all these stories got me thinking.

In the loudness of everything of the world at the moment, something I feel we are all sharing in -I have been escaping into childhood worlds. The stories.

Rereading favourite series like Jean M Auel’s tale of Ayla, even befalling upon Harry Potter once again having found such a tension with it for a while and finding a great respect for Anne Hathaway (Princess Diaries, Devil Wears Prada etc) after years of deciding she was “so annoying”.

I think I see in my responses to things that were once precious, a fear of being vulnerable and threatened by strong individuals with great character and integrity.

I’ve caught myself looking at it in all the wrong, just as I have been guilty to do so in my day to day with the people I hold dearest and even those I don’t.

It’s all been a comparison game, all against others.

I loathed to be vulnerable out of fear. Because I am very afraid, especially of more hurt and I often forget to grant others those same fears, recognize we are all experiencing the strange, lonely, rollercoaster experience of life.

Isolating. It has been easier to isolate myself within all my shame, then to actually be brave and let myself be seen.

However in revisiting these stories, watching the arc of development of a character in whichever media, reflecting upon my own growth I see again that compassion for experiencing is vital.

If I can so easily empathize and be brought to tears by others finding themselves, perhaps I can do so for myself. Even more so to trust others that witness I, to have the same sentiment.

I have learnt a lot more about privilege lately too, the last few years really, seen where I thought I lacked it, noticing representation in everything or the lack thereof.

Lack is a state I get all too caught in, living in scarcity, feeling I am worth so little, I couldn’t possibly take up more room. I couldn’t ask, I couldn’t spend, I couldn’t breathe and I certainly couldn’t say no.

Nowadays I understand the precarious nature of balance more then ever, and how it is never quite struck -we live upon the beam of which we must maintain our equilibrium, and that is an act of love in itself.

It is loving to honour ourselves first, it is loving to find our own resource to draw upon -just as much as it is to show up for others, or ask for help when needed.

In that, we need to know what we need though. To discover ourselves is our journey.

I’m so tired of feeling envious of others, of holding expectations they’ll never meet, of thinking about hierarchy and what’s fair. I cannot treat myself like the dirt on others shoes, and yet consider my thoughts to be the truest as though I am some spiritual entity. Human life is nuanced.

These stories are helping me reflect, find more compassion, revisiting old joys reminds me it’s okay to feel wonder. It’s okay to be myself. Even if I’m messy.

I think even more apt is that it is okay to trust me -that is what I need, for me and so I can trust others. Love me, so I can love others and be loved. Know my body and I can work together for safety, so that others aren’t constantly needed to pull me out of the rapids.

Stories can be fresh air when we have held ourselves in tight stuffy boxes.

I just feel tremendous gratitude for humans and their fumbly, loving and nervous ways.

If I can feel such utter light in my heart for everyone else, how can I continue to turn that inward where it is most needing to be received?

Go read an old book, or relish in an old movie, even stumble upon old photos -see if without dwelling you can simply find an arc of your own, because nothing is simply linear.

Much love x

the need to save, rather than savour?

I’ve been thinking a lot, as I usually do -this is about how all these posts start, eh?

Today I cleansed through a mountainous books I’ve been meaning to read, some for years and about 15 or so, I finally decided to let go of. Let something else rejoice in their knowledge.

Now for me, I like to cling to every bit of life I can experience and learn -but in recently reading a book about love, one of the things it shared of most, often in not committing to one thing, we end up missing out on most of the things.

I should read this book, I want to learn about this -but then why haven’t I picked it up before? Many had scattered bookmarks from attempts and often in the need to complete this one said pile, I ended up not leaning into the excitement of something I truly wished to devour.

For what? Am I proving something?

Now oddly with that small cull, I find myself with space, both physically and mentally, my brain already settles with a gap on my shelf and although I currently feel no urgency to fill it, there is now possibility for more there once more.

I think I’m starting to learn this about money too, I’ve lived in this frighteningly scarce mindset considering I’ve always notoriously ensured a nest egg for rainy days (which I’ll have you know, I am yet to have tapped into). I’ll put myself through rotten food and have regularly avoided supportive appointments for cost. Which ultimately may grant me the comfort that’ll allow me a position to be more plentiful with my work. I am deeply ashamed and embarrassed of just how deeply my complex with cash lies, how it affects my relationships and my comfort. I think I’m starting to realize that every cent spent (mindfully) is actually an investment in a more abundant life. More capability to work, healthier, equality within the people I share with, celebrating my people and most importantly it is an affirmation of the value of my own individual experience (something I find personally troubling).

