At Trauma Informed Consultancy Services (TICS), we believe that connection, creativity, and compassion are the foundations of sustainable change. The Dream Big Conference 2025 was the brainchild of Dr Lisa Cherry - TICS Founder and Director at the time — whose vision was to create a space where trauma-informed practice could be lived and felt rather than simply discussed. Her idea blossomed into a day that brought people together from across sectors and disciplines to share, learn, and heal in community.

Held within the historic walls of the People’s History Museum, the conference invited practitioners, leaders, and creatives to step into a collective experience of what it truly means to be trauma-informed. From the opening grounding exercise to the closing choir performance, every moment was infused with the spirit of belonging, reflection, and humanity. It was not simply a professional event — it was a deeply human one.

This collection gathers a selection of reflections from those who contributed to and helped shape the day — facilitators, associates, and partners whose words capture its atmosphere of learning, creativity, and care. While not everyone wrote a blog, every person who took part helped weave the shared story of Dream Big 2025: a story of connection, courage, and hope.

Within these pages, you’ll find insights from sessions such as the Sand Tray Method — where symbolic play uncovered new layers of reflection— and Spaces That Heal and Photovoice, where design and imagery became tools for safety, belonging, and empowerment. You’ll also encounter personal accounts of collective healing and embodiment, reminding us that transformation begins in relationship and resonance.

As Dr Lisa Cherry shared in her keynote, belonging, value, and connection are not abstract ideals but everyday practices. The golden threads of the day — creativity, relationship, reflection, and hope — ran through every workshop, conversation, and shared silence. Those threads continue to shape TICS’ work today, under the ongoing leadership of Jessica Jane Parker, now Director of TICS, who remains committed to carrying forward this vision of trauma-informed practice that heals, includes, and inspires.

Whether you attended the conference or are discovering it through these words, we hope this collection offers you both reflection and renewal — a reminder that trauma-informed practice begins not with frameworks, but with people. With you. With us. With the courage to imagine and build spaces (inner and outer) that heal.

Written by Team TICS

Dream Big 2025 – Reflections on a Day of Connection, Hope and Humanity

Written by Carrie Wilson

Wow, what a day.

Although my body feels physically exhausted, my mind and heart are full — sharp, clear and buzzing with the energy of connection after helping to bring to life the TICS Dream Big 2025 Conference.

It wasn’t just an event. It was a felt experience of what trauma-informed practice truly is — where safety, connection, collaboration, empowerment and hope are not abstract principles, but living, breathing moments shared between people.

From the very beginning, the day was grounded in presence and welcome.
As people arrived, we didn’t just tick off names or hand out lanyards. We greeted each person with genuine warmth and excitement — because belonging begins the moment you’re seen and valued.

We didn’t end with a rushed goodbye, either. Instead, we closed the conference by singing together for 45 minutes — creating a collective piece of art that was joyful, healing and connected. It flew by, and yet it lingered deeply.

The day was filled with so many moments like that — where connection and belonging weren’t just talked about, they were felt.

The Golden Threads of the Day

We began with Amelia Brunt’s grounding session, which did more than invite us to arrive — it reminded us why we do this work and how we sustain ourselves within it.

Amelia shared the beautiful metaphor of “The Well Tenders.” Historically, these were the women in a village responsible for keeping the communal wells clean and flowing — because the wellbeing of the entire community depended on that shared water source.

She reflected that when the well keepers were hurt, overworked, or abused, the whole community was affected. The water became neglected, the well began to dry, and the life of the village suffered. The health of the people was directly tied to the wellbeing of those who tended the well.

Through that story, Amelia invited us to recognise ourselves — those who hold space, who listen, who care — as today’s Well Tenders. She reminded us that to sustain trauma-informed communities, we must also care for those who care. If we neglect our own wells, we cannot keep the waters of compassion and connection flowing for others.

