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The date was set for September 17th in the year of the Dragon 2024. It was Luna Eclipse a time of intense and immense emotional healing, the perfect time to begin my research and development of Trwsio meaning mend or fix in Welsh –  looking at what is broken and how to become whole again. The first person I chose to work with was Ruth Hogg, Ruth and I have been friends for 20 years and have had many conversations, collaborations and art-making together.  It’s also worth noting that I was six months into perimenopause at the time. For those unfamiliar, perimenopause is the transitional phase leading into menopause. Having stopped menstruating at the age of 46, it occurred to me whilst writing this, that this life stage might be a catalyst for deep processing and spiritual growth. I am stepping into an elder. What that fully means I am yet to discover. I feel like it’s a powerful change one to embrace with all my heart and courage. 

Ruth Hogg is a practice-based researcher at Aberystwyth University, with extensive expertise in arts and health. She is currently pursuing a PhD titled Gaze, which explores poly-perspectivity and multidimensionality through time-based art practice, grounded in Indigenous methodologies.

Just a week prior, I had experienced a significant emotional and physical flare-up, this would make it my 35th time since 2018. In the midst of it, I recorded myself speaking candidly to the camera, capturing my feelings of unworthiness, victimhood, self-neglect, financial worry, and the pervasive sense of lack that affected my relationships and my body. During this vulnerable time, I made a personal promise: to avoid foods my body rejected—especially overly processed or pesticide-laden ones—and most importantly to commit to self-acceptance and unconditional self-love as I believe every physical problem has a root in the mental, but as I am discovering it also has roots in other dimensions and also in the body of the earth.

Yet, this promise felt overwhelming. Even so-called “healthy” shops and cafés often stocked products filled with unnatural ingredients, pesticides, and hidden sugars. It seemed nearly impossible to avoid these things completely, and self-doubt crept in. I would catch myself saying, “Oh, it’s just a little; I’ll be fine.” But the negative ego—the “anti-life virus” within me—was still strong, shaped by the traumas I’ve experienced throughout my life and by the false matrix we all inhabit. (I’ll delve into this concept further in the future, as it’s a theme I am exploring through my movement practice.) My inner child, meanwhile, felt neglected and unloved.

This sense of being ungrounded felt deeply wrong in my being. I refuse to believe that God intended for these mind viruses, illnesses, and disconnects to exist on Earth. Over the years, I have spent countless hours in meditation, lovingly sitting with these parts of myself—especially with my womb—seeking coherence and union with the divine life force, or prana. I work to weave truth from that sacred place, allowing it to flow through me, bringing healing and restoration.

Still, this process is far from complete. Every day, I recommit to aligning myself with my truth and with God. It’s not easy. The Earth itself is deeply traumatized—polluted, plagued by wars, and weighed down by centuries of harm. It’s difficult to articulate, but I believe our bodies are intrinsically connected to the Earth. We are not separate from it; we are part of it. This idea is something I hope to explore further in my art.

Despite the challenges, there is hope. In my spiritual journey, I have come to understand an energy called Aurora—a force from the Source that is here to rehabilitate both the Earth and our bodies. As we face and identify our traumas, this energy meets us, supporting our healing and restoration.

This journey of uncovering and healing trauma isn’t a quick fix, but it is a path I remain committed to walking.

Yet, this promise felt overwhelming. Even so-called “healthy” shops and cafés often stocked products filled with unnatural ingredients, pesticides, and hidden sugars. It seemed nearly impossible to avoid these things completely, and self-doubt crept in. I would catch myself saying, “Oh, it’s just a little; I’ll be fine.” But the negative ego—the “anti-life virus” within me—was still strong, shaped by the traumas I’ve experienced throughout my life and by the false matrix we all inhabit. (I’ll delve into this concept further in the future, as it’s a theme I am exploring through my movement practice.) My inner child, meanwhile, felt neglected and unloved.

This sense of being ungrounded felt deeply wrong in my being. I refuse to believe that God intended for these mind viruses, illnesses, and disconnects to exist on Earth. Over the years, I have spent countless hours in meditation, lovingly sitting with these parts of myself—especially with my womb—seeking coherence and union with the divine life force, or prana. I work to weave truth from that sacred place, allowing it to flow through me, bringing healing and restoration.

