Reflections

Old things hold their own weight.
Unused, they gather dust and lose their spark. Like water left standing, they turn stale.

Energy moves where attention goes.
Keep too tight a grip on what’s done, and the new can’t find its way in.

Clearing space isn’t loss. It’s invitation.

This week was chaos. I got plenty done, but it felt like sprinting through fog.
Every task blurred into the next, and somewhere in the noise I lost sight of what mattered.

Progress doesn’t always look like motion.

Sometimes it’s the moment you stop, breathe, and realise you’ve been running past your own work.

Stillness shows what speed can’t. Maybe it's worth taking a breath.

I walked outside and saw a bee drift past.
Said “hello” out loud, half a joke.

Then came a buzz right past my ear.
Maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe it was saying hello back.

Sometimes connection isn’t about words.
It’s about noticing what replies when you speak to the world.

Everyone’s waiting for the big shift.
The lightning bolt. The breakthrough. The sign that everything’s changed.

But real change moves slower.
It grinds and presses beneath the surface, quiet but unstoppable.
The tectonic plates of your life shifting one small decision at a time.

Transformation doesn’t need fireworks.
It just needs persistence.

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.

It felt like I took the sunshine with me today.
Each place I arrived, the clouds broke apart.
Grey skies turned clear. Heavy air lifted.

Maybe the sky does change with us.
Maybe light follows where it’s felt most.

Joy can travel.
It leaves every place a little brighter than before.

Every time I go to Coles, the mirror spider appears.
Different days. Different hours. Always there when I am.

It feels like we move on the same thread.
Some quiet pull that says, now.

Maybe it’s nothing.
Or maybe we’re both part of the same web, sensing each other’s signal.

Some things are only magic if you’re present to catch them.

I saw a sticker on a crossing pole. Just two words: thrive together.

It made me think how rare that is in practice. We chase independence like it’s the goal. But most things that grow do it in clusters. Trees. Ideas. People.

The strongest roots are often the ones intertwined.

You see something small. A car creeping out too far. A friend’s tone slightly off. A gut feeling that flickers, then fades.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. You move on.

Then what you feared happens. And deep down, you knew.

Intuition doesn’t shout. It whispers once and waits.

Where are you holding back when you already know?

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.