It was a grounding, gentle, and profound start to the day: a collective breath that honoured care work as both sacred and shared. The reminder that well-tended people create well-tended communities set the tone perfectly for what was to follow.

Dr Lisa Cherry’s keynote wove the first golden thread of the day: belonging, value and connection as the foundation of trauma-informed practice. Lisa’s words were both grounding and galvanising.

She spoke with her trademark honesty and clarity about the importance of being human with one another — of seeing people not through the lens of systems or deficit, but through compassion, dignity and respect.

She reminded us that connection is not a “soft skill” — it’s the core mechanism of change. Without it, we can’t build safety; without safety, we can’t learn, heal or grow. Lisa’s keynote was a call to remember that belonging doesn’t live in a framework or a job description. It lives in how we show up: how we greet, how we listen, how we hold space.

It set the tone for the day perfectly — not as a conference to be attended, but as a collective experience of relationship, learning and healing.

That sense of shared humanity flowed into every workshop that followed.

Jessica Parker’s workshop on creating trauma-informed spaces that heal showed us that “dreaming big” doesn’t mean “spending big.” Each group was invited to design a space — and without being told, they all discovered the same golden thread: connection, belonging and co-production.

It was powerful to witness. When people take the time to imagine what healing feels like — and what’s needed to make it possible — they naturally create spaces that offer equity and dignity.
Jessica’s session reminded us that a trauma-informed environment isn’t defined by fancy furniture or budgets, but by warmth, care and intentional design. Whether it’s a classroom, a contact centre or a waiting room, small acts of thoughtfulness can make people feel safe, included, and worthy of care.

Ciara’s session on collective healing and somatic-based techniques offered something profoundly embodied. Through simple, accessible exercises — including humming — we explored how our nervous systems communicate safety and connection. When the whole room began to hum together, the energy shifted completely.

The sound reverberated through the space and through our bodies; the hairs on my arms stood on end. In that moment, the power of collective regulation and shared healing was undeniable — a living example of what it means to heal and support one another as a collective.

It reminded us that regulation doesn’t have to happen alone; that healing can be a shared experience rooted in rhythm, voice and presence.

Dr Arzhia Habibi’s workshops, delivered in collaboration with Manchester Poetry Library, wove creativity, culture and connection together.
Through poetry, Arzhia invited us to explore identity, difference and intersectionality — helping us recognise and embrace the multiple identities we each hold.

Her session was a reminder that healing often happens through creativity — through finding words for what once felt unspeakable, and sharing them in spaces of safety and curiosity.
Language became a bridge: between cultures, between experiences, and between the parts of ourselves that long to be seen and accepted.

The afternoon brought Dr Karen Treisman’s keynote; a moment of collective pause and reflection that anchored us in hope.

Karen’s session was passionate, insightful and profoundly human. She spoke about the ways trauma-informed work asks us to hold both pain and possibility — to stay open to what hurts, while also staying connected to what heals.

She reminded us that hope is not a passive feeling, but an active practice — a choice to notice strength, possibility and connection even in the midst of hardship.
Her words grounded us in the truth that trauma-informed practice is not about erasing pain, but about creating the conditions where healing becomes possible.

Karen’s message — to anchor ourselves in hope — resonated deeply. Hope as stability. Hope as humanity. Hope as the gentle thread that holds us steady when things are hard, difficult or painful.

It was a keynote that didn’t just speak to our professional identities, but to our human ones.

Her words were a gentle but powerful reminder: trauma-informed practice is about holding both the difficulty and the possibility at once.

Both Dr Lisa Cherry’s and Dr Karen Treisman’s keynotes grounded the day in wisdom and hope.

And then, to close the day, Carrie Rawlings and The Collaboration Choir lifted the room in song.

For 45 minutes, we sang together — not as performers or professionals, but as people. It was collective regulation in its purest form: joyful, rhythmic, connected. The energy in the room was electric.
It was the perfect embodiment of everything the day had represented — that healing happens through connection, care and creativity.

