fateful day when I fell asleep at the wheel and totaled my van. That moment hit me like a wake-up call—I couldn’t keep burning the candle at both ends.

 

Still, I was desperate for an escape. My overactive mind was relentless, and alcohol became my go-to refuge from the chaos of my home life. As time went on, my anxiety grew worse, and I felt increasingly disconnected from myself.

 

I’ve since realized a painful truth: my lack of self-love left me unable to truly show love to others. This was a hard pill to swallow because, at the time, I genuinely believed I was trying to please everyone around me.

 

One day started like too many before it—a blur of heavy drinking and drug use the night before. I often woke up on the sofa, consumed by guilt and anxiety, vowing to myself, Never again. Yet, week after week, I broke that promise.

 

The depths of my despair were terrifying. Some nights, I was certain another line of cocaine would be my last. But within minutes of that thought, I’d find myself racking up another line. The cycle was relentless, uncontrollable, and the fear of dying loomed over me like a shadow.

 

One morning, I woke up trembling, my body a jittery mess, slumped on the sofa. I forced myself upstairs, where I found my then-wife helping our three-year-old daughter brush her teeth. My little girl turned to me mid-brush, her face lighting up as she said, “Good morning, Daddy.”

 

Used to masking my pain, I managed to reply, “Good morning, my angel.” But her innocence struck something deep within me. A sharp, aching pain took hold of my heart. I thought about how I might never see her grow up—how I was on the verge of throwing away my chance to witness her life, her achievements, her joy.

 

Overcome with emotion, I convinced myself I was having a heart attack. Panicked, I stumbled back downstairs and sat on the sofa, desperately trying to convince myself everything was fine. But the thought wouldn’t leave: What if I never see her again?

 

Terrified, I finally told my wife what was happening.

 

She snapped at me, furious at my recklessness, but quickly called an ambulance. The paramedics arrived, performed an ECG, and rushed me to the hospital, where I was monitored for an irregular heartbeat. I spent five days there under observation before discharging myself and returning home.

 

I promised my wife I would change. This time, I meant it.

 

I enrolled in a rehabilitation center called 1NE. On my first day, I paced up and down the street, passing the door over and over, searching for an excuse to turn back. Fear gripped me, but desperation finally pushed me through the door.

 

Inside, a staff member led me to a small smoking area at the back, where four or five people greeted me warmly. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a tiny spark of hope.

 

It took me a while to open up, but once I did, I felt an immense weight lift off my shoulders. I learned so many techniques—simple yet powerful changes to my life that made a lasting impact.

 

I began meditating and expanding my knowledge to better cope with what I can only describe as an illness. At first, I struggled to accept that alcoholism was an illness, but the truth was undeniable—I was unwell.

 

One turning point came when I read a book called Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself by Dr. Joe Dispenza. It opened my eyes to the true meaning of “mind over matter.” Dispenza’s story was extraordinary: after being hit by a car during a triathlon, he fractured his spine in multiple places. As a chiropractor, he knew the grim reality of his condition. Specialist after specialist across the U.S. told him he’d never walk again without invasive spinal surgery. But instead of accepting that prognosis, he visualized healing. Through meditation, he mentally reconstructed his spine, focusing on recovery with unwavering belief. Remarkably, in a short amount of time, he healed. This was the epitome of “mind over matter.”

 

I’d love to say that from this point on, I was completely healed. But the truth is, I wasn’t—and I am deeply grateful for that. Every struggle, every moment of pain and discomfort, has shaped me into the person I am today and allowed me to heal in my own way.

 

With these new techniques and a stronger understanding of “mind over matter,” I believed I was doing okay. Life felt so much better. After crashing my van as a self-employed electrician, I took a PAYE role. Sobriety brought clarity and progress—I was quickly promoted to electrical supervisor and later became an Electrical QS, overseeing programmed works.

