What springs to mind when you think of a working like a woman?

I'd really like to know, because last week, I had an intriguing introduction to what could be at The Great British Business Show - and, to quote a nearest and dearest, it's all gone bit woo woo...

Rachel Elnaugh, founder of Red Letter Days and one of TV's Dragons, was talking about her new venture, Imago People TV.  This new business is growing, in part, through what she describes as the magic of collaboration, positive vibrational energy, intention and working in a 'heart-centred' way. These are all qualities firmly rooted, she says, in the feminine - the polar opposite of forecasts and spreadsheets, a traditionally 'masculine' approach.

Rachel's stand was certainly the most creative space in the building - more like a tent with white drapes, soft cushions, a golden buddha and incense drifting lazily into the air – and I asked myself how delegates would have felt if that feminine spirit had infiltrated the rest of the building, ransacking the regimented rows of grey, green and purple-branded stands and knocking the  army of smartly dressed, over-eager leaflet wavers into a more comfortable position on the floor.

As it was, in that environment, it was a strange experience hearing someone talk about working with their inner goddess as a strategy for success. I've been to workshops like that, but never one where anyone was wearing a suit. It felt like a collision of two very different worlds and, I wonder, when the dust from the impact settles, what might have the potential to emerge?

In my opinion, flow in life, be it business or pleasure related, doesn't come from purely masculine or feminine, but rather the combined complementary harmonies of both, equal and opposite, yin and yang. Rachel hadn't ditched the spreadsheets, but she's overlaid them with something more creative and intangible - a faith in the power of something indefinable that she described as magical.

I'm excited by people who question, who are curious, who are prepared to embrace a different perspective – in the words of Anita Roddick, 'open structures that challenge accepted thinking' are the way forwards.

I am also optimistic about the doors that might be opened for both sexes if we create a working environment that stands for creativity, communication, compassion, nurturing the fulfilment of personal potential and the opportunity to invest in long-term, successful collaborations. It's kinder, more human, more congruent with the higher qualities we hold most dear.

In this female business landscape, transparency and openess are key, along with empathy, sensitivity and gentleness – powerful, self-affirming qualities. There's no place here for hidden agendas, ego trips, manipulation and power play – and there's the rub. These 'feminine' organisations can only truly succeed in the spirit in which they were conceived if those involved are genuinely walking their talk.

When it's all about money, the end justifies the means, but if we choose to operate within a heart-centred business, and then fail to embody those innately positive qualities or knowingly subvert them, the backlash has far greater moral and even spiritual implications.

In fact, for anyone working in the realms of energy, intention, intuition and 'magic', it's not out of the ball park to say that undermining those rules is akin to corrupting some fundamental universal principles. Of course, by the same token, you can expect the karmic repercussions to be considerable, but only after integrity has been trampled underfoot or sold to the highest bidder.

And maybe that's just business - but do we want it to be? And if we don't, who do we want to be writing the new rule book?

The women's glossy magazine market: shiny page after shiny page of life as women know it. It gives us lifestyles to aspire to, some strong, powerful, successful female role models and plenty of helpful hints about the best way to orgasm, create a meal using in-season veg and holiday like the world's sexiest celebs.

It gives us a way to find out what other women are up to, what they have achieved and how they manage to look 10 years younger than they really are - without plastic surgery (although you know that's a quick-fix option too, right?). 

It gives a voice to those who know what it's like to lose a child/a husband/a job/their sanity and then rediscover love/purpose/their spiritual self/their mission in life or their ability to create interesting, stylish interiors.

There is much to be said for feeling connected, knowing that we're not alone, that others have experienced our problems and come out the other side, happier and stronger. The magazine world is about fighting our corner, standing up for who we are, how we live, what we believe in.

But while the words may give us one story, the images do something different. Flawless model perfection and fat-free celebrity thighs lurk around the editorial that urges us to love our bodies - and that flood of images repeats the same question over and over again: Are YOU measuring up as a woman? And if not, what are you going to do about it? 

