Reflections

I wanted it to unfold neatly. The timing to line up. The path to open.

It didn’t.

At first I called it bad luck. Then I noticed the pattern.
Every time I try to grip harder, life slips through my fingers.

Maybe the point isn’t to force what’s closed, but to stay open to what’s next.

The universe is still conspiring.

We just don’t always know where it’s taking us.

Three hot days on the road and I couldn’t work out why I felt so off. My lips cracked, my throat ached, my skin felt coated in dust.

Then something clicked. Maybe it’s the aircon. Maybe my car has a filter that needs changing.

Turns out it never had a filter. The air I’d been breathing was recycled dust.

40 minutes, one YouTube video, and a $25 filter later, the difference was instant. The air felt fresh again.

It made me realise how many little things sit just below our awareness. Each one quietly stealing comfort, focus, or peace.

You don’t have to overhaul your life. Just keep spotting the small fixes that make it better to live in.

A smile at the café. A chat with the postie. A wave to a neighbour.
Tiny moments, gone in seconds, yet they add up.

We talk a lot about eating well and moving more. But it turns out random human connection is one of the strongest predictors of a long life.

Not only the grand friendships, but also the light-touch ones.
The barista who remembers your order. The stranger you share a laugh with at the lights. Each one tells the body: you belong here.

So maybe longevity isn’t just kale and cardio.
Maybe it’s conversation.

I was up early. The supermarket lights still waking.
Outside, the sky was alive with colour. Hot air balloons drifting, sunlight spilling across quiet streets.

Everything moved slow. The air felt light.

Soon I’ll merge into peak hour, where everyone’s chasing somewhere to be.

But for a moment, I saw what the day could feel like before the rush decided for it.

Like magic still had space to breathe.

I used to think ravens were against me.
They always showed up when something felt off. I took it as a curse.

But today they guided me away from traffic, calling out turns I shouldn’t take.
Their presence wasn’t punishment. It was protection.

Maybe they were never the bad omen.
Maybe I just didn’t want to hear their bad news.

For a long time I thought I’d missed my moment.
Like the world had moved on and I was still catching up.

I could build things but never felt like a true developer. My ideas were bigger than my skills, and I’d lose steam halfway through the build.

But something’s shifted. The tools caught up to the imagination.
Now, ideas move as fast as I think them.

I still don’t know exactly what I’ll make of it.
But for the first time, I feel like I was made for this.

On a long drive today, old ideas bubbled up.
Problems I’d shelved, questions I’d stopped asking.

Without trying, answers formed. Connections appeared.

It’s funny how the mind works when you stop pushing.
Brute force rarely builds clarity.

Sometimes you just need to give your subconscious room to run.

For two days I’ve felt off. Heavy. Like a low hum I can’t switch off.

It’s not from anyone else. It’s the echo of choices I thought I’d outgrown.

Old patterns have a way of testing you. They call to see if you’ll answer.

Maybe the point isn’t to carry the feeling but to remember why it showed up.

A reminder of what you’ve left behind and what to steer clear of next time.