Some may laugh, but I’ll recite the quote that hung on the wall in A Cinderella Story (Hilary Duff’s prime if you ask me).
Don’t let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game.
Which I think for too long -although I have been on a gradual movement toward it throughout my twenties as realizations and awareness develops, for too long I have let fear dominate me. I have let criticism be the narrative, mostly of myself, which means unspeakable standards for those closest -which means unattainable desires and perpetuating this belief I don’t deserve happiness.

I have been waking up lately, trying to choose otherwise. Choose love, choosing to let go, choosing to be brave and ask for a thing, say a thing, be a thing, be myself.

It is horrifying in so many ways, but also liberating -despite the countless panic attacks I’ve endured, despite this new stranger insecurity of being vulnerable, rather then fear of bearing my weakness, there is insecurity because I am bearing my heart on my sleeve. Probably where it belongs, where all of ours should when safe.

Because I mostly am safe now, I’ve got all these little trigger points and anxieties, these holds up, all resoundingly interweaved with the complications that arose in childhood. I need to remind myself daily that the fear I feel now is rarely from the present, it is from a past long gone.

I don’t want to save everything for “one day” anymore, because I know I only have now, however uncomfortable that may be itself. I am here and I am experiencing, and I more then anyone should know that life can be stripped from you, perfect and dutiful behaviour aside.
I want to get through all my favourite things, reach the end of its cycle and celebrate its depart gracefully.

Because eventually, I will have to do so with everything, with everyone, whether I am going first, or they are.

It is a truly wonderful thing really for something to have been used up. You can’t imagine the giggles I fell into recently when the first really lush sports bra I purchased for these nunga-nungas elastic fell apart in my hands. It had literally held me up until the end. I threw a bloody ceremony for it in my head. Or looking now at a jar of body butter I bought so so many years ago, so excited because it smelt like blueberry and I never splashed out on treats, gosh I can’t wait for that jar to be used, because somehow I’ve grown out of the smell, and “beauty” shit ain’t my flavour any longer. But then again, can I let it go now anyway? I really do hate wastage.

I am learning the black and whites I have relied on as rules, are no longer so solid in standing, as everything is far more absurd, nuanced and complex as simple binaries.
You know, moderation is key in some instances, but at other times it’s good to send it, and there are other times we shouldn’t indulge at all -whatever our body may tell us it craves.

It is discipline over ourselves, somehow I think that is actually where freedom sits. It is being the master of our choices, even the difficult ones, even the ugh I don’t want to pick the healthier one, even the choice of putting down our ego to properly reflect and apologize to those we have wronged.

So here we are, I thought it was a post about stuff, but really I’m just really proud as I slowly recondition the inside of my brain, I let old ideas be challenged, I muck up quite a bit, I try again. I trust the universe or my own determination will let the right things come back, even if they come as an opportunity to make the right choice this time.

Just learning, life is truly a wild ride and right now I’m so grateful to be so sore, and so alone at my house, and so exhausted, and a little anxious, because without this empty space, this null restless void, I perhaps wouldn’t have been able to ponder my way to another reflection of gratitude and wonder at how this experience unfolds.

wait, I think I might be awesome?

Fucking vanity and modesty yo, I wish no such concepts were ever introduced to me.

In trying to not be too far one way or another, I’m destroying the lot of it.

I finally managed to sort a little formatting job I’ve put literally putting off for years, in about 5 minutes of googling and settings.

Through that I’m now flicking through old photos and I’m recalling all the shit I have done!

I’ve been so focused on all the things I haven’t yet found success, but like what the fuck, I’ve conquered many mountains, figuratively and literally!

I’m finding so much proof of the pride I’ve experienced in celebrating other peoples wins, like my sister graduating, an online friends engagement ceremony and my opa’s 90th birthday just for a few! I love celebrating my people, so why am I so self depreciating that I’d believe my people don’t want to celebrate me?!

I might not be where I’d like to be on a lot of things, I’m still pretty stingy, I’m a little slow on sharing what makes me uncomfortable until it blows, I really like to be the favourite and I think that creates resentment on both ends of relationships because I try too hard and expect the same back, I still interpret some things a little too literally and I haven’t quite let go of my past for the future I now actually want -and yet!

