Language that remembers.
Here’s what you’ll find
Books, poems, essays, and transmissions from the field.
Words are one of the ways the spiral speaks.
Through poetry, essay, and prayer, Naz gives voice to the places where grief and sovereignty meet, where shadow is sacred, and where the body remembers what the mind forgets.
Poetry collection + spoken word album
Nature’s Whisper: Poems of Connection, Reflection, and Wild Wonder
A collection for thresholds - forest-born, sea-held, and utterly human.
Each piece is both poem and practice, carrying you across the liminal spaces of grief, wonder, belonging, and return.
The companion spoken word album brings the language to life in ritual sound, weaving voice and atmosphere into ceremony.
Poetry collection + spoken word album
The Body's Whisper: Poems of Healing, Embodiment, and Discovery
The Body’s Whisper is a remembering - an invitation to listen beneath words, symptoms, and stories. Here, the body is not something to fix, but something to tend, as sensation becomes language and grief reveals its wisdom.
Naz’s essays and field notes emerge like signals: reflections from the spiral, grief-letters, and meditations on sovereignty and shadow.
They are not scheduled, but seasonal.
Not content, but compass.
Ongoing Transmissions
know what you’re looking for?
A Pause Before Flight
Recently, I was walking on the beach and noticed a dragonfly with wet wings, stunned into stillness. I reached down and gently offered my fingertip, and it climbed on. It sat quietly on my palm for a while as I walked the shoreline where the waves gently broke at low tide.
Fully Embodied
Wind whips through my hair, crisp air in my lungs, the Irish Sea spread wide before me. I stand atop the cliffs near Dún Aonghasa on Inis Mór, in the Aran Islands, in the last days of my journey across Northern Ireland and Ireland.
Tending to Grief - Learning from our Ancestors
Today, most of us are kept at a distance. The death we witness is often sanitized, and our grief is rarely given permission to cry its full lament to the elements the way it once did. Instead, we bury it in the body's terrain, in our bones, muscles, and tissue.
Let the words find you.
You can read these pieces on your own.
Or you can invite Naz to bring them alive - in readings, performances, or ritual gatherings where voice and presence weave the spiral into sound.