What Changed? · Senior executive
From untouchable to inner circle.
She’d done the retreats, read the books, done therapy, ancestral healing and energy work. She’d moved. She knew she hadn’t moved enough.
Before.
Laila found me through the measurement. She’d done the Joe Dispenza retreat. She’d read the David Hawkins book. She’d done therapy, ancestral healing, energy work: the full inventory of the serious seeker. And she’d moved. But she knew she hadn’t moved enough, and she was sophisticated enough to know the difference.
What hooked her wasn’t my method. It was that I was tracking it.
She was 40. A senior executive earning well into six figures. She’d left India at 18 with nothing and built everything herself. The kind of person who tracks her net worth the way other people track their steps. She wanted more. Not from lack, but from a very clear sense of what was possible and a frustration that she wasn’t there yet.
Her husband had recently been diagnosed with ALS.
She didn’t come to me with a presenting problem. She came with an intention: to raise her level of consciousness. That was unusual.
She wanted the private jet lifestyle. To move among high-net-worth people. To build a business generating, and I remember this number clearly, four million a month.
Inside my head when she said that: well, good luck with that. I didn’t say it. That was my head trash, not hers.
What we saw.
How I read the numbers.
I take three readings. The average is how someone is operating day to day. The floor is how low they drop when things fall apart. The ceiling is the highest they can reach on their best days. The floor is where you really see where someone lives: not on their best days, but in their worst moments.
The scale comes from David Hawkins’ work, and I use it alongside other measures. Is it proven in the way a clinical measure is? No. But it helps me enormously, and it’s a big part of how I zero in on the things that matter.
Laila’s average was 226. Her floor was 183, which is fear territory. That’s where she was dropping when things got hard. And things were getting hard.
The gold in the boot.
When I mapped her inner architecture before we began, something came up that I’d never worked with quite so precisely. She had grown up in a family of untouchables.
Untouchable isn’t just poverty or disadvantage. It’s a wound built into identity across generations: the belief, absorbed from infancy, that you’re of a different order to other people. Less. Undeserving of what others take for granted.
You don’t leave a wound like that behind when you cross an ocean. It shows up in how you price yourself. In who you think you’re allowed to want. In whether you believe, in your bones, that the life you can clearly see is actually available to you.
We have a name for this: the gold in the boot. Imagine you’re driving and something sounds wrong. Scraping, heavy, like the exhaust is dragging along the road. The garage has a look and there it is: someone has filled the spare tyre compartment with gold. Nobody told you it was there. You thought it was your spare tyre. It’s been dragging you down this whole time, making the car work harder, costing you in ways you couldn’t see from the driver’s seat.
Once you find it and do the work, the gold stops being dead weight. It becomes a source of power you didn’t know you had.
What we worked on.
We cleared the ancestral roots of the untouchable wound, layer by layer. In her first three-month programme, each month started with an intention-setting session where she wrote out what she wanted to create.
Why the other tools had taken her as far as they could.
Think of it like getting from London to Moscow. You could take a boat across the Channel, a train to Paris, change for Berlin, change again, slowly making your way across Europe. Each leg gets you further. None of them gets you to Moscow. Or you could get on a plane in London and fly direct.
Therapy was the boat across the Channel. It was the right tool, and it got her somewhere she couldn’t have reached without it. Joe Dispenza was perhaps the Paris train. Each did what it was capable of doing.
Head Trash Clearance is the plane. The other methods didn’t fail. It just goes further.
What changed.
Monthly readings over just over a year. Watch the pink line.
Laila’s average, floor and ceiling
The floor is the number I want you to sit with. She came in dropping to 183 when things went wrong. She left with a floor of 453. The worst days became far less extreme. Not suppressed, not managed. She no longer had enough of the heavier energies in her make-up to drop there.
This is that make-up. The Ladder has five stages, and I use my own names for them, from the most reactive to the most coherent: Conker, Washing Ball, Bouncy Ball, Snooker Ball and Glitter Ball. We carry some of each at the same time, like the sea: warm patches near the surface, cold pockets deeper down. What changes through healing is the mix.
Laila’s energetic make-up
What happened next.
In month two, this was her intention:
I attract financial blessings in unexpected ways. Money comes to me for no reason. Everything I desire is here.
A month later, near the end of her first programme with me, she lost her job. Company cuts. Out.
Her husband’s ALS had progressed. Private carers, significant healthcare costs. Not the moment to be without a six-figure income. When she told me on the call, I had my own internal wobble. For about thirty seconds I thought: of all the timing. What the hell.
Two days later she emailed me. She’d bumped into an old friend, who knew a CEO who’d been running his businesses for twenty years and was looking for someone to run operations across all of them. She had a conversation. No real interview process. She was the only candidate.
He hired her in four days. At £300k.
One of the first things she had to do in the new role was manage the purchase of his private jet.
I’m not claiming that this is a manifestation story. I hate that framing. The CEO who hired her was Indian, and of a different caste. By then, the untouchable wound, the ancestral belief that someone from her background couldn’t stand alongside someone of a different class as an equal, had been thoroughly cleared.
Without that clearing, the conversation with the old friend would have gone differently. So would the meeting. She’d have behaved differently, carried herself differently, made herself smaller. She didn’t.
Today.
She’s still in the role, and her boss thinks she’s brilliant. We stopped working together in 2025 and we’ve stayed in touch.
Her husband’s illness worsened after the programme ended, and he has since died. She handled that whole journey with a steadiness I’d call equanimity: operating with full presence and clarity through something devastating, not just surviving it.
The grief. The career upheaval. The extraordinary professional opportunity. The death of her husband. At 226 with a floor of 183, any one of those things could have taken her down.
At 612 with a floor of 453, she held all of it.
Where next