I fucking booked a solo traipse up the world on a whim, quitting my longest holding job. I got down to skin and bone off heatstroke and still managed to get through to Nepal and hike up to watch a sunrise over top of the Himalayas with a fat smile on my face. I got myself somewhere safe when Cambodia brought darkness. I let my family embrace and care for me in the Netherlands, even as I began to shut down. I got to revisit the place of my childhood dreams, recalling what wonder can feel like after a hard New Zealand Summer leaving the person I thought I’d be with forever.

I have now done about 37 major art pieces, ranging from large city scale murals to live paints at events and the like -while despite the struggles contributed continuously to one of the most wild underground immersive art events in New Zealand.

I’ve managed to work through multiple addictions and endure against a long standing history of disordered eating. I’ve asked for help, I’ve made those choices for myself. I’ve relapsed and I’ve reflected, although never do I claim I’m out of the woods, I have a pretty good scope of them now, can even wander around the edges.

I have managed to commit myself to 4 pretty major relationships, all which taught and helped me grow -I loved fierce and I was loved, even if they weren’t right for me -and now I’m trying to do so again! Woah! Brave heart!

I have lost some of the key people in my life and used it as fuel to live harder, despite the weight of the grief. I have likely played it down, so now I reconnect with the grief I’ve pretended never existed.

This year through weekly, sometimes daily panic attacks, I’ve gotten better at stopping, resting and getting out faster. That is a fucking feat of the gods. FUCK panic attacks is all I can say. I’m after finishing up appointments at the start of the year in the last month with the support of those closest managed to find new professional support and am once again trialling medication to support me through the brain that overwhelms me between the sunshine.

A few years ago, you could barely get me to look at a camera, I’ve now shot with multiple photographers proving my sensuality and sense of power in a captured form. I can now take those photos myself, although when it comes to mates, I still get ridiculous and I actually love that for me.

I still start the dance floor – I think it was last year I recalled a long lost memory of how often I’d lead a little crew of kids dancing on the school steps in primary, around 5 or 6 – I felt sad I’d lost that bravery, but in fact it wasn’t lost, not with dance. I am known for how hard I go still, and that is with the bucketload of pain that comes with, which I only found out this year few had any idea of -twerking hurts baby.

I have always managed to uphold the silly, even during periods of trying to change for others, my silliness prevails and I’m fucking proud of how often I find myself crying with laughter, not everybody is so lucky. I’m happy to be an enabler for others silliness, I mean during one festival I got about 20 odd people on to an accent I speak in for play. Infectious in the way I’m proud to be.

That is just the majors, it isn’t the fact I’m currently in the process of having to look them in the eye while they’re talking to me about something that makes me uncomfortable, or that I let myself skip another festival I felt I should be at, or that last night I made a really beautiful dinner and enjoyed every bite, or that I just booked a follow up doctors appointment to the one it took me months and multiple people gently reminding me to book a few weeks ago.

You might not want to hear all this, and that is so okay, this one I’m writing for me. I might forget all this by tomorrow, but don’t be afraid to remind me to come back to this. I really want to find the love for myself, the compassion I so easily fling toward you – and in this process, I can’t promise I’ll be as present -in fact I’ll be trying to show up when I authentically can No more half assed yeses, and I hope you will still want to be along for the ride.

So here is to another reminder that I’m actually awesome -fucking messy, a little unhinged, fucking up and real exhausted, but worthy of love regardless. (As are you) x

lessons learnt.

There is something to be said for travel that really just helps a lot of things hit home, hard.

For example, traveling like a stooge, is truly no fun at all.

Hell, living like a stooge is no fun at all.

I’m sure the company I keep would share my sentiment -thank you for your patience friends.

I booked this trip, on a whim, with a frankly embarrassing amount of trust and expectation that my people would be able to house me and care for me after the flights crippled my wallet -and to their credit, a few have absolutely stepped up to the plate, and my depressed ass is so grateful.

In this scenario, here is lesson one, don’t book an overseas trip last minute without plenty of spare cash and with the understanding not everybody has as fluid a schedule as you.

Lesson two, if you do book the trip overseas, and are overthinking the money, don’t -spend it, you can earn it back -I can acknowledge every single trip, even domestic, I actually just regret the things I didn’t do.

Lesson three, if you’ve been experiencing a mental breakdown for the last few months, boosting overseas will not distract you from your woes, only highlight them. I really convinced myself that because I had already booked, that the multiple panic attacks a day prior to leaving probably meant I just needed to buck up and go in order to prove myself to be brave enough to survive. Apparently getting myself out of my bed into my own city was probably achievement enough.