Still, this process is far from complete. Every day, I recommit to aligning myself with my truth and with God. It’s not easy. The Earth itself is deeply traumatized—polluted, plagued by wars, and weighed down by centuries of harm. It’s difficult to articulate, but I believe our bodies are intrinsically connected to the Earth. We are not separate from it; we are part of it. This idea is something I hope to explore further in my art.

Despite the challenges, there is hope. In my spiritual journey, I have come to understand an energy called Aurora—a force from the Source that is here to rehabilitate both the Earth and our bodies. As we face and identify our traumas, this energy meets us, supporting our healing and restoration.

This journey of uncovering and healing trauma isn’t a quick fix, but it is a path I remain committed to walking and exploring through my art .

it’s a lifelong process and I am committed to it every day as soon as I wake up until the moment I sleep. Every day, I peel back another layer, like the layers of an onion—a metaphor I first encountered from a homoeopathy student in 2004, the same year I learned about water’s capacity to hold frequency, memory, and the healing power of “like for like.” Water and how it carries consciousness. I will be speaking more about this also in the future as there is a lot to say. 

For now, let’s get back to my mini-residency with Ruth, I spent four days in Aberystwyth. My partner dropped me off in Aberaeron, a picturesque seaside town known for its colourful houses. Ruth picked me up there, and we began our journey with a visit to a local gallery, Gwyn, which featured a beautiful exhibition of local artists. Aberaeron holds special significance for me—it’s where my first daughter, Sofia, was born. She has been the light of my life for 15 years, transforming me for the better. Her father also profoundly shaped me; though our relationship was challenging, I now see those difficulties as a sort of initiation necessary for my growth and contribution to humanity, I like the idea that I had to experience these traumas so I can bring the medicine in to heal it and come back into homeostasis ( balance).

Creating this art piece had been a long-held dream, seven years in the making since March 2018. Recently, a friend complimented me on my commitment to this project. “It was intentional,” I replied. “It simply took that long to crystalize the idea and learn what I needed to learn and how I was going to bring it into a gallery or a performance space.”

Ruth’s diverse expertise—spanning mental health, psychology, well-being, and arts research—aligned seamlessly with my project. Her focus on multidimensionality and poly-perspectivity complemented my exploration of integrating spiritual practices into sacred spaces. 

Returning to my recent flare-up where I was in agony for 6 hours throwing up, I was intent on delving into my inner world to seek guidance. Ruth and I decided to visit the ocean in Aberystwyth, a setting and element deeply connected to my process. Having previously worked together on site-specific performance art (our last collaboration was at a river and is available on YouTube), we wanted to create a ritualistic interaction with the ocean—approaching it with care, respect, and an awareness of its sacredness. We also decided to film the experience.

The interaction was deeply intuitive and sacred. During the filming, I expressed gratitude and sought purification from the low-frequency thoughts lingering in my body. The experience was profoundly moving, and I felt held by the water. Watching the film later, it almost seemed I was in direct communication with the ocean. And in my eyes I was, but in normal society, this is something that has been taken away, removed from our awareness keeping us below a frequency fence that stops us from communicating with god/divine/whatever you call it, I like to refer to it as a masculine and a female force the Mother/ father god  This moment was incredibly special, yet I believe such a connection with water is accessible to everyone.

The morning of my first night at Ruth’s, I felt incredibly humbled and filled with gratitude for the opportunity to dedicate myself for 4 days to this process, and whenever I have worked on this project it has felt more like a calling than work, all made possible by the Arts Council of Wales. 

I visited the National Library of Wales in Aberystwyth the following day to delve into the “Blue Books”—the commissioners’ report on Welsh education from 1847. These reports, infamous for their controversial portrayal of Welsh culture and education, are an essential part of understanding the historical context of my work, my family heritage, the heritage of my grandmother the owner of the teapot, and my maternal lineage, which I believe was instrumental in the reason I don’t speak Welsh. The library’s impressive architecture always inspires me, and the reading room provided the perfect setting for this deep dive into history.

Getting to see the books wasn’t as straightforward as I had hoped. They couldn’t find them in the archive and instead brought out a book of poems—ironically, in Welsh. If I had been alive in 1887, I would have spoken Welsh like the majority of people living in Wales. But I grew up in an English-speaking town called Abercarn in the South Wales Valley where I wasn’t taught a single word of Welsh. Not only that, I learned nothing about the myths or songs of Wales, which are as old, if not older, than the pyramids.