Am I over-egging the pudding here? I mean, with all that positive lifestyle stuff, surely we're OK? We can't be knocked off balance by a few fashion shoots and some celebrity gossip - can we? And yet strangely, we are...

The average woman spends 31 years of her life trying to lose weight – and those involved in this multi-million pound diet industry are happy to give her all the support she wants (although clearly not the kind of support that actually works. 31 years? That's quite a diet plan!)

Then there are beauty products and, according to Vogue, "the pursuit of beauty has never been so easy". (Pursuit rather than achievement.) Helpfully, they also provide the model standard we should aspire to...

Of course, we recognise digital jiggery pokery when we see it, but on a subconscious level, is that what we're really thinking about when we look at those sylph-like, ethereal creatures with artificially-lengthened limbs? 

It's known that the more we see something, the more it becomes the norm - and for that reason, those images do more than sell clothes.

So when teenagers are bombarded with images of how their bodies are 'supposed' to look and they haven't even fully developed yet, when children are dressed up as adults and used to sell clothes to grown women who now, apparently, should aspire to having the body and face of an adolescent; when beauty is something we are told we achieve through what we buy rather than who we are, it becomes apparent that by giving this glossy space too much credence, women allow themselves to be sold horribly short (or fat, or lumpy or just not beautiful enough) because we don't look like someone else.

As a result, we waste ridiculous amounts of energy, consciously and subconsciously, focusing on what we're not – energy that could go elsewhere, into something positive, rather than twisting inwards like a knife in the gut. 

However, we live in a culture that's big on aesthetics. We like to smooth out rough edges, laughter lines, bulges and stretch marks. 

Only 3%* of women in the UK are totally happy with their body - 90% actually get depressed because of it - but if every woman understood, accepted and loved herself (just as she is) and focused on eating for health and vitality not weight loss – what could we do with all that energy, liberated from its 31 years of imprisonment? I wonder - how might our world and our lives be different? 

* Figure taken from a recent survey by REAL magazine.

I used to be a ballet dancer. Not a good one. Someone's mother said, aged 6, I had wings on my heels, which sounded nice - but when it came to official recognition, I sat heavily and consistently in the average garden. 

The examiner would give us a complicated French word to turn into movement and I hesitated to see what the other girls did first, in case I got it wrong. I was a natural follower, because I didn't want to make mistakes. Then, movement came second to words and the need to be right.

Now I dance the tango and I'm supposed to follow. It's an exercise in switching off my head, my thoughts, the words that put a degree of separation between me and the experience. The movement still comes second, but now it follows a feeling – the impulse and energy of the lead.

The tango is a lesson in allowing myself the freedom to find an almost meditative space of being in my body, without a running commentary of self-critical mind chatter – You didn't do that very well... You've done it wrong... You'll never be good enough... 

To dance, I have to trust myself and the lead I get from my partner. It's sometimes frustrating and challenging. It can also be beautiful – a flow of two bodies in the same moment. That's the part I aspire to - with the desire of that little girl who wanted to feel those wings on her heels. It's also the embodiment of rapport, subtle communication and consideration between two people. It's about interpreting music together. 

I often make mistakes, but you have to learn and swiftly move on.  That foot out of place is a moment gone and if I dwell on it, I mess up the two or three that follow. And when do those mistakes happen most frequently? When I stop trusting myself and what I'm feeling.

I have to give myself fully to the process and commit to it. If I hang on to indecision and doubt, the next step I take lacks conviction - and if I can't be wholehearted about myself, my dance partners experience only part of what I could be.

The tango is an invitation to connect with someone else, to be a part of their world and to share my own. I choose - or not - to accept, because although I'm a follower, I have my own space, my own boundaries and my own sense of self. I also have to keep my own balance.  

I can enter into this relationship with a sense of pride, confidence, strength and passion or I can be small, apologetic and mouse-like – which would you rather be?

