the unknown

(If you are seeking a sign to book that plane ticket, or make that risky decision, this my friend is it)


I believe we all desire newness, a taste of the unknown. That takes shape differently for everyone, but the principle remains the same; the allure of difference and a diversion from repetition keeps us feeling alive.

The entrapment of regime and the banal dulls the lustre of desire. Our wildness is trimmed and tamed, coerced into the confines of societal moulds. It is easier to submit than resist. But the fullness and exuberance of our lives is the expense we pay at the behest of regret.

So how do we dive into the unknown? How do we continue to strive and seek it despite the alluring and comfortably worn dip in our lounge that hugs our body as we curl up in the same spot, day in, day out? We must pry ourselves from this position, unstick our atrophied limbs and hurl ourselves outward. Out to the periphery of our experience. Caress the familiar texture of those walls, with all their thinly veiled safety and protection, and then choose. Choose to trust ourselves enough to dip our arms in.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, there is an element of risk in everything we do. We live with differing levels of accepted risk at all times. Is the risk worth the reward? We calculate most of these equations instantaneously. The risk of spending $5 on a morning coffee effecting my savings is oft overcome by my cravings, or want to take in a quiet moment of pleasure. A moment of pleasure might mean a step toward stress, sickness, or a divergence from what we truly want in our future (like a healthy bank account), so our future selves are deemed a worthy sacrifice. How many times do you regret the decisions you make? Can you ever avoid that? But, you know what you want – don’t you? So if you’re bound to regret some decisions, and you cannot avoid making them in the first place – why not take the risk? You’re bound to fuck up and some point anyway. May as well make it one wild adventure in the meantime.

I beg you then: DELVE INTO THE ABYSS!

…Witness that veil evaporate. Let fear shroud your vision not – the end of those walls signify the beginning. The immaculate conception of warped dreamscapes and surrealist splendour. Here is the birthplace where those seemingly ornate, elaborate, childish and unfeasible dreams of your life take tangible form. Seize your reality with zestful lust for life and curate the most ridiculous life you can concoct into reality. Get fucking weird. Breathe it all down deep into your lungs, let it fill you with life.

~ Welcome to the unknown ~

Here, the mirage of your limited experiences and the ruse of apparent contentedness dissipates. The only person to guide you is yourself. But this exploration never really ends. Possibilities of life tower and morph in unending revelry. Concepts fade in and out. Renewal is the only constant.

In this playground of imagination, we discover ourselves and our ability to flex and expand into a new self. One that seizes the cup of the unknown and drinks it willingly, trusted to harness whatever capacity is needed as a result.

I don’t believe your exploratory self ever dies. Although, maybe it becomes quietened by years of wilful ignorance. So it seems you have two choices; to strangle that voice until it recedes into fear based quiet, or to amplify it so that it proudly resounds through all the choices you consciously make.

the saplings of forgiveness

I restlessly throw my body around in bed while candles flicker and frogs croak. Camomile and honey trickle down my throat. Lavender floats around me in a cloud. It feels like even the frogs have more conviction than I do. I can barely muster a squeak. 

There is an aching in my soul that I’m unsure of how to soothe. A hurt that this time, I do not know how to mend. I’m good at this, I think. I can step back and assess myself, criticize the reason for my emotions and analyse my motives. Stab and slice away at my ego, threatening it to stir and face me. 

Most of the time, I can strategize a way out. A way up. Not this time. I’m snowed under with a weight it feels I cannot bear. In this place, it feels like there are no hands to help me. I’m not sure I’ll reach for any either. 

I remind myself; my needs are met. In fact, they are beyond met in many ways. Mostly, I have the freedom to do what I want, when I want. A true luxury that I try not to undervalue. How dare I feel anxious or depressed?!

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is something that I often draw back to. It resonates with me that a human has a myriad of elements to keep in fine balance before one can feel self-fulfilling (which ironically coalesces, or more accurately, actually depends on the intimate support network around the individual). 

Tonight the acknowledgement of these base needs being met are not serving to comfort me. 

  • Insert reality check: they are NOT a given and should be ALWAYS appreciated as a comfort – perspective is key.
  • Insert secondary reality check: the vicious ‘how dare you’ mindset is reinforced – stay wary of negative self-talk masquerading as the helpful critic.