This deep sense of loss and fragmented connection to Welsh culture has been with me since childhood. However, I lacked the drive to truly pursue it until I turned thirty-two. It was then, after the birth of my daughter, that I began learning the Welsh language.

Despite my efforts, even after 15 years, I still can’t speak it fluently. I likely would have progressed further had I not given up when it became too difficult—due to illness, a lack of motivation after the birth of my second child, and limited opportunities to immerse myself in Welsh culture. I didn’t surround myself with Welsh-speaking friends or embrace Welsh music; it felt like a world I had resigned myself to believe wouldn’t be part of my life. While I do have Welsh-speaking friends, we often default to English, as it’s easier for me.

This experience highlights how vital a living culture is to the survival of a language. A language thrives when there is a vibrant culture to immerse oneself in. Without that cultural connection, sustaining the motivation to learn and use the language becomes significantly more challenging.

 This residency marked a significant first step in my journey, blending personal healing, artistic exploration, and historical inquiry in ways that felt profoundly interconnected.

Pennwyd y dyddiad, 17eg Medi ym mlwyddyn y Ddraig 2024. Roedd hin eclips ar y lleuad, cyfnod o iachâd emosiynol dwys ac aruthrol, yr amser perffaith i ddechrau fy ymchwil a’r gwaith datblygu ar Trwsio – yn ystyried beth sy wedi torri a sut i roi pethau at ei gilydd unwaith eto. Y person cyntaf i mi ddewis gweithio gyda hi oedd Ruth Hogg. Mae Ruth a minnau wedi bod yn ffrindiau ers 20 mlynedd ac wedi sgwrsio, cydweithio a chreu celf yn helaeth gyda’n gilydd.  Mae’n werth nodi hefyd fy mod i’n mynd drwy’r perimenopos ers chwe mis ar y pryd. I’r rhai sy’n anghyfarwydd â’r cysyniad, perimenopos yw’r cyfnod trosiannol sy’n arwain at y menopos. Wedi i fy mislif ddod i ben pan o’n i’n 46 oed, fe ystyriais wrth ysgrifennu’r geiriau hyn y gallai’r cyfnod hwn o fy mywyd fod yn sbardun ar gyfer prosesu dwfn a thwf ysbrydol. Rwy’n camu i rôl un o’r hynafiaid. Beth yw ystyr hynny’n llawn, mae hynny’n rhywbeth i mi ei ddarganfod o hyd. I mi mae’n teimlo’n newid pwerus, un i’w gofleidio’n ddewr â’m holl galon. 

Mae Ruth Hogg yn ymchwilydd-ymarferydd ym Mhrifysgol Aberystwyth, ag arbenigedd helaeth ym maes y celfyddydau ac iechyd. Ar hyn o bryd mae hi’n gwneud gradd doethuriaeth yn dwyn y teitl Gaze, sy’n archwilio aml-bersbectifrwydd ac amlddimensiynoldeb drwy gyfrwng ymarfer celf seiliedig ar amser, wedi’i wreiddio ym methodolegau diwylliannau Brodorol.

Ond wythnos cyn hynny, fe roeddwn wedi dioddef pwl emosiynol a chorfforol sylweddol. Hwn oedd y 35ain tro ers 2018. Ynghanol hyn, recordiais fy hun yn siarad yn onest â’r camera, gan roi ar gof a chadw fy nheimladau o fod yn annheilwng, yn ddioddefwr, o fy esgeuluso fy hun, fy mhryderon ariannol, a’r teimlad cyson o ddiffyg a oedd yn effeithio ar fy mherthnasoedd a’m corff. Yn ystod yr amser bregus hwn, fe wnes addewid â’m hunan: osgoi bwydydd roedd fy nghorff yn eu gwrthod – yn enwedig rhai wedi’u gor-brosesu neu’n cynnwys plaladdwyr – ac yn bwysicaf oll, ymroi i fy nerbyn fy hun a fy ngharu fy hun, am fy mod i’n gryf o’r farn bod gan bob problem gorfforol wraidd yn y meddwl, ond fel rwy’n ei ddarganfod mae ganddynt wreiddiau hefyd mewn dimensiynau eraill fel sydd ganddynt yng nghorff y ddaear.