Of course there's so much more to learn and hours to be spent on the dance floor to give my movements the confidence I want them to have, but in the meantime, I just have to forgive myself for my weaknesses, give myself credit for what I do best and enjoy the dance, wherever it takes me. 

Image gratefully borrowed from visualvamp.wordpress.com

It's a woman's thing, crying. Of course we don't hold the monopoly, but our hormones and even the structure of our eyes make us more prone than men. Given that emotional tears also contain a hormone that is a natural painkiller, you might as well call them a biological imperative – but in spite of that, tears are liquid loaded with issues.

We watch them with fascination on TV, from quiz shows and the X Factor to documentaries, and we shared grief as a nation without really knowing why at the death of Diana – and it was as if then it became OK to go public with our tears, the first time since the war demanded that we pack up our troubles and keep them quiet and dry.

But there are still so many occasions when 'Keep calm and carry on' seems to linger on in our collective national consciousness – those moments when crying has the power to make us and others extremely uncomfortable, embarrassed or even angry. It seems to happen among smaller groups, or one to one, when there's no distance or crowd of people around to soften the impact. Then we're required to confront them and deal with the emotions that lay behind them.   

Of course the big events in life warrant emotional outpourings – births, weddings, funerals – but for other 'lesser' issues, tears are often seen as a weakness or vulnerability, as being soft, overly emotional or sensitive, hormonal, losing control or they prompt the question, can she (or he) really cope? 

A friend recently told me how she'd cried in front of her manager – and how bad that made her feel. Her fear was that he would think she just wasn't strong enough. And yet she's an incredibly capable, intelligent, resourceful, passionate woman who really cares about what she does. But her tears made her question herself – and not the environment within which she was trying to operate, or her manager, which might have been a better place to start. 

But it's true, rightly or wrongly, crying can have a huge impact on the way others see us and indeed how we see and feel about ourselves. 

There's a moment in the final Harry Potter saga when the tears of a dying man are used to create images of the past, his memories, his life. And that's all real tears ever are – the sum of our experiences, good and bad, a little bit of who we are. They reflect our deepest values – and when they've been violated or upset. 

Crying tells a story. Often when words are inadequate or can't be found or we're incapable of expressing what the heart is feeling, it's tears that speak louder than words and offer the kind of release that vowels and consonants just can't. And then crying is our greatest ally - and that's when I'm glad to be a woman.

Men draw the short straw. In many ways, a woman's tears are more easily accommodated, but because it is seen as a female trait, crying without a decent life or death reason can cast a question mark over the very quality of masculinity. Hardly seems fair. On either sex. I'd like to think there will be a time when being compared to a woman isn't seen as a way of insulting a man...

However, I'm amazed at the male constitution, the nature or the nurture of it, that allows some men to withstand the most upsetting, difficult or moving moments without the merest hint of eye mist.  

I on the other hand cry quite a lot. Sometimes when I talk about something I'm passionate about, I can feel my eyes filling up with the emotion of what I'm feeling. My conviction shows. It's just how I am. 

But there are as many kinds of tears as their are emotions – as a child we cry when we're lonely or afraid, we cry over the bumps and bruises of growing up and when we're older, the pain of relationships ending that can be so great we want to crawl out of our own skin. And of course there are tears of happiness too, of joy, of pleasure – a literal spilling over of good feelings.

Crying can also be about letting go, and rather than being accompanied by wrenching sobs, those tears just flow quietly, washing away stress and tension and bringing relief, peace and a deeper connection with yourself. 

So why would anyone want to hold them back? Maybe it will make people uncomfortable from time to time, if they happen to catch you in a moment, but I think that emotion should be allowed to flow freely and if that means tears, well, bring it on. 

Swallowing down those kind of feelings can choke us if we don't find another way of letting them go and ultimately, the big important ones won't go away anyway, not really. And that's another thing about tears, you can build up a backlog, an ocean waiting, needing, wanting to be cried.

But when emotion flows freely, it allows you to move beyond it, through it, past it and then it doesn't define us, any more than our tears do.