 

But sobriety didn’t last forever. I remained alcohol-free for about six months until December 2016. My closest friends and I had a yearly tradition: the “12 Pubs of Christmas” pub crawl. Starting at a pub near our old school in Essex, we’d have a pint in each pub as we made our way back to East London. Believing I was “healed” but still a little cautious, I decided to have half a pint at each stop while my friends drank full pints. That restraint didn’t last long. After finishing my first half, I immediately ordered a full pint. Just like that, I lost control. I’d slipped back into the comfort of escape.

 

Looking back, I realize that healing is far from easy. The moment I was tempted by the familiar ease of alcohol, I gave in. Soon, I returned to regular weekend drinking, convincing myself I didn’t have a problem. But the lifestyle took its toll—again.

 

Fast forward to 2019, and I could see the damage alcohol was doing. I was in pain, and I knew it was time to act. I sought help from AA. While I have the utmost respect for their work and still occasionally attend meetings for a healthy reminder, I realized it wasn’t the right fit for me at the time. Instead, I turned my focus to fitness. A close friend and I began 5 a.m. gym sessions before work, and that discipline gave me a sense of purpose.

 

As I started to feel better, I couldn’t help but question whether I had simply replaced one addiction with another, without addressing the root of my pain. Even so, the gym brought clarity, and I made the difficult decision to file for divorce. It was a turning point—a step toward the healing I needed.

 

Selling our family home and moving back out into the world alone felt deeply traumatic. Once again, I turned to alcohol to cope. I reached a point in my life where I would drink myself into oblivion, lying down at night thinking, I’m not going to wake up from this. Worse still, there were moments when I wished I wouldn’t. Deep down, the thought of seeing my daughter grow up was the only thing that kept me from drinking myself to death.

 

My anxiety skyrocketed to unbearable levels, and I finally went to the doctor for help. The doctor asked a few routine questions and handed me a prescription for anti-anxiety tablets.

 

Ironically, though I’d been the kind of man who would snort a bag of white powder without a clue what it contained—despite knowing it was likely cut with something horrible like rat poison—I didn’t trust pharmaceutical drugs. I wouldn’t even take paracetamol, convinced they weren’t good for me.

 

Still, desperate to calm the storm inside me, I took the tablets for two days. I’d been warned they might increase my anxiety at first, but the discomfort was unbearable. I threw them in the bin. I was left feeling utterly hopeless. Even though I desperately wanted to stay alive for my daughter, I couldn’t trust my own mind. I feared that one day, in a moment of darkness, I might follow through with the terrifying thoughts of ending my own life. The nights were the worst—lying awake, consumed by worry, trapped in an endless cycle of fear.

 

I knew I needed to change. I was desperate for something—anything—that would pull me out of this downward spiral. I began searching for answers in self-help books and eventually came across The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk. This book profoundly shifted my understanding of “mind over matter” and opened my eyes to a deeper truth about trauma.

 

Van der Kolk explains that trauma isn’t just stored in the mind—it’s stored in the body. Traumatic experiences leave lasting imprints, manifesting physically as chronic pain, tension, or other symptoms, even if we’re not consciously aware of them. This insight was a game-changer for me. (You can find more details about this on my additional information page.)

 

What I learned from the book was that I needed a more focused approach. Healing requires cultivating a sense of safety and connection. Supportive relationships—whether through therapy, community, or loved ones—are essential for rebuilding trust and repairing the damage trauma inflicts on both the mind and body.

 

In essence, The Body Keeps the Score emphasizes that effective trauma treatment must address the mind and body as interconnected systems. It highlights the importance of holistic approaches that go beyond traditional talk therapy, integrating physical, emotional, and neurological components for genuine healing.

 

As I embarked on my newfound search for holistic healing, I discovered yin yoga.

Yin yoga is a slow-paced, meditative style of yoga that involves holding poses for extended periods, typically 3–5 minutes or more. Unlike other forms of yoga, it targets the deep connective tissues, fascia, ligaments, and joints rather than the muscles.