Eto i gyd, roedd yr addewid hwn yn teimlo’n feichus. Roedd hyd yn oed siopau a chaffis “iach”, fel maen nhw’n aml yn cael eu galw, yn gwerthu cynhyrchion sy’n llawn cynhwysion annaturiol, plaladdwyr a mathau o siwgr cudd. Ymddangosai’n amhosibl bron osgoi’r pethau hyn yn llwyr, ac yn araf bach dechreuais amau fy hun. Byddwn yn dal fy hun yn dweud, “O, dim ond dipyn bach yw e; bydda i’n iawn.” Ond roedd yr ego negyddol – y “feirws gwrth-fywyd” o fy mewn – yn dal yn gryf, wedi’i siapio gan y trawmas rwy wedi’u profi trwy gydol fy oes a chan y matrics ffug rydyn ni i gyd yn byw ynddo. (Fe fydda i’n trafod y cysyniad hwn yn fwy manwl yn y dyfodol, gan ei fod yn thema rwy’n ei harchwilio yn fy ymarfer symudiad.) Yn y cyfamser, teimlai fy mhlentyn mewnol ei fod yn cael ei esgeuluso, roedd yn galw am ei garu.

Roedd yr ymdeimlad hwn o fod heb ddaear gadarn o dan fy nhraed yn teimlo’n anghywir ym mêr fy esgyrn. Rwy’n gwrthod credu bod Duw wedi bwriadu i’r firysau hyn yn y meddwl, yr afiechydon a’r diffyg cysylltiad, fodoli ar y Ddaear. Dros y blynyddoedd, rwy wedi treulio oriau di-ri mewn myfyrdod, yn eistedd gyda’r rhannau hyn o fy hun – yn enwedig fy nghroth – yn ceisio undod â grym dwyfol bywyd, neu prana. Rwy’n gweithio i wau gwirionedd o’r man sanctaidd hwnnw, gan ganiatáu iddo lifo trwof fi, gan ddod ag iachâd ac adferiad.

Eto i gyd, mae’r broses hon ymhell o fod yn gyflawn. Bob dydd, rwy’n ymroi unwaith eto i fyw mewn undod â’m gwirionedd ac â Duw. Nid peth rhwydd mohono. Mae’r Ddaear ei hun wedi dioddef trawma enbyd – wedi’i llygru, ei phlagio gan ryfeloedd, ac yn teimlo baich canrifoedd o ddifrod. Mae’n anodd mynegi, ond rwy o’r farn bod ein cyrff wedi’u cysylltu’n glòs ​​â’r Ddaear. Nid pethau ar wahân mohonon n; rydyn ni’n rhan ohoni. Mae’r syniad hwn yn rhywbeth rwy’n gobeithio’i archwilio ymhellach yn fy ngwaith celf.

Er gwaethaf yr heriau, mae yna obaith. Ar hyd fy nhaith ysbrydol, rwy wedi dod i ddeall math o egni sy’n cael ei alw’n Aurora – grym o’r Ffynhonnell sydd yma i adsefydlu’r Ddaear ynghyd â’n cyrff. Wrth i ni wynebu ac enwi’n trawmas, mae’r egni hwn yn dod i’n cyfarfod, gan gefnogi’n hiachâd a’n hadferiad.

Ar y daith hon o ddadlennu ac iacháu trawma nid oes datrysiad cyflym, ond mae’n llwybr rwy wedi ymroi i’w droedio o hyd.

Mae’n broses gydol oes ac rwy wedi ymroi iddi bob dydd, o’r eiliad rwy’n deffro tan y munudau olaf cyn cysgu. Bob dydd, rwy’n pilio haen arall yn ôl, fel haenau winwnsyn – trosiad y clywais amdano am y tro cyntaf gan fyfyriwr homeopathi yn 2004, yr un flwyddyn y dysgais am allu dŵr i ddal amledd, cof, a phŵer iachau “tebyg i debyg”. Dŵr a sut mae’n cario ymwybyddiaeth. Fe fydda i’n siarad mwy am hyn hefyd yn y dyfodol gan fod yna lawer i’w ddweud. 