Image shown: "Larmes Tears", by Man Ray

In a much-loved farm house, surrounded by cornfields, you'll find the Ewefields Retreat. It's a place for seeing things more clearly, a beautiful, light-full space. Swallows were scoring perfect parabolas through the air as I let myself inside.

There were six of us. Two coaches and three others like me - waiting to see what would happen.

We sat on the carpet, in a circle, in a mainly empty room designed to let the people be the focus not the furniture, and for much of the first day, we talked. We talked about where we were in life personally and professionally and what we needed and wanted. With all the doing that happens, it was a time for being and taking stock.  

I'm aware that I do a lot of rushing around and, occasionally, a casualty of this is the ability or perhaps even the willingness to think about why I'm doing what I do, what I want to get out of it and even whether I actually know. 

Sometimes we find ourselves on a trajectory, propelled into doing (at speed). It may be a trajectory initially determined by us, but often it's by circumstances or other people - and sometimes it's taking us in the wrong direction. 

The trouble is, by then we're already moving at such a pace that unless we jam the brakes on, we'll carry on until we hit the destination we didn't want. Or like a doomed rocked hurtling through space, warning lights start flashing and the body starts malfunctioning. Sometimes. 

Among these women, talking was uninhibited and honest. We had the chance to be heard and to listen. Mutual respect and consideration gave room for emotion to emerge and then cradled it gently. 

It was a contemplative space in which we shared humour and experiences and found connections through sympathy and empathy. It was a place to put the brakes on.

The second day was more about setting new trajectories, gaining a clearer idea on what we wanted and needed and looking more closely at how we could achieve some of our most important goals, dreams and desires. 

Of course you can do this kind of thing on your own - you don't need to go away on a retreat - but, for me, the guidance of two experienced coaches and a supportive, all-female group made the mental and emotional self-exploration more profound and the process of gaining focus far easier.

In my (albeit limited) experience, men seem more likely to do this kind of processing on their own - and appear much less frequently than women on retreats like this one. They may have one best mate who they talk to in depth, or a partner, but the default seems to be to go it alone - and there is a miraculous process I've observed where they will take themselves off for a pre-defined period of time and come back with THE ANSWER. I am in awe of this. 

Many of the women I know (myself included) choose to look for answers through a more collaborative process, building the networks that provide the support and feedback they need to make their own minds up. 

There is no right or wrong way to go about the process of answering questions - but I think the secret is to be open to anything and leave no stone unturned. 

I have noticed that unexpectedly amazing revelations can come from the most unusual and unlikely of people and places - and whatever leads you to them is doing it for a reason. Trust it. And yourself. We know everything we need to know about ourselves to be happy. It's just a case of stopping and listening.

I've noticed certain words crop up over and over again when women describe women – adjectives like loving, intuitive, nurturing, feminine, giving, strong, resourceful... Seems our collective identity is firmly rooted in our biological potential to be a mother, a carer, a creator and protector of things smaller and more fragile than ourselves. 

As it happens, I like these words. I think they're beautiful and positive; I have no qualms about applying them to myself, but I do have a question: How much do they limit our sense of what being a woman can be? 

We have created something of a female blueprint – and that means standards have been set and expectations established. If this is the case, what are the assumptions being made about what a woman can achieve and if I don't match up, should I be giving myself a good talking to? 

Equally, if we have made these words our own unique property, how much do they skew our sense of what a man can or should be?  

Of course men can be nurturing, giving, resourceful etc, but are these the words they would choose to describe their masculinity?  Probably not. And I know they're not the words that immediately spring to mind for me. 

As a general rule, 'male' words are related to performance, personal power and intellect over emotion – a few that spring to mind include tough, charming, powerful and dependable. 

And what about the words that can comfortably be applied to both sexes - words like strong? It seems they have very different overtones depending on who you're talking about. 