What the Day Reminded Us

The beauty of Dream Big 2025 wasn’t in its structure, but in its spirit.
Every part of the day reflected the heart of trauma-informed practice — that people heal in relationship, that safety and creativity open possibility, and that hope must be anchored, felt and shared.

Trauma-informed work is not a checklist or a policy document. It is a way of being.
It lives in the pauses, the greetings, the laughter, the co-created safety, the willingness to listen and the courage to hold hope.

As the day came to a close, the sense of connection was palpable. People were still talking at the train station, smiling, buzzing, laughing. One person said, “I’ve had so much fun.”
And that matters, because learning should feel like that.

When connection, care and creativity come together, we remember what it means to be human — together.

Huge love and gratitude to everyone who helped bring Dream Big 2025 to life — the whole TICS team, our brilliant speakers, facilitators, and every person who brought their energy, openness and heart into the room.

Reflections from the Dream Big Conference 2025: Shaping spaces

Written by Jessica Parker

It was an autumn day, and the city seemed to hum with quiet change. The trees outside the People’s History Museum were turning, leaves of copper, amber and gold catching in the breeze. Through the windows of the Archive Room, the light was soft and generous, carrying with it the promise of reflection.

In our Spaces That Heal workshop, participants were invited to design and construct small-scale models of everyday environments (bedrooms, waiting rooms, classrooms, offices, and therapy rooms) using 3D-printed furniture and cardboard boxes. These miniature spaces became tools for reflection and dialogue: What does safety feel like? What small details make us exhale when we enter a room?

Around the tables, people shaped, placed, and rethought. Some turned walls outward to create openness, others added partitions for privacy and containment. One participant designed a waiting room with a circular layout to reduce hierarchy; another positioned two chairs side by side in a therapy space to suggest companionship rather than confrontation. The tactile process gave shape to unspoken understandings: that trauma-informed practice extends beyond behaviour and policy into architecture and spatial design (Ames & Loebach, 2025; Dietkus, 2022).

As the models took form, the Archive Room itself seemed to respond. Its exposed brick, generous light, and shelves of history seemed to ooze transparency and trust. Outside, the tree branches blazing with autumn stood rooted and spacious, a reminder that growth and protection can coexist. Beneath it, the canal moved with patient rhythm, echoing the slow flow of our own reflective process.

In the afternoon, the Archive Room became our gathering space once more, this time for the Photovoice workshop. The group explored what trauma-informed spaces meant to them, not in theory, but through their own images. Each participant selected or captured a photograph that represented safety, belonging, or emotional resonance.

Photovoice enables people to capture and reflect on their environments through photography, with the goals of identifying community strengths and concerns, promoting critical dialogue via group discussion of the images, and influencing decision-makers. It is a participatory method that transforms photographs into tools for empowerment, enabling individuals to document and make visible how their spaces shape experience and identity (Wang & Burris, 1997).

The process was both intimate and collaborative (Budig et al. 2018). The first photograph shared depicted several hands placed together on a table, a gesture intended to symbolise connection and unity. Yet, as one of the groups reflected, the positioning also suggested hierarchy: one hand layered over another, creating a visual of dominance rather than equality.

What followed was a moment of quiet awareness and then action. The group decided to rearrange themselves and retake the photograph, this time placing their hands open and evenly spaced, fingertips touching rather than overlapping. The new image radiated mutual respect and balance, a visual embodiment of what it means to move from 'power over' to 'power with.'

An initial gesture of connection that revealed hierarchy.

Reframing equality through mutual respect.

Other images reflected the interplay between space and perception. One participant photographed the museum windows from inside, where the steel bars and glass created a grid of separation. Another moved the interior screen aside and captured a second image but this time looking directly through the clear glass toward the river outside. The difference was striking. One photo held containment; the other, possibility. Together, they spoke of the transition from feeling held to feeling free from guarded safety to gentle openness.