 

Almost immediately, I noticed two things. First, I was holding an incredible amount of tension in my body. Second, my mind was racing at 100 mph, thinking about a thousand things while I was trying to relax into a pose.

It became clear to me that the breath was the key to connecting my mind and body.

 

The more I practiced focusing on my breath, the more aware I became of areas of tension. I learned to consciously send my breath to these spots, releasing them little by little. Over time, this awareness extended beyond my yoga practice, allowing me to notice and address tension as it built up throughout the day.

 

After reading Think Like a Monk by Jay Shetty, one paragraph stood out to me. Shetty shared a story from his first day at monk school, where he saw a ten-year-old monk teaching five-year-olds how to breathe. Curious, Shetty asked why breathing was the first lesson. The young monk explained that breath is the only constant from birth to death; everything else—friends, family, circumstances—can change. He went on to say that our breath reflects our emotions: it shifts when we're stressed, angry, or calm. By mastering our breath, we gain a powerful tool to navigate life's challenges.

 

This teaching resonated deeply with me. It reinforced the importance of addressing the root of our experiences, not just the symptoms. By mastering the breath, we can manage our emotions and reactions, creating a more mindful and centered life.

 

With this understanding, I began to explore holistic therapies further. Looking back, I realize I was searching for a simpler path to healing, which led me to Reiki.

 

As a child, I had dismissed Reiki as “woo-woo.” My mum was a Reiki Master, and while she taught me about chakras and often burned incense or saged the house, I thought it was all ridiculous. But now, I understand the deeper purpose of these cleansing techniques.

 

My life began to shift. I met my amazing partner, who became my rock and greatest support. Over time, I became a stepdad to two wonderful girls, and my bond with my own daughter grew stronger than ever.

 

As I delved deeper into the study of energy bodies, I began to see how Reiki helps to balance energy. After experiencing Reiki for myself, I noticed both profound and subtle shifts within. These experiences enhanced my connection during yin yoga, making it even more meaningful.

 

I also started studying the philosophy of yoga in greater depth. This ancient wisdom, passed down through generations for thousands of years, opened my eyes to a richer understanding of life, healing, and self-awareness.

 

My craving for a deeper connection and understanding of inner healing led me to easily turn my back on my destructive past. I pushed aside all alcohol and intoxicating substances. When I say "easily," let me clarify, it wasn’t effortless. It came from the hard work of confronting and understanding the wounds I carried. Once I realized that my feelings were stored within my very being—my "matter"—I learned how to connect with them and release them.

 

To illustrate, think of a surface wound. If you constantly pick at it, the healing process will be painfully slow, if it heals at all. But if you tend to the wound, nurture it, and allow it to rest, it will heal much faster. That’s how inner healing felt for me—a process of deep care and patience.

 

After a few years of practicing Yin Yoga and expanding into other forms of yoga, I deepened my connection to myself. This journey ignited an overwhelming desire to help others by teaching the techniques that had transformed my life.

 

I found an amazing Reiki teacher and began my training in a small group with two other naturally gifted women. Together, we completed our first level and reunited as a group for each subsequent stage of training. Once I was fully certified, I began offering Reiki at a reduced rate to reach as many people as possible. The positive feedback I received and the balance I witnessed in others' lives inspired me to take my next step: yoga teacher training.

 

Although I had been practicing asanas—the physical postures of yoga—it was my passion for yoga philosophy that truly drove me to explore more deeply. This path led me to the lush rice fields of Ubud, Bali, for my training.

 

I cannot express how incredible the experience was. The teachers were phenomenal, and my fellow students formed a community that made the journey even more enriching. The experience was life-changing, though it wasn’t without challenges. On the first day, I questioned if I was ready for the transformation ahead. I wondered if I should just enjoy a month on the island instead. But that night, something shifted—a profound awakening stirred within me. By the end of the second day, I felt amazing.