Lesson four, you need down time -you need your little rituals, you need a safe space to settle at some point. It never ceases to amaze me how tired our little bodies get wandering around looking at things, but they do -although that isn’t including the anxiety of a new place, jetlag and disruption to routines, not to mention seemingly never enough water and inconsistent eating. I’ve been reading oracle most mornings and making a hot beverage and a few evenings have been spent in front of the couch with a little TV. I myself know I specifically do not do well in spontaneity, as much as I’d love to be a jetsetter.

Lesson five, you are not a jet setter, you are you. Gosh I’ve always aspired to be one of those fun, fluid, easygoing explorers who doesn’t need a myriad of medications and comfort items to survive -but instead I’m highly anxious, easily overstimulated, always worried about money and have a bunch of health issues that are disruptive enough in my own home space type of explorer. I’m not saying I can’t travel, I’m saying I need to travel smarter, which brings me to…

Lesson six, explore the outdoors, explore outside the city, find the quiet. This is a realm I travel in well, on this trip it wasn’t until we got access to a car and were able to drive down long highways and eventually little off roads to find pockets of quiet that I finally remembered who I am. How I breathe. It reminds me even that upon returning home, I want less time in the city. It is homemade lunches and discovering strange stores and barefoot on grass and sand. Even within the city, it is finding tiny pockets of tranquility.

Lesson seven (and perhaps the hardest pill to swallow as of now), you can come home early. I try to not live with regret, but this is potentially one of those trips I shouldn’t have come on in the first place, I’d likely be a little more settled, already have a new counsellor and have a much happier account. However I have seen some things (BIRDS), I’ve got to share time with a few of my favourite humans, I’ve learnt a lot and I managed to start in on a new medication (which I hate doing). So despite the rather hefty financial loss, my highly wired exhausted brain and the fact I’m putting up with these cramps on the move without Frank (my perpetual period support shark) -I am glad I came roundabout. I have gone ahead and written off the second leg of my trip with a direct flight home from Melbourne very soon. However seeing as I have a few more days here, I am going to attempt to make the most of them, especially since my insides are bleeding out and I keep wanting to cry.

Lesson eight, this too shall pass. In a few weeks this will be nothing more then a memory, and in a few after that, I’ll probably have paid the lot off anyhow. In days my cramps will settle (until next time) and I’ll be curled up with my favourite smells at home, spending the currency I know -likely missing the trains and the crazy wildlife, and begin daydreaming once more about the wider world forgetting it can be quite a stressful venture to experience it.

Bonus lesson – You will always pack too much, and stop trying to make the clothes and the materials work that don’t, I always want to come home and dump a bunch of stuff, almost without fail.

Lesson nine (like 9 hours later after cramps kicking in full blast and a transfer between places), people are fucking wonderful and you have fantastic fucking friends. Humans are all big fat complicated messes, and that is a divine thing. I can feel how crazy a standard I’ve been holding myself to in these soft moments, usually coming off high dose painkillers (or hormonal) -I’ve been so horrible to myself. Whereas now I’m tucked up under a knitted blanket with a hot water bottle, a cup of spicy tea and a full belly of nourishing toast -and that is enough. I have been so held by people both here and the ones back home. So much gratitude and love, which I’m trying to turn upon myself so y’all don’t have to do the work for me.

We are all just constantly learning, and some lessons need to be learnt twice, thrice and ten times over. I’m always trying, that is what I can give myself credit, and slowly more and more of these lessons (and more) gently settle in.

Funny how a little rest actually does help regulate eh?

Going to be nice to be home with a whole new appreciation for it.

But also nice to have a few more days with a different mindset to explore a new place which having had a week here, is familiar enough I can move myself around it.

Phew and with that, imma continue going slow.

what is power?

Has it been a chaotic winter? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Did I think I’d gotten away with it, until I realized I definitely didn’t? Yep.

And yet, am I still here? Did I achieve things? Did I continue to grow? Did I experience joy? Did I love? Did I actually manage to find joy in the struggle against the currents? Yeah I did.

I know every year, every month, moment and choice refines us just a little more, but this year, it has been something else. This year I’ve watched as years of struggle, of therapy, of reading up, of trial and error has allowed the coping mechanisms that I’ve been fighting to implement for what feels like forever, actually settle into my own natural rhythm.