The tree beyond the window — rooted, protected, and turning with the season.

Water flowing beneath the museum: reflection and movement as metaphors for healing.

Through these images and reflections, Photovoice became more than a creative exercise. It became a shared act of seeing, of noticing how trauma-informed values manifest not only in our relationships, but in our gestures, our perspectives, and even the way we frame what is before us.

Throughout the Dream Big Conference, creativity became the language of reflection. Whether through poetry, sand trays, writing, building, or photography, participants embodied what it means to ‘model the model’, to live the principles of trauma-informed practice through connection, curiosity, and compassion.

As the final session closed, we formed a choir back in the ‘Engine Room’ which became the beating heart of our conference. Our voices rose and intertwined, filling the space with resonance that lingered in the air long after the final note. Gratitude hung quietly in the space: for the people who came with open hearts, for the architecture that held us, and for the ongoing work of Trauma Informed Consultancy Services-a community continually shaping not only minds but also spaces that heal.

References

Ames, R. L., & Loebach, J. E. (2023). Applying Trauma-Informed Design Principles to Therapeutic Residential Care Facilities to Reduce Retraumatization and Promote Resiliency Among Youth in Care. Journal of child & adolescent trauma, 16(4), 805–817. https://doi.org/10.1007/s40653-023-00528-y

Budig, K., Diez, J., Conde, P. et al. Photovoice and empowerment: evaluating the transformative potential of a participatory action research project. BMC Public Health 18, 432 (2018). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12889-018-5335-7

Dietkus, R. (2022). The call for trauma‐informed design research and practice. Design Management Review, 33(2), 26-31.

Wang, C., & Burris, M. A. (1997). Photovoice: concept, methodology, and use for participatory needs assessment. Health education & behavior : the official publication of the Society for Public Health Education, 24(3), 369–387. https://doi.org/10.1177/109019819702400309

Reflections on Collective Healing: A Personal Journey and Shared Experience

Written By Ciara McClelland

Reflecting on the powerful workshop we shared at the DREAM BIG conference; I am reminded of how deeply community healing is rooted in my personal journey and practice. Growing up in Ireland, I was surrounded by the traditions of collective connection. Whether it was sitting around a fire, having a cup of tea, sharing stories, music, or simply being in each other's company, I learned early on that healing happens best not in isolation, but in the presence of others.

Community has always been a natural space for healing for me; although the dance between connection and disconnection has been a personal journey for me, one that I’ve always felt deeply devoted to, yet at times challenging to embrace fully.

I’ve spent years gathering with others around fire pits, making music, moving my body and exchanging stories. These gatherings weren’t just about socialising; they were deeply healing. Music, movement, rhythm, and shared experiences. The simple acts of clapping and tapping feet have always been central to my life. These traditions have shaped my practice and my love for collective healing. When we come together as a group, something special happens. We share not only space but also energy, healing, and support.

At the heart of these practices is a shared understanding: healing is not something we do alone. Whether it’s around a fire, over a cuppa, in a circle of friends, or through movement and music, being together creates a sense of safety and connection. This is why I was so eager to bring this approach into the conference space. I wanted to give everyone a glimpse into what collective healing can look like, a space where we come together with the shared intention of healing, not as individuals, but as a community.

During our session, I saw many of you begin to reconnect with your bodies and each other. This was healing in real time. Through movement and grounding, we found safety and support in one another’s presence. While healing is a deeply personal process, something is compelling about coming together as a community. It’s about feeling seen, heard, and supported by others who are on their own healing journeys. We witness each other’s strength, hold space for vulnerability, and find a collective rhythm that creates a sense of safety. This is the heart of collective healing, something I have witnessed time and again in both my home country of Ireland and here with all of you at the conference.

In a world that often emphasises individual success over collective well-being, it’s easy to feel disconnected. But when we slow down, come together, and share stories, music, and time in each other’s presence, we create an environment where healing can flourish. Joining in rhythm and movement, whether through clapping, tapping our feet, or simply holding space for each other, reminds us that we are not alone in our struggles. We are part of something much bigger than ourselves.

