Biodynamic Therapy: From Secret Gardens to Rewilding
Growing the Idea and Seeing the Landscape
I’ve been growing this idea for quite some time now. That we aren’t fixed pointed, stuck “selves” so much as living, shifting landscapes - and the more I’ve listened, to myself, to clients and to the patterns that keep popping up, the more I’ve realised this isn’t just a nice image to have in your head. It’s a practical way of making sense of why we grow the way we do, why we get stuck, and how we can start to move again.
When people come to therapy, they don’t arrive as one smooth, consistent version of themselves. They arrive as a bit of a mixed bag, often showing up differently from week to week. Some parts are in good working order. Some have been completely mown over. Others look like they’ve been shut away in a shed for years. From the outside, I might just see tiredness, frustration, snappiness, exhaustion or someone who keeps putting on a show. But underneath, the internal system is simply doing what it has learned to do a long time ago, often to keep them safe.
I picture this inner landscape, as an Ecology of Self. I was inspired, in part, by Arne Næss, a Norwegian philosopher behind the Deep Ecology movement. He believed that human life is inseparable from the wider living world, and that our wellbeing is tied to the health of the whole ecosystem we’re part of. I think the same applies inside of us. Our internal world is its own ecosystem, with its climates, habitats and weather systems. What happens outside; relationships, upbringing, culture, trauma, even the daily environment we live in, shapes the terrain within. Just as a drought, storm or rich soil changes what grows in nature, the conditions we’ve lived through change what flourishes, struggles, gets under-watered, under-nourished or left to go to seed.
There are the easy-walk parts. The bits of us where life has been able to move freely, where it was safe to express yourself, where needs were met without being laughed at or told off. These areas feel lighter and easier to be in.
Then there are the overgrown patches. The tangled, bramble-climbed places, where the system had to build strong fences. These are the parts that go rigid, over-plan or slam the shutters down when something unexpected happens. I’ve seen it in people who freeze at the first hint of conflict, or who can’t sit still until every last thing is sorted. It’s not that they are naturally uptight, it’s that their ecosystem decided that safety came first.
And then you get the dry patches. The bare ground. Nothing much grows there because, early on, the person learned it wasn’t worth trying. Maybe feelings were ignored. Maybe need was met with rejection. Maybe communicating wasn’t rewarded. So the system quietly stopped sending energy that way. In grown-up life, this can look like numbness, disconnection, or feeling “meh” when others are lighting up. Then, we feel different and detached, disconnected.
When Survival Strategies Collide
The system’s responses come in different flavours. Some are quick, hot and in-your-face, like a grass fire. A panic attack. A sudden flash of anger. An urge to bolt or fix something now. They often catch people by surprise. “I was fine, then suddenly I wasn’t.” Nine times out of ten, they are not about what’s happening today. They are survival moves, sparked by something that smells like an old threat.
Others are slower and more baked-in. They turn into roles. The reliable one. The achiever. The helper. Identities chosen not because they were the fun option, but because they were the safest ticket to belonging. These roles can feel fine, even comfortable, but they narrow who you’re allowed to be and they eat up energy - often leaving you criticised, judged or sidelined.
When the quick-to-react parts and the long-term roles are both running the show, you get stuck. One bit wants change, the other has its foot on the brake. That’s when you hear, “I’m exhausted but I can’t stop working” or “I want closeness but I keep people at arm’s length.” It’s not sabotage. It’s two parts of the system pulling in different directions.
At that stage, surface-level advice like “change your habits” or “think more positively” barely touches the sides. These aren’t just mindset hiccups. They are structural. The roots have grown around things. You have to work with the whole system.
Checking the Conditions
That means checking the conditions.
What’s the climate like inside? What’s the landscape? Is there anywhere safe enough for rest? Is there a corner of the self that’s allowed to let its hair down? Or has the whole place been shaped around defence, output and staying alert? And part of checking the conditions means spotting which parts are present and loud, and which ones barely get a look-in….those exiled parts that squeak from time to time but are firmly pushed down, for fear that if they spoke up, they’d leave you feeling vulnerable or exposed. This is central to the Ecology of Self; knowing which bits of the terrain dominate and which are silenced.
Questions That Change the Conversation
My favourite questions are: Which part of you is working overtime and loud? and which part struggles to be heard?
Sometimes the over-functioning part needs permission to knock off early. Sometimes the anxious part needs to be seen for what it is, not “difficult” but over-alert. Sometimes a small, quiet part, the one that’s never been in charge, needs an actual invitation. Even if it only manages a whisper.
Composting and Letting New Growth Emerge
That first invitation can be like the first drop of rain in a drought.
Systems don’t need bulldozing. They need slow, steady watering. A bit of attention, some warmth. Just enough to say, “It’s safe to grow here now.”
And not everything needs pulling up. A lot of it just needs composting.
By composting, I mean breaking down the old, stiff beliefs and habits, “I’m only safe if I’m useful” or “emotions aren’t welcome here,” and turning them into something that feeds growth instead of choking it. Some beliefs are like plants that have gone to seed. They spread everywhere, sometimes into the wrong places. We’re not erasing them completely, we’re reusing and reshaping them so they feed the system rather than take it over.
Once that starts happening, you can get new shoots. And sometimes, under years of weeds and old fencing, you find a hidden space that’s been quietly waiting. I call these “secret gardens”. Not perfect, not untouched, but still alive. Often more wild than tidy. And often the place where the most surprising growth happens once it can breathe again.
Trust, Timing and Internal Seasons
This takes time. Systems have to believe that the new conditions won’t hurt them. Trust is not instant.
This is where seasonality matters. People have internal winters. Not because they’ve failed, but because they’re storing up for deeper change. It might look like nothing’s happening, but underground, the roots are busy. Clients often arrive right on the brink of articulating the answers. They just need the right patch of earth to plant them in.
Then, if there’s enough safety and space, rewilding can begin. Not chaos, not going backwards, but a return of natural instinct. Play. Creativity. Curiosity. Calm. Courage. Confidence. Clarity. Compassion. Connection. Parts that were once kept under strict management start to stretch out, poke their heads up and take up space. Not because they’ve been told to, but because they can. They sense the freedom.
The Purpose of the Work
So the work isn’t about fixing people. It’s about helping them understand what their system’s been up to, why it made sense at the time, and how safety can be restored so different things can grow. It’s about working with the land you’ve got, not wishing for a different plot.
That’s why my Biodynamic Therapy model blends Internal Family Systems, psychodynamic theory, attachment work, somatic awareness, schemas, CBT and creative interventions such as visualisations and images. They help me see the terrain clearly - which areas are in good nick, which are worn out, and what needs a bit of tending to get back into balance. It’s the Ecology of Self in action.
It’s not neat work. But it works.
If this resonates with you, book a session with me to explore your inner world and retrieve your secret garden.