I am deeply grateful to have loved and been loved by some special souls in my life. In the occasional absence of this loving presence, I am sometimes unexpectedly cast into a chasm of emotion with myself playing damsel and hero simultaneously. Usually I’m not shy of this confrontation of self, but this seemingly unending emotional fragility has me trading faces.

I fumble around with this uncomfortability, trying to understand it in any way I can. Feel it wash through my body and take root in the centre of my torso. Find consciousness in my breath and attempt to loosen the knots in my chest. 

Thus far, uncomfortability has been my most brutal, but honest teacher. Oh, and maybe heartbreak. At this point I’d label them interchangeably. I’m not sure I’ll ever revel in uncomfortability but my appreciation for what is unveiled in its wake is constantly multiplying.

In the midst of this inner turmoil, a gentle voice enters and begs for both time and space for forgiveness. The harsh critic is silenced. I’ve visited this place before. In it is a garden. A sacred garden with a plethora of possibilities. Here, the seeds are most difficult to sow. Upon discovery, the landscape is barren and the soil unrelenting. Weeds entrenched and overgrown. Colours mute. With diligence and mindful care, slowly the soil softens. Richness re-enters to allow small, hopeful sprouts. With further tending, these saplings will flower, but their flowers are stubborn and slow to bloom. They demand boundless amounts of conscientious tenderness. However, once given their fill and in full spectrum light; this garden and its flowers provide the deepest healing.

Tend relentlessly to your garden.

Dear soul

Dear soul, I hear you in there whispering gentle truths. Directing my eyes on an upward trajectory.

Dear soul, my heart quakes with the vibrations of your deafening bellows; demanding to stay aligned with my journey.

Yet sometimes, I do not listen. I avert my gaze. I wander. I get lost. I betray myself. Sometimes it’s a conscious choice, sometimes it’s not.

Then I find my way back.

Do you ever blink with wonder at how you got to where to you are? The air around you stills and sound leaks from your ears. Maybe you aren’t who you wanted to be. Maybe you’re more that you ever thought you could be. If you aren’t where you know you should be, on that upwards trajectory, you’ve hushed that voice for much too long. The sound of the soul inside you that tugs at the bottom of your shirt like a kid begging to be pushed on the swing or bought chocolate at the check out of the grocery store. You swat it away with annoyance, even contempt.

We justify our aversions with half-hearted conviction. A squirming of uncertainty alerts us that we aren’t living in accordance with our highest truth. But, we won’t fail if we never try. Onwards our feet feebly lead us. We drown in earthly expectations. Succumb to dramatic social demise. Feeding our ego its tantalising sustenance, soon our soul grows weary of its constant dismissal. Faith in yourself dwindles and so too does your once clear vision for life. For your journey. Your spirit.

Often, we live according to the narrative that we (and society) have etched for our lives – one we torturingly expect ourselves to not only live up to – but exceed. Is it in accordance with our truest self? You better hope that it is. After all, you’re the one that spent all this time getting yourself here.

strive to consciously create

We take ourselves by the hand then swing ourselves over cliffs of self-construed personal destruction. There’s that voice again. The tugging on your shirt. We stray from our path. Then we blame and curse; those around us, our upbringing, the world. While we perish at the hands of our own self-sabotage, we deflect responsibility. To admit fault would be to threaten our beliefs. Beliefs that over time, have morphed into deeply set values. Values that convincingly masquerade as our identity. Maybe some are. Or maybe you’ve just told yourself that. Where did they come from anyway? These values are often bolstered by ignorance, threatened by change and the challenge of growth. Ideologies are hard to kill, but when they do die, they die hard. Let us not forget how malleable our identity is to the world around us.

let go

To undermine ones value system would surely test the fibres of ones soul. Just how far have you wandered?

Visualise the greatest version of yourself. Start making conscious choices that are in alignment with that version of you. Be more afraid of fear holding you back from experiencing life than the fear itself. Confront hard truths. Be a sensation seeker.


Dear soul, I promise to listen. To live aligned to my truths. To speak words of honesty, with love. To love from the depths of my being, without limitation or expectation. To leave the world a little (or a lot) better than I found it.

Who are you, if you’re not living in consistency with what your soul is saying?