In the workshop, I invited you to explore somatic practices designed to reconnect you with your body and with each other. When we create spaces of safety, we allow ourselves to experience healing together, to share in collective strength. The session was a chance to feel the group's support and to recognise how shared energy helps us release tension, process emotions, and restore balance.

Key Somatic Approaches Used in the Workshop:

1. Pendulation (Peter Levine)
   Moving between tension and relaxation to help the nervous system find balance by shifting between discomfort and safety.
2. Butterfly Hug
   A simple somatic technique involving bilateral stimulation, tapping the shoulders to activate the body’s self-soothing systems.
3. Polyvagal Toning (Stephen Porges)
   Stimulating the vagus nerve through breathwork, body awareness, and social connection to promote emotional regulation and relaxation.

These approaches help us reconnect with our bodies, release stored energy, and restore balance. As Bessel van der Kolk writes in The Body Keeps the Score, trauma isn’t just a mental experience; it’s something stored in our bodies. When we experience trauma, its effects often linger physically, through tension, pain, or a sense of disconnection. In the workshop, this became clear as we reconnected with our bodies and released stored energy through breathing (humming), movement, and grounding practices.

Some of you became aware of parts of the body that felt stuck or tense, and some of you found release.

Looking back, I’m struck by the powerful glimpse we got of how collective healing can support our individual and shared recovery. Through movement, breath(humming), and simply being present with each other, we experienced, even briefly, the healing power of coming together as one.

I hope the experience at the conference inspires all of us to cultivate this spirit of collective healing in our own lives, whether in our work, relationships, or communities.

By coming together, witnessing each other, and supporting one another, we create an environment where healing can thrive. This is the true power of community: when we support and care for each other, we can heal not only ourselves but also those around us.

As we close, I want to leave you with a thought from Clarissa Pinkola Estés:

“The collective unconscious is a shared history of pain, love, and wisdom. We have the power to heal this history by becoming present to each other, here and now.”

This quote encapsulates what I believe we experienced together, even for a brief moment. Let’s carry this energy of connection and community with us, knowing that when we heal together, we transform not just our own lives, but the world around us.

References:

Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score (2014)

Peter Levine, Waking the Tiger (1997)

Stephen Porges The Polyvagal Theory (2011)

Stephen Porges, The Pocket Guide to the Polyvagal Theory (2017)

Exploring the Sand Tray Method: A Creative Journey into Reflection

At the Dream Big Conference, I had the privilege of facilitating a workshop as a TICS Associate, exploring the Sand Tray Method inspired by the pioneering research of Dr Debbie Amas. What unfolded in that room was nothing short of a revelation. Participants described the experience with words such as “wow,” “fascinating,” and “a revelation.” It was a creative and deeply human way of uncovering what lies beneath our professional practice, and for many, it offered an entirely new lens for reflection and understanding.

Setting the Scene

The room was arranged in a classic clinical layout, with small clusters of tables, each holding a sand tray surrounded by three chairs. Every tray was filled with soft, tactile sand, ready for exploration. Around the room, shelves and tables displayed a wide range of small world objects designed to evoke curiosity and imagination. There were miniature people and animals, trees and houses, bridges and tunnels, cars and boats. Buttons, beads, stones, feathers, and shells offered a variety of textures; items that shimmered or appeared shadowed provided light and dark contrasts, allowing for play with trauma inducing and trauma reducing themes.

In reflective and therapeutic work, these small world objects serve as symbols and metaphors that bridge the conscious and the unconscious. Selecting and arranging them externalises feelings and ideas that may be difficult to articulate.  As Carl Jung wrote, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.” The sand tray provides a contained, safe space where inner experience can take shape and be witnessed with compassion and curiosity.