I’ve made more choices for myself within 2023 then it feels I have for the entirety of my life. I’ve skipped events, allowed myself to let go (even temporarily) of all the relationships but the very closest, I’ve practiced honesty within my experience and I’ve let people surprise me.

I’ve actually taken a step back to acknowledge the enormous achievement of the last years, and frankly this lifetime. You know I still catch myself dismissing my career as an artist, but a few weeks ago in writing a list I discovered since that fateful whale at XCHC 2021, I have painted a total of 34 murals, some of them BIG. Within such spaces, I’ve helped host 4.5 of the Mary Hush events, spent almost 2 years working with St John, formulated a proposal for an entirely new book in the future and done a fair chunk on my first -without the tumultuous pressure of completing it in a hurry. I’ve attended multiple festivals, as your personal PA, sign guy, support bean, silly goober and dance floor extraordinaire. I’ve been apart of a home for OVER 2 years and within the last week BOUGHT my next! I HAVE A TRUCK. I have survived through my mental health and the ever growing challenge of my periods and hormones, lived through multiple loves and learnt tremendously through it -meanwhile being apart of such a phenomenal (and busy) community and re-establishing ties with the bloodline. I even do bloody massage and took singing lessons?!?

Having a whole moment while typing this out of like, BRUH why have I been so fucking unfair to myself?!? -I am becoming that bitch (as in that bitch with all heart through honouring myself and my gifts). I have been for many years developing into a person my little me could only dream of, and here I am -and you know last year I had a little crisis for a while through recognizing I had already ticked off the majority of my goals, so what now, why still bother? Because there is still a lot of pain I’m working through constantly, grief for what has been lost, physical ache, frustration with myself as I try to gently untangle a lifetime of conditioning. Except now with the support of the people around me, and through my own damn audacity, I found new aspirations -new possibilities of what I could ACTUALLY have in my life! That is mental. That is worth sharing and celebrating.

You know sometimes I really hate the truth there is to the notion of sometimes it has to fall apart, to come together. Because each time I break apart, I snap, I find grace for myself like I hadn’t before. Am I still embarrassed? Yeah. Do I want to use that as fuel to find more health and wealth within me? Why wouldn’t I? Do I sound like a broken record? Potentially, but that is learning.

The strangest thing about mental health is how ridiculous you feel when your thoughts simmer back into the realm of rationality, you’re reminded nothing is as loud as you think it is. You recall the endless love and support holding you up. You remember who You are.

I am already in my power, it isn’t about “stepping into it”, because I already found it when I chose this life despite the heartache a long time ago.

Power might be mistaken within this society as money, or hold over others, but I feel in my heart, that power is in the holding of yourself. Right now? I feel a little unstoppable, hiccups of the eve aside, with the understanding by 3pm I’ll have likely crashed within my reflections and be feeling less then, with the acknowledgement of many struggles, and obstacles to come. This, this right here is something I can come back to.

My power. It is in the proof of all I’ve chosen to survive. It is in the heart and joy I share with others -and equally the vulnerability. It is in the forgiveness I choose to gift for the sake of myself. It is in the way I’ll find a way out of the maze, even when I’ve got no one to guide me. It is the way I can fill my heart with the way the clouds arc. Powerful. I am so much more powerful then I realize. Which means, you must be too right?

You Can’t rush your healing.

A while back a friend sent me Trevor Halls song you can’t rush your healing and I think I’m only now realizing how apt a suggestion it is for me and my journey. I realize how hard I’ve been pushing myself to do exactly that -heal. Implying I’m broken. My eyes steel focused upon the end result -where I want to be, actually where I think I ought to be.

I spend so much bloody time trying to be what I think everyone else thinks I am, or wants me to be -then sit there in resentment of others that I am not being authentic in that, blaming them?That only hurts me, it isolates me -sure it might theoretically protect me from anyone getting too close, but isn’t that sort of the point of this life? Loving people, sharing life?

There are phenomenal people everywhere, all with their own experiences and stories -each with fears and desires. Am I not denying myself the pleasure of being seen as one of those people too and to be loved by them?

Sometimes I am just so immensely lonely, most often while totally surrounded in friends I know deeply value me -you know what? That is me. That is my blockades. Sometimes it might be a little bit exhaustion of just too many people to love, leaving little for myself or at least little time to invest in the projects I’d like to take off the ground, but that doesn’t mean I have to go the other end and not be apart of it at all either.

