Who holds the space
Founder · Certified Trauma-Informed Somatic Healing & Activation Facilitator
Gigi is a Kundalini, somatic and breathwork facilitator, senior litigation lawyer, business owner, and mother of three.
Her work sits at the intersection of the practical and the profound. Alongside a successful legal career and business, she has spent years immersed in practices that support nervous system regulation, self-inquiry, and personal transformation — including Kundalini, meditation, breathwork, tarot, sauna, ceremony, and a sustained commitment to sobriety and conscious self-development.
Based between Sydney and Bali, Gigi works with people who are seeking something deeper than performance, productivity, or self-improvement. Her approach is grounded, accessible, and deeply human. This practice, in her hands, is not an escape from life but a return to it — a modality for reconnecting with the body, the breath, and the intuitive self that exists beneath conditioning, expectation, and noise.
A lover of mountains and the ocean, she is as at home on a snowboard as she is in the sea. Her facilitation reflects the same qualities she values in life: courage, vulnerability, presence, curiosity, freedom, and a willingness to meet what is real.
She continues to practise law; Anima is not her livelihood but her love. She facilitates because she believes in this work — and gives every session her whole heart.
In my words
I have lived a big, messy, beautiful life — and it continues.
For a long time, I believed my value came from being strong. Strong enough to hold everything together. Strong enough to care for everyone else. Strong enough to survive whatever life placed in front of me. And in many ways, I did.
I built a successful business. I raised a family. I navigated challenges that asked more of me than I thought I had to give. I became the person others turned to when they needed support, guidance, or certainty.
But beneath that strength was a quieter truth. I was exhausted — not physically, but spiritually. I had spent so much of my life taking care of everyone else that I had lost connection with myself. Like so many of us, I became exceptionally skilled at coping. At performing. At achieving. At carrying. What I wasn't doing was allowing myself to truly feel.
I have buried my father. I have watched my mother descend into illness. I have ended a marriage — and lived the particular grief of breaking up my boys' family, parenting them now as a single mother. I have faced diagnoses I never asked for and walked through seasons that demanded more courage than I knew I possessed. I have also experienced the quiet loneliness of discovering that some of the people you expect to stand beside you cannot meet you where you are when life becomes difficult. For much of that journey, I felt profoundly alone.
And yet, somehow, I rebuilt. Not once, but many times. Each experience stripped away another layer of certainty, identity, expectation, or control. Each asked me to surrender more deeply to life as it was, rather than as I wished it would be.
What I discovered was not strength in the way I had understood it before. Not endurance. Not resilience. Something quieter — a deeper trust in myself. A knowing that even when everything around me changed, there was something within me that remained whole.
This practice entered my life not because I was looking for another modality or another qualification. It entered my life because I was ready for a different way of living.
Less about control, more about trust.
Less about striving, more about surrender.
Less about becoming someone new, more about remembering who I had always been.
Through this work, I discovered that healing is not the absence of pain. It is the willingness to meet ourselves fully within it.
Beneath grief there can be love.
Beneath heartbreak there can be wisdom.
Beneath fear there can be freedom.
Today, I hold space for others because I know what it feels like to be disconnected from yourself — to carry the weight of responsibility, expectation, heartbreak, and loss. I know what it feels like to be the strong one. And I know the profound relief that comes when you finally allow yourself to put the armour down.
My role is not to heal you. My role is not to fix you. It is to create a space where you feel safe enough to meet yourself — where your body can speak, your heart can soften, emotions that have waited patiently beneath the surface can finally move, and the wisdom that already lives within you can be heard.
The people drawn to this work are often standing at a threshold. For some, it is having achieved what they thought would make them happy, only to find something still missing. For others, it is feeling stuck — held back from what they long for by old wounds, shame, or fear they can't quite name. What they share is a sense that the way through runs deeper than effort or willpower. They are tired of carrying it alone, tired of abandoning themselves to meet the expectations of others, tired of living from the head while disconnected from the heart. They are ready for something deeper — not another self-improvement project. A homecoming.
Because that is what I believe healing really is. Not becoming someone else. Not transcending your humanity. Not fixing what was never broken. But remembering who you were before the world told you who you needed to be.
And finding the courage to come home to yourself.
Whenever you're ready, I'd love to welcome you onto the mat.
Gigi x
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