by Srila Devi | 6. October 2026 | All Posts, Healing, Reflections, Restorative Justice, Social systems, Trauma
I spent the last week in Belfast, Northern Ireland, attending a restorative justice conference centred on the theme of complexity. In preparation for the trip, I immersed myself in Irish history, particularly the period known as the Troubles. I remembered those years...
by Srila Devi | 21. September 2026 | All Posts, Authenticity, Healing, Personal Transformation, Reflections, Trauma
A while ago, I read Gisèle Pelicot’s extraordinary memoir A Hymn to Life, and it left me in a deeply reflective mood. It is easy to sensationalise her experience: A woman was repeatedly drugged by her husband and raped by dozens of men whom he had explicitly invited...
by Srila Devi | 28. July 2026 | All Posts, Healing, Personal Transformation, Reflections, Restorative Justice, Social systems, Trauma
A couple of weeks ago, I attended an event hosted by A Band of Brothers, a charity that provides mentoring for young men facing adversity and supports them through rites of passage into responsible, fulfilling adulthood. The organisation works particularly with young...
by Srila Devi | 29. June 2026 | All Posts, Personal Transformation, Reflections, Trauma
Recently, an old friend shared with me that he had been reflecting on what personal growth actually means. “Where does something develop from, and in which direction? How much can people really change? Is there an unchangeable core to a person, or is everything up for...
by Srila Devi | 18. May 2026 | All Posts, Healing, Personal Transformation, Reflections, Social systems, Trauma
Last year, I had a number of interactions that made me reflect deeply on the concept of emotional maturity: what it is, and why it seems to be so rare in a world that appears more reactive than ever. A brief glance at modern politics often feels like watching the...
by Srila Devi | 3. March 2026 | Healing, Personal Transformation, Reflections, Trauma
In my thirties, I dated a talented visual artist for a while. One day, I asked him what had made him become a painter. He paused, looked at me pensively, and said, “Love. It was because of love.” Thinking he meant his love of art or colour, I nodded. But he continued....
