Thirty Nine Turns

Here we are. Thirty-nine years old. Growing older is such a privilege. 

Am I any less romantic? No

Am I any less hopeful? No

Am I any less playful? No

Am I any less excited about life? No

Have I been tested? Yes

Have I taken some wrong turns? Yes

Have I had to make some tough decisions? Yes

Do I still use humour as an emotional crutch? Absolutely 

Do I still listen to "I'll be seeing you"  and "moon river" at least once a day? Yes

Am I hardened? I hope not

Do I still have an "old soul"? Yes

Do I still have a "young heart"? Yes

Do I feel older? No

Do I feel wiser? A bit

Am I still open to feeling life to its entirety? Yes

Do I still walk through life like it's a movie? Yes

Am I still a manic-dream-pixie-girl? Somehow, yes

Do I still have faith in people? Yes

Do I still lead with kindness? Always

Do I still paint? Yes

Do I still write? Clearly

Do I still make music? Yes

Do I still want to continue to touch every nook and cranny of the world? Yes

Do I still prefer animals over humans? A lot of the time.. 

Do I understand my own mortality? Yes

Will that stop me? No

Am I still The Bluebird? Forever. 

 

Mortality, Humility, Laughter and Longevity

 

Mortality, Humility, Laughter and Longevity

This is reflective, it may make you think, it might make you laugh, it will definitely give you hope

This entry is dedicated to my dear family friend Paul Fitzgerald, who we lost 4 years ago this month, too young.

At some point during our lives, we are confronted with the reality of mortality.

When we are young, this confrontation can come in the form of the loss of a family member, friend, or pet - and we learn the lessons about finality, grief and mourning. 

Ordinarily, what doesn't seem "fair" is when a relatively young person is faced with their own mortality.

But, it happens: in children's cancer wards, war zones, poverty stricken communities, accidents, crime and the result of depression and bullying from a young age. 

The world is cruel and unbiased. We dip our toes into the universe to find relief from the weight of it - and we are never quite prepared to be directly impacted by the harsh realities of life.

13 years ago, I was a firecracker of a 25 year old, invincible, limitless. Living in a bustling city and swinging from one country to another like a pendulum. Collecting memories, moments, feelings and culture;  not performative but alive, truly alive. (And already writing this blog).

One snowy mid-January morning in London, everything changed. I woke up in a pool of sweat in my bed. Dizzy. My right leg was purple, swollen, hot and I couldn't move it. 

I lived alone in a tiny, but perfect, dolls-house flat on Camden square. I had two orange canaries. It was -3 degrees outside, I loaded my canaries up with food, left the heating on and called a mini cab. I was wearing an oversized turtle neck jumper as a dress with a pair of riding boots. I couldn't walk on my right leg, I could hardly stand up. I had a handbag with my wallet,  phone,  iPod,  phone charger, hair brush, a notepad, pen and lip balm in it. The mini cab picked me up, I collapsed into the back seat. I don't remember much other than the drivers concern. He didn't charge me for the ride to Princess Grace Hospital in Marylebone. He pulled me out of the car and held me up shoulder to shoulder into admissions, my only recollection was "Hold on love, it's going to be OK,"

The night before, I was out to dinner with my close friend Tasha, at a French place on Walton Street. We used to take each other out on romantic dates because "nobody else was doing it." It was a normal night, we ate, laughed, went to Boujis in Chelsea for a quick dance and called it a night. Everything was normal. 4 hours later, it wasn't.

I was admitted into ICU and isolation immediately. I remember trying to keep track of everything the specialist on duty was saying, "Septic shock, immediate treatment, drainage, amputation." The words were a blur. At that moment I realised I needed to contact my family and my friends. My first thought was genuinely that someone needed to look after my birds. 

I texted my brother first, I asked him not to tell my mum because I didn't want to worry her. He immediately asked to see a picture of my leg, to which his response was "Fuck. Nadi. I have to tell mum."