My Journey with the Sand Tray

As an Arts Psychotherapist, my practice is grounded in creativity and expression. My early training in the Jungian approach serves as a bridge to the unconscious, where clients explore symbolic imagery in the presence of a trained therapist. This is a therapeutic process that requires professional qualification, clinical supervision, and experience in supporting complex emotional material.

Later, through training with Dr Debbie Amas, I discovered how the sand tray could also be used as a reflective tool for professionals. Dr Amas’s Sand Tray Method transforms the principles of sand play into a structured process for professional learning and insight. It allows practitioners to engage creatively with their work, exploring practice dilemmas, relationships, and emotions in a safe, contained way.

Both approaches share a respect for the symbolic, but their purposes differ. Jungian sand play therapy is used for healing and personal transformation and must be delivered by a clinically trained therapist. The Sand Tray Method, developed by Dr Amas, is designed for reflection, supervision, and learning. It does not require a therapeutic qualification but benefits from facilitation training and a commitment to safe, reflective practice.

The Amas Method in Practice

Dr Amas’s research identifies seven key steps:

1. Introduce the method and explain its purpose.
2. Provide a tray, sand, and a range of objects.
3. Invite participants to build a scene representing an aspect of their work.
4. Allow quiet time for the creative process.
5. Invite the participant to describe their scene.
6. Explore the meaning, symbols, and relationships that emerge.
7. Conclude with discussion and reflection to integrate learning.

As Dr Amas writes, “The sand tray becomes an artefact, an object rich with significance and imagery that acts as a metaphor for its maker, providing opportunities to crystallise complex stories in our case work for examination.”

Reflections from the Workshop

The session quickly became a space of discovery. Participants moved from hesitation to deep engagement as trays filled with images, patterns, discovery, and a chance to frame and reframe experiences. One professional shared that she had been carrying a sadness that did not quite feel like her own. Together we explored this, and she realised it might belong to one of her clients. I invited her to choose an object to represent that sadness and place it in the sand. As she did, she said she felt lighter, as though she could see her client’s sadness with empathy, yet at a safe distance.

This was a powerful reminder of how the sand tray acts as a container. In caring professions, we can easily absorb others' emotions, risking vicarious trauma. The tray holds what might otherwise be held inside the practitioner. It allows us to look at emotions rather than from them, creating psychological space and capacity. It reminds us that we are not the containers for other people’s trauma, but facilitators of safety, reflection, and understanding.

Many participants commented on the power of play and how rare it is to have permission to play as adults. They described how the experience took them out of their heads and into their bodies, reconnecting them with intuition and feeling. Emotions moved some who had not realised they were holding them. Others felt relief, clarity, and connection. One person said, “I got so much from this workshop. It helped me see my work differently and make sense of things I did not realise I was carrying.”

Practical Guidance for Using the Method

Several participants asked how they could use this method in real time. My advice is to start small. Collect a compact set of objects that feel meaningful to you, perhaps figures, a bridge, a stone, a feather, or a small vehicle and use a small tray or a lunchbox with a lid. It fits easily in a backpack and can travel with you, making reflection accessible wherever you are.

Self care is essential. Sand tray work can surface unexpected feelings. Having an observer or colleague present can help hold the process safely. It is also helpful to check in with a colleague or supervisor afterwards or in the days that follow, and to keep brief process notes. These practices support emotional containment and integration.

The Sand Tray Method can be used in many professional contexts. It is particularly valuable when practitioners feel stuck with a client dynamic, when a team needs perspective, or when parallel processes seem to be playing out in relationships. By engaging symbolically and sensorially, we often find a quicker route to insight and greater empathy for ourselves and others.

The Art and Texture of the Day

Our illustrator, Emma, captured the day's atmosphere through beautiful workshop graphics that reflected its texture, emotion, and playfulness. Her visuals offer a lasting reminder of how creativity and reflection intertwine.