Am y tro, gadewch i ni fynd yn ôl at fy mhreswyliad byr gyda Ruth. Fe dreuliais i bedwar diwrnod yn Aberystwyth. Fe adawodd fy mhartner fi yn Aberaeron, tref glan môr bert sy’n adnabyddus am ei thai lliwgar. Fe gododd Ruth fi yno, ac fe ddechreuon ni ar ein taith gydag ymweliad ag oriel leol, Gwyn, a oedd yn dangos arddangosfa hyfryd o artistiaid lleol. Mae Aberaeron yn arbennig o arwyddocaol i mi – dyma lle ganwyd fy merch gyntaf, Sofia. Mae hi wedi bod yn gannwyll fy mywyd ers 15 mlynedd, gan fy nhrawsnewid er gwell. Fe siapiodd ei thad fi’n aruthrol hefyd; er bod ein perthynas yn heriol, gallaf weld nawr bod yr anawsterau hynny’n rhyw fath o ddefod urddo a oedd yn angenrheidiol er mwyn i mi dyfu a chyfrannu at ddynoliaeth. Rwy’n hoffi’r syniad bod yn rhaid i mi brofi’r trawmas hyn er mwyn i mi allu canfod y feddyginiaeth i’w gwella ac ailganfod homeostasis (cydbwysedd).

Roedd creu’r darn celf hwn wedi bod yn freuddwyd ers amser maith, ar y gweill am saith mlynedd ers mis Mawrth 2018. Yn ddiweddar, canmolodd ffrind fi am fy ymroddiad i’r prosiect hwn. “Roedd yn fwriadol,” atebais. “Fe wnaeth e jest cymryd cymaint â hynny o amser i’r syniad grisialu ac i mi ddysgu beth roedd angen i mi ei ddysgu a sut ro’n i’n mynd i ddod â’r peth i oriel neu ofod perfformio.”

Roedd arbenigeddau amrywiol Ruth – sy’n rhychwantu iechyd meddwl, seicoleg, lles, a’r celfyddydau – yn cyd-fynd yn union â fy mhrosiect i. Roedd ei ffocws ar amlddimensiynoldeb ac aml-bersbectifrwydd yn ategu fy archwiliad o integreiddio arferion ysbrydol â mannau sanctaidd. 

Gan ddychwelyd at fy mhyliau diweddar lle’r oeddwn mewn poen ingol am 6 awr yn cyfogi, roeddwn i’n benderfynol o blymio i’m byd mewnol i geisio arweiniad. Penderfynodd Ruth a minnau fynd i weld y môr yn Aberystwyth, lleoliad ac elfen sydd â chysylltiad dwfn â’m proses. Ar ôl gweithio gyda’n gilydd o’r blaen ar gelf perfformio safle-benodol (y tro diwetha i ni gydweithio oedd ar afon ac mae ar gael ar YouTube), roedden ni am greu rhyngweithiad defodol â’r môr – gan fynd ati gyda gofal, parch, ac ymwybyddiaeth o’i sancteiddrwydd. Fe benderfynon ni ffilmio’r profiad hefyd.

Roedd y rhyngweithiad yn arbennig o reddfol a sanctaidd. Yn ystod y ffilmio, mynegais ddiolchgarwch a cheisiais fy mhuro fy hun o’r meddyliau a oedd yn loetran yn fy nghorff. Roedd y profiad yn arbennig o deimladwy, ac roeddwn yn teimlo bod y dŵr yn fy nal. Wrth wylio’r ffilm yn ddiweddarach, roedd yn ymddangos bron fel fy mod mewn cysylltiad uniongyrchol â’r môr. Ac yn fy llygaid i, mi roeddwn i, ond mewn cymdeithas arferol, mae hyn yn rhywbeth sydd wedi’i dynnu oddi wrthon ni, wedi’i wthio o’n hymwybyddiaeth gan ein cadw o dan ffens amledd sy’n ein hatal rhag cyfathrebu â duw/y dwyfol/beth bynnag yw’ch enw chi arno, rwy’n hoffi cyfeirio ato fel grym gwrywaidd a benywaidd y duw Mamol/Tadol. Roedd hon yn foment tu hwnt o arbennig, ond rwy o’r farn bod cysylltiad o’r fath â dŵr ar gael i bawb.

