A little introduction

Hello,
I’m Sacha.

Hello,
I’m Sacha.

Hello,
I’m Sacha.

Musician, writer and teacher, making room for creativity, rest and renewal.

Musician, writer and teacher, making room for creativity, rest and renewal.

My story

My work has never fitted neatly into one category

My work has never fitted neatly into one category

My work has never fitted neatly into one category

I have spent much of my life singing, writing, teaching, raising children, creating gatherings, and exploring the quieter practices that help us meet ourselves — and the complexities of modern life — with greater authenticity, aliveness and joy.


Over the years, my work has taken me to many different places — performing on stages large and small, teaching groups of all sizes internationally, and founding and running both a yoga centre and a creative residency.

For eight years, I lived in Corfu, where motherhood, music and time in nature — by the sea, among the olive groves and in the garden — profoundly shaped the way I understand creativity, rest and sanctuary.


Before that, I spent eight years living on a boat on the edge of London, performing and recording music as a signed artist with a boutique label created as a labour of love by several established music publishers.


I now live on a farm in the UK, where I continue to make music, write, and create spaces in which people can pause, listen, reconnect with themselves and make room for what matters.

I have spent much of my life singing, writing, teaching, raising children, creating gatherings, and exploring the quieter practices that help us meet ourselves — and the complexities of modern life — with greater authenticity, aliveness and joy.


Over the years, my work has taken me to many different places — performing on stages large and small, teaching groups of all sizes internationally, and founding and running both a yoga centre and a creative residency.

For eight years, I lived in Corfu, where motherhood, music and time in nature — by the sea, among the olive groves and in the garden — profoundly shaped the way I understand creativity, rest and sanctuary.


Before that, I spent eight years living on a boat on the edge of London, performing and recording music as a signed artist with a boutique label created as a labour of love by several established music publishers.


I now live on a farm in the UK, where I continue to make music, write, and create spaces in which people can pause, listen, reconnect with themselves and make room for what matters.

The common thread


Whether I am performing the songs of Leonard Cohen, recording contemplative music, helping someone find greater freedom in their voice, writing about motherhood, or guiding a room into deep rest, the intention is much the same:


To create enough space for something with depth, honesty and aliveness to emerge.


I am also interested in the place where art, spirituality and ordinary life meet — a song around a campfire, a poem written while a baby sleeps, laundry folded as a meditative practice, or a group of people moving or singing together.


Living artfully, and noticing the magic hidden in the mundane, are threads that run through everything I do.

The common thread


Whether I am performing the songs of Leonard Cohen, recording contemplative music, helping someone find greater freedom in their voice, writing about motherhood, or guiding a room into deep rest, the intention is much the same:


To create enough space for something with depth, honesty and aliveness to emerge.


I am also interested in the place where art, spirituality and ordinary life meet — a song around a campfire, a poem written while a baby sleeps, laundry folded as a meditative practice, or a group of people moving or singing together.


Living artfully, and noticing the magic hidden in the mundane, are threads that run through everything I do.

the 3 pillars

My Creative World

why i do what i do

Experience and practice

Experience and practice

Experience and practice

I have worked as a singer and performer for most of my life.


I first began singing professionally as a teenager — joining bands, playing tiny shows in dimly lit rooms, and recording my own songs and the songs of others, across many genres, studios and stages.


In my twenties, I signed a music publishing deal and spent several years honing my craft alongside extraordinary musicians, performing on larger stages and in renowned venues in London and Paris, and occasionally playing live on national radio across Europe.


Then, while recording an album, I went through the painful experience of completely losing my voice.


That period changed the course of my work. It led me first to study vocal technique, then to recover my voice — physically and, in some ways, metaphorically — and eventually to train as a voice teacher with IVA. I continue to be fascinated by the voice: not only as an instrument, but as something intimately connected to confidence, expression and our sense of who we are.


Alongside music, I have always gravitated towards meditation and ways of understanding the nature of the mind and of life. For more than 28 years I have studied yoga and explored mantra, and over the past decade my practice has become increasingly rooted in Tibetan Buddhism and feminine mysticism. My work is also informed by Nonviolent Communication, coaching and mediation, which I draw upon when holding sessions, retreats and creative spaces.


My approach — whether I am on stage, teaching a group or working with someone privately — is responsive rather than prescriptive. I begin by listening for what is needed in the moment and, to the best of my ability, follow wherever that leads.


I don’t really see the various paths I walk as separate strands. Each informs the others. Motherhood is music is meditation; creativity belongs to ordinary life, and ordinary life continually finds its way back into the work.

Technique matters — but so do imagination, courage, humour, rest and the life surrounding the work.


In the end, perhaps the most important thing is not what we do, but who we are as we do it.

I have worked as a singer and performer for most of my life.


I first began singing professionally as a teenager — joining bands, playing tiny shows in dimly lit rooms, and recording my own songs and the songs of others, across many genres, studios and stages.


In my twenties, I signed a music publishing deal and spent several years honing my craft alongside extraordinary musicians, performing on larger stages and in renowned venues in London and Paris, and occasionally playing live on national radio across Europe.


Then, while recording an album, I went through the painful experience of completely losing my voice.


That period changed the course of my work. It led me first to study vocal technique, then to recover my voice — physically and, in some ways, metaphorically — and eventually to train as a voice teacher with IVA. I continue to be fascinated by the voice: not only as an instrument, but as something intimately connected to confidence, expression and our sense of who we are.


Alongside music, I have always gravitated towards meditation and ways of understanding the nature of the mind and of life. For more than 28 years I have studied yoga and explored mantra, and over the past decade my practice has become increasingly rooted in Tibetan Buddhism and feminine mysticism. My work is also informed by Nonviolent Communication, coaching and mediation, which I draw upon when holding sessions, retreats and creative spaces.


My approach — whether I am on stage, teaching a group or working with someone privately — is responsive rather than prescriptive. I begin by listening for what is needed in the moment and, to the best of my ability, follow wherever that leads.


I don’t really see the various paths I walk as separate strands. Each informs the others. Motherhood is music is meditation; creativity belongs to ordinary life, and ordinary life continually finds its way back into the work.

Technique matters — but so do imagination, courage, humour, rest and the life surrounding the work.


In the end, perhaps the most important thing is not what we do, but who we are as we do it.

Come In

Come In

Come In

Whether you arrive through a song, an essay, a retreat or a quiet conversation, I’m grateful you’ve found your way here. I hope this becomes a place where you can pause, breathe and remember something essential about yourself.


Whether you arrive through a song, an essay, a retreat or a quiet conversation, I’m grateful you’ve found your way here. I hope this becomes a place where you can pause, breathe and remember something essential about yourself.


BEGIN HERE