I, like us all, have my own fears and insecurities in regards to others, and although I’ve made great strides to adapt, I need to recognize that I can strike fear and insecurity in others with my walls. It’s okay to step off sometimes, it really is, we need to care for ourselves -but I don’t wish to shit on others for not meeting my expectations, just as I hope others grant me the same grace.

I have endless proof that when it all falls apart, as it totally did during the week, that I have an army of support around me and that sometimes it is worth trusting our gut in recognizing the times when our closest might indeed be hurt by our internal war fields.

In that I’ve gotten oh so much better at learning to sit with pain and discomfort again, alone, intentionally and to take space from social spaces when I simply need rest -no matter how much I’d “like” to go out.

So I am capable, I am more then capable, the storms I have weathered throughout my life and survived, I no longer even have to do alone. So unstoppable really right? I know it doesn’t feel it at the time, and if I come back and read this in the midst, I’d likely scrunch my nose up at such a suggestion -but I really have made leaps and bounds.

I guess it feels a little ironic that this journey with myself feels far more arduous then any external adversities I’ve yet faced -but I see it is the piece that is missing, the gap of which within I let myself suffer. Perhaps though it feels so arduous because I am always in a rush to draw the sunshine out, ensure each and every thing and person is safe -an ultimately futile attempt to control the uncertainty of life. I guess that is where it comes full circle to the beginning, I’ve been in a rush to heal, not just myself, but all. I continuously devalue my own strength nor gift myself patience in this incredibly difficult unravelling of a lifetime of embedded beliefs I have built in regards to the situations happening around me –in my desperation to hold everyone else, I simply let go of myself.

Rinsed Reflections.

This weekend was initially set to be wholesome Matariki celebrations around a bonfire in the beautiful Tapawera, and yet it rolled into an overnight hunt for the elusive Batdogg followed by sloooow.

My body aches, in the sort of way that is almost satisfying and I’m a little socialized out. While the house has been full I’ve rolled between little entrances into the den shared and mostly lying about in bed flicking between reading, writing, watching movies, munching and a little tidying -which prompted some of the latest polaroid’s finally making it on to the wall.

In that, the slowness allows a gentle nostalgia and great gratitude for those in my life -some no longer here, some I no longer have contact with, some I’ve not seen in a while and some I see on the regular. Yet I can enjoy each photo for the time shared with love still held.

I catch myself at times feeling like life isn’t fair, or drowning within the physical discomfort I’m so often in -but then again, if I look at the people who love me and have loved me, it assures I’ve always moved my life in the right direction -and held myself accordingly. There is no shortage of love or space shared.

I like who I am. I’m not always able to achieve all I’d hoped to, but I’m becoming more okay with that, because who ever can? Why hold myself in comparison to others ability (which is often only witnessed at the surface) when I am unique in myself -as is my experience with this body.

Speaking of, I’m really starting to explore my body, and what it means to be in it. It is starting up a fresh project which feels all too raw and yet all too important if I pull it off -even just for me, myself and I.

It’s been weird living life with a little more of me in mind, and it is still a daily struggle at times as I find so often my heart cares for others first. I often marker my loved ones happiness above my own, something that once felt noble, but now I see it is just shouldering their hurts -which only comes with overall consequence in the long run.

It’s funny to make space for myself, and fill it -often anxious as to how it’ll be received, but I’ve been braver for worse things and I’m trying to approach it with curiousity as a new adventure. I’ve always enjoyed trying new things, in fact when I garner an understanding of something new, I often find myself thriving within it.

My ability to try and innovate is one I couldn’t be more grateful for, it’s opened many a doors and I know it’ll continue to assist me in this life.

Which is another thing I’m starting to feel like is going to continue, I’m starting to set plans in advance, set goals and ache for a future. I have a vision of building a life, despite the mess it is in -equally I’m intentional about trying to be more present in the moment, because we will simply never know how many we have. Celebrate, live for today while being conscious of tomorrow and the years after that.

This year has been so unlike others, I’ve been doing some frankly uncomfortable work within myself. Facing my own patterns, behaviour and mindset front on. I’ve learnt to set boundaries, been challenged by my own expectations and found connection in some unexpected places. I’ve even found new strength in this heart, it no longer breaks, only aches, while here I am still holding it close within that pain. Because I know this heart has an infinite capacity for love to grow, even if I still trip over the walls I build around it and sometimes still let the wrong people a little too close -funny in some ways I find myself too trusting and in other ways lonely behind the guards. The awareness is good though, I trust we are only ever opening, however slow.