Do a strong man and a strong woman possess the same kind of strength? I'm not sure they do. Strength is a nominalisation that translates very differently depending on the gender in question. When used to describe a man 'strength' tends to imply physicality. In a woman, it suggests more a sense of determination or some kind of mental ability to withstand hardship and difficulty. 

We use words so often without thinking about what they really mean or what we mean by them. For this reason, many conversations are based entirely on approximation because, let's face it, life's easier that way. If we were to consider the full implications of everything we say before we say it, there'd be many long drawn out silences. 

But sometimes, words are worth thinking about because they're never just words. The way we use them reflects our sense of who we believe we are in our world, as well as what we expect from others. 

Words allow us to express ourselves, but can also limit the ways we have to do it. Unless of course you get creative. So why not become that unexpected description of yourself and be a word you've never been before.  

"Why talk about being a woman?" he asked me. "Wouldn't it be better to think about yourself as an individual? Why set yourself up with the potential to become a stereotype or a generalisation?"

Well, it's something to think about. I don't want to suggest in any way that women (or groups of women) are all the same. The gentleman I was talking to had a point - of course, we're all unique, we all have our own map of the world. To generalise is merely an exercise in simplification and, as much as that makes life easier, it also leads to all sorts of nasty oversights.

So I will just write about my experiences of the day. I was on a Tantra & 5Rhythms workshop. I don't do this every Sunday, but I've had experiences of both before. If you're not familiar, follow the links - there's plenty to read about. 

For now, I'll just say that today, from 9.30am to 6.30pm, I've been in a large dance studio with about 60 people, half and half men and women. We have indeed danced, and also been silly, honest and quiet in an amazing environment that created sensuality, self-expression, respect, openness, gentleness, some crying and shouting and enough laughter to make it a great place to be. 

I'm exhausted and feel like I've been hit by a truck, but I feel calmer, more grounded and more in my skin than I have in ages. 

I experienced some amazing moments of emotional intimacy, with men and women - women who made me giggle like a five year old and with whom I felt welcome, safe, comfortable, nurtured, strong and balanced. An equal and an opposite. 
 
There was also a point during the day when were invited to divide ourselves into groups of men and women. This was a simple split that included gay and straight, couples and singles and twentysomethings to fiftysomethings. And it was obvious then how much gender matters. 

Expression became more vocal. It seemed that in that single sex space, people felt they were able to express themselves more confidently. There was a celebration of male or female that happened naturally, without inhibition. It felt a little primal, a little raw. There was pleasure and power to be found in bonding in this way. 

I don't think I'm pushing any boundaries when I say that there is recognition and understanding between people of the same sex - or at least an assumption of its existence and the subsequent support available, which is often borne out. 

When that takes the form of today's expression, it's an incredibly positive experience. It's about feeling connected and creating anchors in a world that can be confusing, complicated and even downright catastrophic. 

That's no bad thing.

What does it mean to be a woman?

First, I need to qualify this question… I'm talking about the experience of being a woman, the sense of identity that may or may not arise from being female.

And secondly, I'm asking the question because I don't know. There are countless answers, as many as there are individuals, but I don't have mine. 

I had a conversation with a lovely twentysomething woman today. I'd talked to her about my project and our subsequent chat went something like this…

Me: So what do you think it means to be a woman?
Her: I don't know really. You'd probably speak to some people and they'd be able to give you an answer though..
M: What does it mean to you to be a woman?
H: I haven't really thought about it…
M: Maybe it doesn't matter?
H: No. Maybe it doesn't. 
M: Would you rather be a bloke?
H: (without hesitation). No. Don't know why though…

I'm intrigued.

When the simple fact of being a woman has such powerful social, cultural, professional, economic and sexual implications; when we discuss at length the way women are presented and represented in the media, in society, within the family dynamic, on the catwalk, in politics, why isn't there more clarity about what this means subjectively? 

Where's the curiosity, the compulsion that asks: 'Where do I fit into this debate? What does this mean for me, the way I live and my sense of self? 

