As a child, my closest friends were always girls. In my teens, I had boyfriends and the occasional boy ‘mate’ though it never really lasted.
I moved into my 20s, became a mother, and fell prey to the patriarchal system that will shamelessly snap a woman’s job away when she gives birth.
I know, now, that I should have blamed the patriarchy. But instead, I blamed men.
So I remained close to my female friends (and my husband), but didn’t seek friendships with males.
And I committed to only reading books written by women; engaging with the work of female artists; writing for women and coaching them.
I’d write feminist articles for the Guardian, and feminist poems that I shared on Instagram. I wanted to stand up for women, because I felt I’d been done-over myself.
Power in numbers - and in solidarity - I thought.
And then I started writing about SQ (spiritual quotient) and how raising your SQ can transform your life.
I’d used spiritual tools and practices for both career goals and to feel better in myself - body/mind/spirit.
Again, I sought out female spiritual gurus, leaders and practitioners to learn from, because whenever I came across men in this space, it felt so masculine.
The male breathwork practitioners all seemed to be wearing tight vests, have bulging muscles and approach spirituality like an army basecamp.
Fast, furious, quick results etc.
I very much believe that we all need a balance of the feminine and the masculine.
A combination of softness, collaboration, kindness and nurturing with risk-taking, high energy, fury and fire.
But I think that when it comes to spirituality - and SQ - a more feminine approach (for all genders) would be beneficial.
This means being open-minded, listening, paying attention, observing, getting curious, playful, exploring, going slowly and sharing with others.
Connecting with spirit isn’t an INSTANT RESULTS game.
It’s a slow, enquiring and exciting journey that will teach you about yourself, the world and others.
However, I’m beginning to challenge my own assumptions about men and SQ.
The first sign that I was getting it wrong appeared much like those pretty flowers that peep up through cracks in the pavement.
I felt concrete in my beliefs about men, spirituality and the fact that even if they were spiritual, they were doing it all wrong.
But then I got talking with a guy in his 20s.
He told me that in the pandemic, while furloughed, he was drinking loads of booze, going to bed in the early hours of the morning and then rising in the afternoon.
It was fun, he said, but exhausting as well.
Soon, he’d had enough.
He started to seek more meaning in his days - and his life, in general - so he started meditating, creating daily ‘SQ’ rituals and reading books by spiritual leaders.
His life began to feel calmer, and more meaningful.
He got a new job.
We talked about his creative dreams that he’s pursuing in his spare time.
He asked me about mine, too.
This conversation reminded me that men who bravely break away from the pressure to be only masculine - and welcome in the feminine, too - seem whole.
And that men who delve into spirituality in an authentic way will often be more open, kind and easy to connect with, platonically.
I realised that my misconception had been warped by my own experiences of mistreatment by men.
And yet I’m married to a brilliant, kind, creative man.
Though, interestingly, when I started writing my new book ‘Raise your SQ: Transform your life with spiritual intelligence’ - Rich, my husband, told me that he wasn’t spiritual.
I took his hand and began to lead him down a new path. It wasn’t planned, it was entirely intuitive. But I knew he was spiritual really, he just didn’t know it yet.
So we went to a breathwork session, and he absolutely loved it.
He started meditating and connecting more with nature (listening to the birds; admiring the trees; remembering his love of fire).
A few months later, he said that actually, maybe he was a bit spiritual.
My dad is one of the most naturally spiritual people I know. Though he wouldn’t necessarily describe himself as such.
He is full of hope, optimism, kindness and generosity. He sees the good in people. He trusts in the journey of life. And his dad was the same.
My brother is as well, and his sons will be too. A paternal lineage of naturally spiritual men.
And I’m raising two boys myself (aged six and three).
Together, we lay our palms on a favourite red cedar tree asking for protection. We collect gemstones. We wish on white feathers and dandelions.
Every time we pass a church, my older son asks to go in. He has developed a love of the peace and stained glass, pews and prayer cushions.
We aren’t religious but we respect other people’s beliefs.
And we are creating our own SQ practices - largely around respecting the Earth, and its inhabitants.
Sometimes women ask me how to find other spiritually-engaged people to connect with. And I think they usually mean women.
This was a question I used to ask myself, when I felt I’d like to be going to women’s circles and on spiritual retreats but I wasn’t sure who to go - or talk about it - with.
Not many of my close friends seemed very interested.
So I started going alone.
I’d also look for signs of spiritual-connection in new people I met, and I chose to pursue closer friendships with those who were into it.
But I’ve always been wary of spiritual retreats or classes run by men.
For me, these vulnerable spaces and practices need to be led by women, and I actually prefer that it’s only women attending as well.
It’s a personal preference but it’s one that I’m not ready to budge on.
When I read some snippets from an article in the Times this weekend about abuse by men posing as spiritual gurus, I was saddened but not surprised.
So my own boundaries remains firm on this.
But I am becoming increasingly committed to encouraging the males who are already in my life to engage with spiritual practices.
And it’s working.
However, I believe it requires a different approach.
Here’s what I would recommend to those keen to encourage the men in their lives to raise their SQ…