This is just a few little thoughts tumbling around my mind, as I try to gently let the time roll on without creating a hustle to pull anything in particular off. Because sometimes we need to do not much of anything -it’s a good rest from the perpetual strain that builds within my traps day to day.

I hope everyone else has found some little moments of ease within their Sunday shenanigans and I guess that is a sleepy dinosaur signing out, ready for some sauna sits and spa soaks letting the tension melt away.

Mucho love x

I am honoured.

Sometimes we find ourselves in places beyond our wildest expectations. There is an unworldly solidity to the ground with which we stand upon, a space cradled by many before.

I find it is drawing me into a beautiful quiet lull of reflection within my presence.

Because I am so immensely grateful to be allowed into others lives – to be entrusted with their sacred spaces, to celebrate in their successes and sit with them in their lows, to be let in on rituals and passions.

I think much of this year I have been finding myself drawn to the quiet, and within that I’ve found a depth with many relationships I’m not sure I’ve achieved before. In that, I recognize I have been choosing to be more vulnerable, to reach out and ask for help -even what I actually desire in a space.

It has been tough watching how within my own internal transformation, I’ve found things that were once familiar drifting in and out of my space -feeling further away.

Yet, in order to discover, we must often let go. I have held so tightly to all and everything, believing something sacred must be drawn from forever -although within a conversation today I recognize that presence within a moment is far more powerful.

Life has an ebb and flow quality to it -just as I as an individual do, especially as I’ve begun to explore where I can find contentment, no longer dictated by the desires and pressures I’ve dared presume come from others.

I’ve been so confounded by grief I did not know how to express, that I’ve caught myself lost in the past in previous years, just stuck -rather then garnering the tool it is to motivate and move forward.

This year has been intentional, honouring the inner child and all her woes. Sitting with myself and the uncomfortable emotion a little more. Deciphering what brings me joy and really truly feeling into what my gut has to say.

Although the emotional rollercoaster is intense, I’ve found more relief in approaching the darkness within, then I ever have in running from it.

Finally it has also allowed me to see all the ways I have been held and seen over the years, rather then the times I have not.

Because I have been phenomenally shared with, adopted into other families, invited in to share in other cultures, introduced to new passions and been encouraged to be my authentic self.

My heart feels full to know how many thresholds I am allowed to cross, and have been blessed to cross in the past.

I release the resentment and blame for what I did not receive and find gratitude and wonder for what I indeed did.

This life is a privilege, it is a gift to share in ceremony, ritual, friendship, love, intimacy, play, nature, communication and stillness. I feel abundant in opportunity to be apart of something and I begin to practice detachment for the organic flow of how that plays out longer term.

I want to be present now. I am choosing presence. I am choosing gratitude. I am choosing a gentle breath over the hold to control. I am honoured. I am loved. I get to love. This life despite all its challenge, is a gift. I receive it.

almost 7!

I’m currently on voluntary house arrest for a sore throat that I’m praying isn’t another round of strep (no other symptoms) and trying to manage down before this weekend -because I’ve spent a few too many laps around the sun tucked in bed. Maybe something to do with being born in the crux of winter? Not that I’ve done too much to carve out any celebrations or anything of the like, overwhelm often leaves me paralyzed to creation. Although there is potentially an easy trip out to the coast available and I can’t lie that looking for cool rocks, is genuinely a passionate pastime. So let us all hold out that I can hang outside of the 4 walls of my sometimes suffocating room.

You know sometimes we don’t know we desire something, until it is potentially taken away from us -something I’ve learnt on a few occasions this year.
Especially in regards to a weary body or busy mind.
Funny though too, that in some of the points of choosing rest, I’ve found peace unlike before.

I always tend to think that the growing is done, that I am now the am I’ll be. Except I’ve been every sort of character, tried out every sort of look, had every sort of friend and thrown myself into almost every industry I could.

I discard myself often, forgetting all I’ve already achieved, breathed and felt.

I throw myself in for the pleasure of others, the assistance, the validation.

This year has been a journey of picking me and my future first -which is even a funny concept to write. I didn’t except to hold out to 27. Here I am, finally facing time of my own -it’s often uncomfortable, because I’m still not really sure what I want ahead. Yet I have found a few things, I have found a few truths within my values and intentions.