I had already contacted my dad before I left my flat, largely because his knowledge of hospitals in London was expert level (a mixture of having a lot of health issues and being a self obsessed hypochondriac). As anticipated, he didn't really care but he did give a good Sunday hospital recommendation (private insurance). I figured I would let my brother fill him in if he asked. 

I then texted a group chat of my closest friends, just telling them "I might be off the radar for a little while as I am in hospital with I'm not sure what." I was a bridesmaid at one of my friends weddings that was 6 weeks later, the messages came streaming back, largely asking if I was still going to be able to fly out for the wedding,  but I did not have the energy or ability to respond.

I texted Tasha to tell her. She immediately tried to call me. I didn't answer.

Lastly, I texted the man I had been "seeing" for about 6 months. Not because I felt as though it was my duty to do so but because we were supposed to have a date on Monday.  The ex city boy investment banker derivatives trader turned cage fighter/book worm/James Bond lookalike 9 years my senior. "Hey, I'm in hospital with Septicaemia so I don't think I'll be able to make our date tomorrow, just wanted to tell you in case you try to reach me and I'm unreachable." 

He texted back immediately saying "What hospital? When can I come see you?" To which I responded "Princess Grace, but I'm not great company right now." he shot back immediately "That doesn't matter, when can I visit you?". The exchange felt strangely surreal given we hadn't done much more than be in and out of each others lives and bedrooms for months.

It was at that moment that I noticed the semi circle of doctors and nurses around me. I was plugged into  IV antibiotics through both wrists. I was starting to feel a pain that I can only describe as my body  struggling to function and shutting down. The phone next to my hospital bed was ringing incessantly (my mum), the voices around me became faint murmurs. I let my head fall to the left and looked out the window as perfect snow flakes descended silently from the sky onto the cobblestone of Marylebone. I felt a stinging, shattering pain in my back as a nurse injected me with a needle deep into my spine. I blacked out.

When I came to, I was dripping in sweat. I was confused and my leg was pulsing. I felt worse, not better. My wrists were sore from the continuous cocktail of anti biotics, a nurse sat by my bed monitoring my heart rate and my doctor held my hand. "Nadia, you're very strong, very brave. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst, how bad is the pain?' I responded.. "6?" He looked at me again "Nadia, please be honest, how bad is the pain?" admitting defeat "10, it's bad." He nodded, stepped back and sat on the chair, "I've been keeping your mum updated, I think you should have your family here, is there anyone in the UK who can be with you?" I responded, breathlessly "I don't want my mum to feel like she has to see me like this, I don't want anyone to see me like this. Yes I have family in Wales and up north, but I really don't want them to know. " He held my hand again "It's ok to want support, Nadia, the antibiotics aren't working, you have been here for 4 days, in and out of consciousness. We are going to try a few more things - but your body is in septic shock, and the only thing we can do to if these last treatments don't work would be to amputate your leg, do you understand what I'm telling you?" 

There was a knock at the door. My doctor got up and went outside, when he came back in he told me "There's a gentleman here to see you, he says he's your friend?" I had just been pumped with some morphine, "OK."

P came in, my doctor left. He sat to the side of me and asked me how I was, I responded "Amazing, obviously really sexy." It was at that moment he said "I was messaging you to ask if you wanted me to bring you anything, you didn't respond." To which I said "You did? P, I don't know if you've noticed but I don't even know what day it is." 

The nurse overheard the entire exchange. When he walked in the heart rate monitor was on, and my heart beat sped up for the first time in days as he entered, the nurse commented on it, thinking it was cute - not realising the "type" of relationship that we had. He relished in it and said "I have that effect on her". The drugs and overall hallucinogenic behaviour began to kick in and I asked him if he wanted to see my leg. First he said yes, then no, then definitely no. The nurse told me it was time to roll over for my back needle again, she asked P if he wanted to stay in the room. He said it was fine, I was none the wiser. As the injection entered my back again, I held my breath with pain and gripped onto my pillow. It was a slow process. P moved closer and said 'You don't need to be so brave, it's OK." I responded with "Do you remember the movie Gremlins? Do you want to hear my Gizmo impression?" and I went onto make the alien and strange noises of the 1980's cult classic character with great enthusiasm. 