How many beliefs, assumptions and expectations do I have and hold onto subconsciously because I am a woman? How much does my female status impact on my sense of personal value and self-esteem? How does being a woman affect my confidence, sexual identity and measure of achievement? Where, who and what are my benchmarks? 

Scientists decoding the human genome have discovered that 78 genes separate men from women and it's the absence of the Y chromosome that makes all the difference. But my experience of being a woman isn't about not being a man - and for the next 29 days, I don't intend to play spot the difference. 

My aim is simply to explore the journeys women take (myself included) to attain a sense of their female self - and to celebrate a little bit of what being a woman might be about. 

With this in mind, tomorrow's tantric workshop could be interesting...

There's a new talk on ted.com from Matt Cutts, an engineer at Google. It's called 'Try something new for 30 days'. 

His point is simply this: the next 30 days are going to happen, and there's nothing we can do about it. They'll either fly by or drag, but in that time, you can create something good – and do it every day, for the rest of the month. 

He suggests doing something you've always wanted to do. Now personally, I've never really had any lifelong ambitions. After a brief spell as Britannia when I was three, I wanted to be a cowgirl. Then a nurse, because of the upside-down watch, and then a teacher. After that things got a bit woolly.

Now, however, there is something that I want to give some attention to – but rather than it being something I've always wanted to do, it's actually something I've always been, initially in the making, but now more fully realised... I'm talking about being a woman. 

So for the next 30 days, that's what I want to give some time, focus and thought. What does it mean to be a woman? How are femininity, femaleness and womanliness expressed - and how important is gender in self-expression?

Your thoughts would be much appreciated, so please comment, share and retweet. I much prefer the sound of my own voice when it's accompanied by other people's, male or female.

And in case you're interested, here's Matt's TED talk... 
It's just over three minutes (no time at all in the broader scheme of 30 days!)

"Why talk about being a woman?" he asked me. "Wouldn't it be better to think about yourself as an individual? Why set yourself up with the potential to become a stereotype or a generalisation?"

Well, it's something to think about. I don't want to suggest in any way that women (or groups of women) are all the same. The gentleman talking has a point - we are all unique, we all have our own maps of the world and to generalise is merely an exercise in simplification. And, as much as that makes life easier, it also leads to all sorts of nasty oversights.

So I will just write about my experiences of the day. I was on a Tantra & 5Rhythms workshop. I don't do this every Sunday, but I've had experience of both before. If you're not familiar, follow the links - there's plenty to read about. 

For now, I'll just say that today, from 9.30am to 6.30pm, I've been in a large dance studio with about 60 people, half and half men and women. 

We have danced, been silly, been honest and been quiet in an amazing environment that created sensuality, self-expression, respect, openness, gentleness, some crying and shouting and more than enough laughter to make it a great place to be. 

I'm exhausted and feel like I've been hit by a truck, but a happy one. I feel calmer, more grounded and more in my skin than I have in ages. 

I can also say that I experienced some amazing moments of emotional intimacy and tenderness - with men and women. There was one beautiful, playful, passionate woman in particular, who, within the dance, made me giggle like I was five, and with whom I felt protected, supported, strong and beautiful too - an equal and an opposite. In the company of these women, I found a sense of being nurtured, safe, accepted, welcome. I felt connected.

There was also a point during the day when were invited to divide ourselves into groups of men and women. This was a simple split that included gay and straight, couples and singles and twentysomethings to fiftysomethings. And it was obvious how much gender matters. 

Expression became more vocal. It seemed that in that single sex space, people felt they were able to express themselves more confidently. There was a celebration of male or female that happened naturally, without inhibition. It felt a little primal, a little raw. There was pleasure and power to be found in bonding in this way. 

And I don't think I'm pushing any boundaries when I say that there is recognition and understanding between people of the same sex - or at least an assumption of its existence and the subsequent support available, which is usually borne out. And when that takes the form of today's expression, it's an incredibly positive experience. It's about creating anchors that steady and support us in a world that can be confusing, complicated and at times, downright catastrophic. 

That's no bad thing.