Facilitating this workshop reaffirmed for me the transformative power of creative methods in professional learning. The sand tray invites us to slow down, to make meaning, and to see beneath the surface. Every tray becomes a reflection of the brave and curious mind that created it.

Reference:
Amas, D. (2023). Using the sand tray method as a reflective learning tool in social work practice education. Social Work Education.

Reflections on the TICS Dream Big Conference

By Dr Arzhia Habibi

Workshop 1 in Collaboration with Somerset Smith from the Manchester Poetry Library:

Writing & Vulnerability

Creativity and the arts was certainly a theme present in the TICS conference. So in collaboration with Manchester Poetry Library and Somerset Smith, we donned our creative and writerly hats to explore how writing and poetry could be used as tool for cultivating personal wellbeing, as well as practices which could help understand wider experiences and peoples in our professional settings.

On the day, we gathered in the ‘Learning Studio’, a classroom styled space with bright white light, different from the spacious expanse and balmy warm glow of the ‘Engine Room’. Yet whilst we squeezed together in the classroom space, our close proximity became part of a collective reflection on writing and vulnerability. So with prompts and poetry ready, it was time to put pen to paper.

We began with an observational writing activity with the aid of a few hand-made ceramic pots Somerset and I had brought from our homes. This focused our attention, externalising the process of writing through attention on an object. A practice which could be traced within Indigenous traditions, it involves understanding how each person will have a unique vision on a common object. The activity seemed to land within the group, with a few participants remarking how this practice could be adapted for their own settings as it was a gentle start to writing in a non-intrusive manner. 

Now the room was warm with words, we moved to a more substantial writerly exploration of memory and felt experience. We began imagining possible futures, then wrote about our immediate present, and concluded with memories. Following this prompt, the group reflected on the vulnerability of being in close physical proximity to one another, whilst potentially writing from tender territory. However, this tender writing position provided an opportunity to get a sense of what it might feel like when we ask people or children at work to be vulnerable for us, through sharing their own stories and histories.  

As conversations deepened and we wished to have enough time for feedback, Somerset and I agreed to skip our blackout poetry activity, a practice which involves reading through an existing text, and "blacking out" words which do not personally resonate with a marker, thereby forming a new poem. We had chosen three poems: My Species by Jane Hirshfield, The Welcome by Imtiaz Dhakar, and For One Who is Exhausted by John O’Donohue. We suggested that working with existing material can provide support when facing a blank white page, which can at times, feel intimidating. As we moved to conclude with group feedback, we suggested to participants to write down one word to gift to someone else. A gentle offering for connection.

It's not easy putting pen to paper, and additionally, writing from a place of heart and experience. Writing and vulnerability also doesn’t always equal wellbeing (Shaw, 2025). Yet as we learn how to refine our practices for poetry and writing we can, in the words of Jericho Brown, make clear our lives on paper (Brown, 2020) and become greater trauma-informed and creative practitioners.

Photo 1: Pots, poems and prompts.

Workshop 2 Working Cross-Culturally and Intersectionally, How to Honour our Multiple Identities:

Widening our Visions of Belonging

Where could we begin in exploring this dynamic, tender and layered topic in such a short time, knowing that we would all surely be arriving with our own frames, frailties and ideals? Still, surely we had to at least try to collectively grapple with how we might work cross-culturally and intersectionally, in a manner which honours our multiple identities. Leaning into this seems to me to be central to an-ever evolving and attentive trauma-informed conversation, where we’re continually widening our visions of belonging.

So, in this attempt at having a conversation, I decided to anchor the workshop in the principles and practices of humility, honouring and witness. This was informed by a personal commitment to the ethical, moral and spiritual underpinnings to intersectional and cross-cultural practice, and my recent start of training in Systemic Family Therapy, a modality committed to anti-oppressive practice.