On my bedside table was a "running" magazine, a box of cherries, 3 packets of underwear, a toothbrush and toothpaste, face wipes and moisturiser. It was then that I recollected that Tasha had visited me the day before. There was also an entire bottle of white wine on my hospital statement. I don't remember much about Tasha's visit. She had picked up my keys to check on the birds, she had brought me essentials, I had apparently, at some point asked her to bring me something to read. There is a very distinct irony in that she bought me a magazine about running when the future of my leg was hanging in the balance (In her defence, I had been training for the London Marathon). I do, vaguely remember her sitting on the left side of my bed, talking about the guy she was seeing, drinking wine, eating cherries. 

P picked up the magazine. Raised his eyebrow "really?", I responded "I asked Tasha to bring me something to read." He said "I asked you if you wanted anything?!" begrudgingly, "OK, fine, bring me a book." He asked me where the nearest bookstore was, dry-reaching through the pain "Daunts, Marylebone High Street". He came back an hour later, " I brought you my favourite book, Quick Silver by Neil Stephenson and Cloud Atlas - which I haven't read yet, but there's a movie coming out - tell me what you think." His expectations of my cognitive abilities were very high given that I was effectively dying. 

Anyway P went to Brazil for Carnival a month later, had a bit too much fun and sent a stream of self-incriminating drunk text messages talking to himself - while I was hiking the Pennines with my uncle. That's enough of him, he was not a grand romance,  and this story is not about him. Spoiler alert: I survived. He once told me he was "feeling lost" - so I went ahead and sent him a compass in the mail engraved with "to help you find your way" on the back. My romanticism seems to know absolutely no limits.  It should have sent a yo-yo. 

A few more days in, a final last resort cocktail of industrial strength antibiotics were administered manually. The IV drip was no longer working due to the damage to my veins over the last week or so. Nobody tells you how painful slowly injecting a large syringe of thick undiluted fluid directly into your veins is going to feel until it's happening. It was just me and the nurse, every few hours in the darkness. She stroked my arm whilst she was injecting - dabbing the hot and cold sweat from my forehead through the whole night. Hallucinating, quietly crying, shivering. 

During that blurry, feverish couple of weeks I had to face something I had never thought about before. The end of my life. And, for whatever reason, I chose to do it alone. I think about how cats and other animals retreat away from their families or owners when they know they're going to die...and I do wonder if that was a subconscious decision on my part. When I was able, I thought about everything I had done and the way I chose to live my life up until that point, alive, unconventional, activated, excited, romantic. I felt no regret. What I did feel mournful of was not always truly expressing what I was feeling. I then thought about the prospect of surviving but without my leg. How different my trajectory would be, how limited I would become, how many of my greatest passions in life involved being able bodied. The dark irony of being a dancer and a runner, a hiker. What would it mean for me, how would I adapt? And I told myself "Nadia, if you have the privilege of living through this, both legs intact or not - you will not stop, you will not become a statistic, a stereotype or cynic shaped by predictability. You will keep finding things, people, places that make you excited for tomorrow. Moments to keep you inspired and allow you to truly live fully with wonder. You will not conform to the humdrum of any social expectations or norms as you get older - because getting older is a privilege which allows you time to continue to keep experiencing life in a way that is truly magical." 

The next day, I woke up to crisp blue winter sky on the other side of my hospital room window. An unusual sight during the deep of winter in London. I also woke up significantly clearer, I even felt like I had enough energy to read one of the books on my bedside table. It was then that a female surgeon walked into the room and told me I was going into surgery. Startled, I jumped up, alert, terrified, "I'm losing my leg, am I losing my leg?!". She put her hand on my shoulder "No, no, it's ok Nadia. the new mixture of treatment has started to work. We're going to operate on your leg to remove all of the fluid from the septic infection. You're going to be ok soon, don't worry. You have been so brave." (everyone kept saying that)

I came to from surgery later that day surrounded by flowers from my friends in London and all over the world. News had gotten around, not by me, so I'm not entirely sure how it happened. The room felt colourful, bright, welcoming. I felt light, and I should have - they had removed 3 litres' worth of septic fluid from my leg. I reached down to touch my thigh, for the first time in weeks, it wasn't hot to touch, it didn't feel swollen, it didn't hurt. I then reached over to feel a huge bandaged area between my pelvic crease and leg. 