• I show up fucking hard for the right people, my ‘too much’ love is only proof of the space I hold in my heart for them. I’m hard to get rid of, but I also can respect space if it is needed.
  Equally I am forgiving for the right people, if someone is kind to me, it doesn’t matter where you came from, I will make time for you and I will hold my ground against others opinions. Alas I no longer try to foster all, that is the real too much.

• I can use my voice, there is power when I choose to speak, especially in regards to boundaries and vulnerabilities. It gives others the space to share their truths too.
  Because I am a good communicator, direct, I always try to understand both sides and clarify the desires and discomforts. -Saves time, which I treasure in a roundabout way.

• Prioritizing is good, I thrive within the slow, intentional and refined. I’ve chosen a select few whose opinions will hold weight and who I’ll intentionally make time for. I’ve found respite in a space an hour out of town with a view of the mountains and the permission to do nothing -no wifi too! I don’t talk if I don’t want to and I can communicate when I don’t have the capacity to listen authentically. I’ve channeled more time into me again, morning rituals, workouts, intentional eating and simply time to lie about and daydream.

• I must marry my body and all its flaws, not defeat it. 26 has been many visits to the ER and the GP. It has been up and downs periods of skipping meals, or spending too long looking in the mirror. It’s been missing out on a few key events and punishing it to survive others. I simply cannot do everything I once could and indeed desire to, but practice gratitude for what you can do, and compassion for what you cannot.

I can’t tell you it’s been a year of quite so much excitement, but I’ve discovered euphoria chasing isn’t really conducive to my health and wellbeing anywho -and I have always been akin to a new adventure.

Although in saying that, I really have experienced a new form of joy, it’s a gentler kind. It’s one that seeks solid companionship, rather then burning sparks. It’s relationships that are built from ease, where I slowly learn to navigate the fears I have for fire in order to be able to befriend the chaos too.

You know the universe has a funny way of checking us if we don’t do so ourselves, within half an hour of tapping at a keyboard, the squeeze of my throat lessens and I settle into my own reflections -knowing fully I am enough, and still more then.

For those of you close and around, although the clock almost hits 27, I begin to hold my inner child and I request only the silliest play (and steady holds) to accompany me through the transition, my 7th ^ if you will. Back at square one with the wisdom I’d have ached to have living through my actual childhood.

So here I am, happy to let go of 26, and embrace another year of scars upon my shoulders, toughening me up into the beautiful tapestry of a life well and truly lived.

Thank you 26.

to be a creative, is to be brave.

murals tear me apart. like truly. rarely do I get through without a few times flat tack on the floor, almost in tears trying to wear my heart on my sleeve in the form of paint strewn against a wall.

there is such an immense vulnerability to share our own thoughts in this world, and nothing makes it go public like the full frontal nude a mural basically is.

i say in the midst of doing that exact thing at the moment, ironic when only mere days ago I could plaster a no nips and bits, but basically naked shot of my own body and self upon my facebook wall without a doubt.

murals are something else.

creating is something else.

i am brave, just as each and every person who dares to create, which is basically all of us if you really think about.

creativity isn’t bound to the confines of pencils and pens, brushes and graphics.

it is in how we carry ourselves, share our truth, make our food, share in love and dance the night away.

but to share words, to sing, to make a picture out of nothing, or even to capture something that is already there freezing such a moment forever -that is to be naked.

it is to let others bear witness to your soul.

i do it many many times a year, and this piece has felt no more covered.

my ego dare rise, just as it does with everybody else.

we are all grapple at walling of hearts and deflecting love with laughter, there is nothing quite like saying, hey i’m right here, so see me.

i recognized today the true courage i embody everytime i share outward, and how terrified i am of it -but equally seemingly just can’t help but be unable to exist without.

it both suffocates and then allows for the deepest of breaths.

i am truly grateful that even in the midst of the pain, i can begin to find the gratitude for such a cathartic release, to actually make room for myself in this world -leaving a mark that shall not fade in its ferocity, even if perhaps one day it shall fade in colour.

i encourage all to try, to share, to be creative, just as i acknowledge my fear and likely yours in doing so.

i see you, i see us, humans (some dinosaurs), all intertwined in this one very strange, absurd, delightful and sometimes so painful life we live.

so take my hand and let us figure this shit out together, with the knowledge we are not alone if we are brave together to bear witness to each other and for gods sake, lets normalize this bloody nudity.