Ar fore fy noson gyntaf gyda Ruth, roeddwn yn teimlo’n hynod o ddiolchgar am y cyfle i ymroi am 4 diwrnod i’r broses hon, a phryd bynnag rwy wedi gweithio ar y prosiect hwn mae wedi teimlo’n fwy fel galwedigaeth na gwaith, y cyfan yn bosib diolch i Gyngor Celfyddydau Cymru. 

Ymwelais â Llyfrgell Genedlaethol Cymru yn Aberystwyth y diwrnod canlynol i blymio i hanes y “Llyfrau Gleision” – adroddiad y comisiynwyr ar addysg yng Nghymru o 1847. Mae’r adroddiadau hyn, sy’n ddrwgenwog am eu portread dadleuol o ddiwylliant ac addysg Cymru, yn hanfodol ar gyfer deall cyd-destun hanesyddol fy ngwaith, treftadaeth fy nheulu, treftadaeth fy mam-gu, sef perchennog y tebot, ynghyd â llinach fy mam, ac maen nhw’n rhan allweddol, yn fy marn i, o’r darlun wrth ystyried pam nad ydw i’n siarad Cymraeg. Mae pensaernïaeth drawiadol y llyfrgell bob amser yn fy ysbrydoli, ac roedd yr ystafell ddarllen yn lleoliad perffaith ar gyfer plymio’n ddwfn i hanes.

Nid oedd gweld y llyfrau yn fater mor hawdd ag ro’n i wedi’i obeithio. Allen nhw ddim dod o hyd iddyn nhw yn yr archif ac yn lle hynny fe ddaethon nhw â llyfr o gerddi i mi – yn eironig ddigon, yn Gymraeg. Pe bawn i wedi bod yn fyw yn 1887, baswn i wedi siarad Cymraeg fel y rhan fwyaf o bobl a oedd yn byw yng Nghymru ar y pryd. Ond cefais fy magu mewn tref Saesneg ei hiaith o’r enw Abercarn yn un o gymoedd de Cymru lle na ddysgodd neb yr un gair o Gymraeg i mi. Nid yn unig hynny, ddysgais i ddim am chwedlau na chaneuon Cymru, sydd mor hen, os nad yn hŷn, na’r pyramidiau.

Mae’r ymdeimlad dwfn hwn o golled a’r cysylltiad tameidiog â diwylliant Cymru wedi bod gyda mi ers fy mhlentyndod. Fodd bynnag, nid oedd gen i’r cymhelliant i’w archwilio go iawn tan i mi droi’n dri deg dwy oed. Yr adeg honno, wedi genedigaeth fy merch, y dechreuais ddysgu’r Gymraeg.

Er gwaethaf fy ymdrechion, hyd yn oed wedi 15 mlynedd, does gen i ddim rhuglder yn y Gymraeg. Mae’n debyg y baswn i wedi gwneud gwell cynnydd taswn i heb roi’r gorau pan aeth yn rhy anodd – oherwydd salwch, diffyg cymhelliant wedi genedigaeth fy ail blentyn, a diffyg cyfleoedd i ymgolli yn niwylliant y Gymraeg. Wnes i ddim amgylchynu fy hun gyda ffrindiau Cymraeg eu hiaith nac ymddiddori mewn cerddoriaeth Gymraeg; roedd yn teimlo fel byd roeddwn i eisoes wedi derbyn na fyddai’n rhan o fy mywyd. Er bod gen i ffrindiau sy’n siarad Cymraeg, rydyn ni’n aml yn troi’n ddifeddwl at y Saesneg, am ei fod yn haws i mi.

Mae’r profiad hwn yn tanlinellu pa mor hanfodol yw diwylliant byw i oroesiad iaith. Bydd iaith yn ffynnu pan fo diwylliant bywiog i ymgolli ynddo. Heb y cysylltiad diwylliannol hwnnw, mae cynnal y cymhelliant i ddysgu a defnyddio’r iaith yn llawer mwy heriol.

 Roedd y cyfnod preswyl hwn yn gam cyntaf arwyddocaol ar fy nhaith, yn cyfuno iachâd personol, archwiliad artistig, ac ymholiad hanesyddol mewn ffyrdd a deimlai eu bod wedi’u cydblethu’n sylweddol