Reflections

A magpie and a rosella sharing an apple.
Two birds you’d never expect side by side.

One all sound and shadow.
The other colour and light.
Different notes, same song.

Maybe harmony isn’t about sameness.
It’s about knowing there’s space for contrast too.

A car pulled out in front of me.
Reflexes took over. A quick swerve. Tyres caught. Silence.

For a moment I waited for the crash that never came.
Then I breathed.

Usually, my mind would loop the what-ifs.
Replay the fear. Build a story that never happened.

But this time felt different.
For once, I didn’t hold on to the fear.
Just the relief.

It’s easy to obsess over what could’ve gone wrong.
Harder to stay grateful for what didn’t.

Some mornings, the bed feels heavier than it is. Not because you need more rest, but because starting feels harder than staying still.

Rest repairs you. But sometimes rest turns into hiding.

The trick is remembering that momentum comes after movement.

Energy follows action.

You don’t need to feel ready to begin.

You just need to get up.

I swipe my finger at the boom gate and it lifts. Just a camera scanning plates, but it feels like wizardry.

The wave of a finger is enough to turn ordinary into magic.

Sometimes it stalls. Maybe I fumbled the spell.

What else could we choose to see that way?

The phone in your pocket, the water flowing at a tap, the voice message that travels across oceans in seconds.

Everyday wizardry is everywhere. It’s only invisible because we stop looking.