In considering how we might honour these different parts of ourselves, context is key. So often we forget that our circumstances and conditions shape how we understand and relate to the world and people around us. Perhaps we think we’re experts on family dynamics, children’s perspectives, SEND, cultural (mis)representation and so much more, yet we’re always limited in our visions and understandings based on what we experienced. For example, where we might believe we’re witnessing ‘dysfunction’ in a family or social context, we might in fact be mis-reading a particular cultural dynamic because of our own upbringing.

We all have our prejudices, and I think we need to approach them with humility and a kind criticality so we have the impetus to collectively more forward and do better.

In post-workshop reflections, I was able to briefly chat with one participant who expressed how this language of honouring our multiple identities and experiences needed to be woven into mainstream discourse. I left pondering how our Dream Big Conference’s vocabularies, frames and facilitators could reflect an expanded vision of belonging which truly reckons with anti-oppressive practice, power, inequality and diversity in the context of trauma-informed work. Like with many folks, we have work to do to centralise this conversation in a manner which is not tokenistic. As I contemplate resources and readings that are helping refine my own practice and understanding, I share with you some offerings which were suggested by wise and experienced practitioners and professionals:

• Intersectionality Wheel Diagram published in Everyone Belongs. A Toolkit for Applying Intersectionality (2009, p. 6). This wheel was printed out for each group as an aid to think through the layers of context at play in their lives and professional settings. Additionally, elements of the wheel, along with newspaper cuttings and other imagery and words, were torn up and placed on the table for participants’ own collage-making, an activity which explored different fragments of self (visible and invisible).
• Halevy, Julia. “A GENOGRAM WITH AN ATTITUDE.” Journal of marital and family therapy 24.2 (1998): 233–242. I drew on this paper to frame our conversation on the need to recognise and grapple with how our own circumstances and social conditions shapes the way we relate and understand one another.

Perhaps a few seeds were sown through our workshop conversation. Yet the work of tilling the soil in our own hearts and social settings would have to continue on our own clocks. Still, I am hopeful that we can continue to widen a vision of belonging as we listen to, honour, learn from and collaborate with historically silenced voices and communities. On one of the whiteboards in our ‘Learning Lab’ it was written: “Deeds, not words”. Perhaps a call and reminder of the perils of saying we’ve mastered something (intersectionality, cross-cultural understanding etc.) when our actions say otherwise. I hold this in mind and heart as I take steps to try to deepen consciousness and practice on what it truly means to be ‘trauma-informed’.

Photo 2: Whiteboard words -- an invitation, a reminder, a call?

Closing Note – From Jessica Jane Parker, Director of TICS

As I reflect on the Dream Big Conference 2025, I am filled with deep gratitude and admiration for the courage, creativity, and care that each person brought into that shared space. What began as the visionary idea of Dr Lisa Cherry, our founder and Director at the time, became a collective act of learning and belonging that continues to ripple far beyond the day itself.

This conference was never just about gathering professionals. It was about gathering people; humans who hold, heal, teach, lead, and hope. The conversations, art, movement, writing, and song that filled the People’s History Museum reminded us all that trauma-informed practice is not a checklist; it is a way of being. It lives in our relationships, in our willingness to listen, and in our ability to create spaces that are safe enough for honesty, curiosity, and connection.

As the current Director of TICS, it is both a privilege and a responsibility to continue carrying forward this legacy, ensuring that the principles of safety, empowerment, inclusion, and compassion remain at the heart of everything we do. The blogs within this collection are a testament to what happens when those principles are lived, not just spoken. They reflect the spirit of TICS: a community committed to growth, reflection, and genuine human connection.

To everyone who attended, facilitated, wrote, supported, or showed up with an open mind: thank you. You helped make Dream Big 2025 a moment of shared humanity that will continue to shape our work and our hearts.

As we look to the future, may we keep dreaming, not just big, but bravely.
May we continue to model the model, to listen deeply, and to build together the kinds of spaces, relationships, and systems where people can truly heal and belong.

With warmth and gratitude,
Jessica Jane Parker
Director, Trauma Informed Consultancy Services (TICS)