 

Our days were full yet purposeful. We journaled, practiced pranayama, yoga asanas, alignment, and meditation. We studied philosophy, anatomy, and participated in workshops. We ate together, spent time together, and grew into a close-knit family.

 

Before arriving, I believed I had been doing "enough" self-work, but I quickly realized I had never worked on myself so intensively. By the end of the first week, I was already planning to head straight to India for another teacher training in an alternative practice. Each day deepened my craving for discovery.

 

The training was tough—gruelling, even—but each day brought more growth. By the third week, I no longer wanted to leave. Yet, I soon learned that the biggest challenge wasn’t the training itself but returning to "normal" life in the UK.

 

Upon returning to the UK, I felt deeply inspired to share my teachings. I wanted everyone to experience the profound healing power of understanding themselves better and improving their lives through these practices.

 

While many in the West have heard of yoga, I realized that not everyone is aware of the depth it offers. To bridge this gap, I began adapting what I had learned to cater to different levels of understanding. This approach transformed the practice for me, making it even more meaningful.

 

Reflecting on my journey, I asked myself: What else could I learn to help others the way these teachings had helped me? This question led me to another remarkable discovery. Alongside the knowledge I had gained about releasing held emotions in the body, I found an amazing teacher—second in lineage to the master who pioneered Ayurvedic Yoga Massage.

 

During my training, I witnessed firsthand the incredible benefits of this practice. It not only aids in healing but also promotes relaxation, restores energy balance, and nurtures overall well-being.

(For more details, head to my additional information page.)

 

Today, I am thrilled to offer individual services in Reiki, Yoga (including all eight limbs), and Ayurvedic Yoga Massage. Additionally, I provide combined services and retreat packages tailored to your needs.

 

This was the beginning of my journey toward healing, a journey that has not only taught me the true meaning of 'Mind over Matter' but also allowed me to help others find balance and healing in their lives.

If any part of my story resonates with you or if you would simply like to learn more, I would be truly honoured to hear from you.

 

With gratitude and blessings 

Kevin 🙏❤️

 

 

I understands that every individual’s journey is unique, and my approach to healing reflects that. As a certified yoga teacher, Reiki practitioner and Ayervedic Yoga Masseur, I offer personalized sessions tailored specifically to the needs of each person. Whether someone is struggling with addiction, feeling overwhelmed by a busy lifestyle, dealing with discomfort in their life, or simply seeking a deeper connection to themselves, I work to create a space where true healing can begin.

For those interested in yoga, I offer one-on-one sessions that range from purely physical Asana practice to a more holistic exploration of the 8 limbs of yoga (Ashtanga). Depending on the individual’s needs, I might focus on guiding them through physical postures (Asanas) that help strengthen and align the body, or incorporate breathwork (Pranayama), meditation (Dhyana), and ethical principles (Yamas and Niyamas) to support mental and emotional balance. My approach to yoga is not one-size-fits-all, I listen closely to what each person needs, offering a practice that supports their personal goals and healing process.

In addition to yoga, my Reiki practice adds another layer of support, addressing the energetic body. For those dealing with emotional blockages, anxiety, or past trauma, Reiki can help clear stagnant energy and promote a sense of peace and alignment. I intuitively combine Reiki with yoga in my sessions, recognizing that physical, mental, and energetic healing are deeply interconnected. Additionally Ayervedic Yoga Massage working with my hands and feet to assist with deep release held within the body.

Whether a client chooses Reiki, yoga, massage or a blend of all, I ensure that the session aligns with their current state and intention.

My ultimate goal is to create a customized healing experience for every individual I work with. I am especially compassionate toward those who, like me, have struggled with addiction or the stresses of a busy life. My journey gives me deep empathy and insight into the challenges people face, and I draw on my own healing experiences to help others. Whether someone is seeking relief from life’s pressures, healing from deeper wounds, or simply looking to enhance their personal growth, I craft sessions that are as unique as the person in front of me.