Finding Stillness
When All Else Fails, I breathe.
I am the earth beneath my feet. I am earthI am the ocean. I am waterI am the energy of creation. I am fireI am the air I breathe. I am airI am the quintessence of existence. I am SpiritI am the wind beneath my wings. I am freedomI am a divine child. I am love
When I sat down to write today, I wasn’t sure where to begin.
— with the chaos, or the calm?
Do I speak of grief — or of the quiet hope that something new is stirring?
This isn’t a fairytale, or a magic show.
This space is for the whole story:
The love, the joy, the loss, the healing, and everything in-between.
It’s about sharing the real stuff — so we can grow, grieve, remember, transform and thrive.
Sometimes I write with urgency — always with purpose and dedication.
It’s an urgency that is quietly compelling.
She whispers softly on the breeze.
She grabs my hand and asks me to join her.
She is my guide.
I write because I must.
I write for me, but also for you.
Words, even messy ones, help me make sense of things.
I write because I’m led to, by a force outside of me — a force that knows what I need to heal and transform.
Writing
Writing is the voice I kept secretly locked away for so long;
It’s personal.
It’s private.
Its sensual.
It’s defiant, and bold.
It’s authentic — Lazy — Longing — Dreaming.
It’s honest — it’s unpretentious.
It’s an expression of so many things in me.
It’s not the whole of who I am, but it’s how I return to myself — It’s my lifeline. It’s how I stay connected.
''Writing is not my reason for living, but it keeps me connected — to myself, to you, to something greater.’'
I write from the places in me that have been called many things.
— woman, lover, mother, wife, maker, child, dreamer, artist, alchemist.
I am all of them — and I am none.
I am a soul in a body.
I am light and shadow, love and ache, fire and stillness.
I am Joy.
I am here.
''I’ve come to understand that our thoughts, words and actions ripple out farther than we could ever truly know.''
Writing is healing.
It’s an expression of my truth.
It captures my ideas, thoughts and feelings — expressing them through sight and sound.
Yet it is much more.
It’s how I have reclaimed my voice after loss and trauma.
It’s how I am reinventing myself.
It’s a tool for transformation — a mechanism for change.
''When my world spins and I feel scattered, writing gives me something to hold onto — It’s the tether, the steady anchor.''
As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel told his daughter Susannah,
''Words create worlds.''
Heschel believed in the sacred power of language — not just as a way to communicate, but as a force of creation.
Words can bring holiness or harm into the world. They shape what we see, what we feel, what we believe is possible.
I believe we are all Magicians.
We create with our thoughts, our words, our actions.
And with that creation comes responsibility. A responsibility to choose our words carefully — to speak with reverence — to create with care.
I am blessed to be surrounded by mountains, oceans and trees.
Nature is my garden. It’s yours too — you can access it anytime.
But still life happens. It’s not without challenges.
When life is chaotic — and it often is — nature helps to ground me.
In the past 15 months, I’ve lived through some tough things:
Abandonment.
Grief.
Homelessness.
The loss of dignity.
And countless other losses that don’t always have names — yet, I’m still here.
I’m still standing.
I didn’t just survive. I’m surviving.
''I’m a living testament to the surviving spirit.''
Writing has been my lifeline — my anchor — my medicine.
I am speaking life into existence.
I am creating my world with words.
Spirit
I was stripped bare — bare to the bones.
It was brutal — but that stripping didn’t destroy me.
— it peeled back the layers, to reveal an exquisite essence that was always there —something special, unique, beautiful, rare.
That’s the thing — the lesson.
Nobody can take away your essence, your spirit, your light.
Against all odds I am shining brighter than ever before.
I am rising — transforming, through the pain, the darkness, the isolation.
Nature
Nature has held me.
She heals me.
I am grateful for each day — the ocean at my feet, the mountains around me, and nature on my doorstep.
Breath-work
When everything else feels like it’s falling away, I breathe.
Breath is life.
It grounds, calms and softens the tightness in my body.
Breathing with intention, brings me into my body.
Stillness
Quiet stillness calms my nervous system and helps me manage my anxiety.
Observing, listening, feeling.
Simple, sacred time alone — It’s precious.
— It’s needed.
Alchemy
''Nature, breath-work, stillness, writing are the four grounding elements that have guided me through the crucible of my own transformation. They are my peace, my healing, my source of strength.''
Earth anchors me, grounding me in the chaos. It represents the solid foundation from which I am rebuilding a home.
Water cleanses me, washing away grief and pain, flowing through me like the fluid motion of change. It is the purification process in alchemy — dissolving old patterns to make way for the new.
Fire ignites the transformation, burning away what no longer serves me, catalysing change, and illuminating the path forward. It is the refining heat, where the raw material is transformed into something greater.
Air carries my thoughts, my breath, and my voice, lifting me into clarity and insight. It represents the spiritual elevation, the final step in the alchemical process where the soul is purified and awakened.
The elements work together to alchemise transformation.
Transformation is often not gentle. It’s forced into being through unimaginable pressure and violent forces. And even then, it’s buried, hidden in the dark — until something erupts and brings it to light.
Think of a diamond and how it comes into being:
Immense heat, intense pressure, darkness and time produces the diamond. It takes a violent, fiery eruption to bring the diamond to the light.
''Writing, nature, breath, and stillness have been the catalyst for my healing. As I alchemise the pain, I’m transforming, finding my voice and stepping into the woman I am.''
Alchemy isn’t a quick process. It’s a slow burn.
It’s deliberate, sometimes uncomfortable — but every part of it has its place.
The struggles, the pain, the moments of questioning — they’re not distractions from the transformation, they’re the crucible itself; they shape, refine, and teach me to trust the process and honor what is.
The journey (the alchemy) is as important as the destination:
— It’s as much about the person I’m becoming in this fire, as what I’ll be when I emerge.
The heat, the darkness, the solitude, the pressure yield the diamonds within.
''When all else fails:
I get on the floor
I empty my mind of the clutter — or at least I try to empty it.
I breathe stillness into myself.
I give thanks for all that is and all that is yet to come.''