My doctor came in. "That will be your battle wound so you remember what you made it through. That's going to stay open for a month, you'll need to have the dressing changed every two days at a minimum." Both relieved and concerned I said, "wait, there's an open hole on my leg?" Then before I could say anymore, I thought, who cares - I'm alive, I have my leg, I'm here. I made a promise to myself.

"Thank you Dr Crosby." 

I didn't leave the hospital two days later angry, I left feeling grateful. A week later, I got dumped while I was hiking a mountain range, a week after that, I hopped on a plane to my friend's destination wedding. I danced, I laughed, I celebrated (both incidents with an open wound on my leg). 

I spent the following 6 months completely in love with life. 

Then the migraines started. I was diagnosed with a brain tumour (non cancerous) in October that same year. I didn't spiral. I got on a boat to an island and listened to live music dancing under the stars.

I adapted to an anti-inflammatory, holistic lifestyle and I learned to listen to my body and to make decisions based on what made me feel physically well. I realised I didn't need alcohol to have fun, I realised nothing felt better than being completely present in the world - even if it wasn't the norm. I lost some friends along the way, but maybe they were never really friends to begin with. I kept living fully. 

Last year, in April 2025, my migraines got worse, the tumour had grown (still non cancerous). I adjusted again. It served as a reminder that life moves, it's precious and that I can't stay still in anything less than magic. I am so grateful to be here. 

Life isn't perfect. I'm not perfect, nor are you. It is the continuous imperfections of life that build something truly valuable. 

This entry was not written for pity and it wasn't written for sympathy, it was written with the purpose of perspective - a note on how you want to leave the world. Maybe we can leave it just that little bit better than the way we found it, one small action and interaction at a time. The cliche is that you live each day like it's your last, but my opinion is to continue experiencing life as though it's your first day on earth. 

Life is a test, death is imminent. Live magically, love fiercely, feel fully, laugh childishly. 

Lead with kindness, embrace softness, chase the adventure, light the sparks, dive into the deep end, capture the moments, notice the details.

Spend the money, board the plane before fear convinces you otherwise, kiss the person before life changes shape, say the words, be generous with your time, try something new, enjoy the simple pleasures, wear the lingerie. 

Be totally, unapologetically alive. Leave a beauty mark you won't regret. 

 

 

Cultivating Cinematic Calm

Cultivating Cinematic Calm 

There is a quiet courage that comes with calmness. Calmness, unlike chaos, is a choice - not a reaction or ramification but a conscious decision for your nervous system, mind, energy and body. It takes immense courage to take control, and to have enough discipline to evoke an authentic calm.

Calm: A state of tranquility, serenity, or stillness, characterised by freedom from agitation, excitement or disturbance. 

Calm is the rejection of collective cultural conventions tied to urgency, priority and repercussion. Society chases calm; in meditation, in yoga classes, in self help books. Calm for most, seems like an unattainable alien concept completely at odds with our modern world and perhaps only exists in temples on the foothills of Tibet. 

Calm, however, isn't a performance or even a community. It isn't a class or a revelation from a well written book. It's a state of being achieved only by allowing social constructs to effectively become pebbles on the beach rather than an all encompassing omnibus of cortisol and dopamine spikes. 

The realities of life are difficult to ignore. Between the unrelenting pressures of work, career and finance,  the uncertainty of geo politics across the world, the desires, obligation and maintenance tied to relationships and family, the uncertainty of health and time - how can authentic calmness be achieved in an echo chamber of universal commitments and conflicts? 

Buddhism preaches Impermanence (Anicca) for calm. Understanding that all things change is designed to stop us fighting reality, which brings the human spirit a natural sense of peace. In simple terms, letting go of control and realising that many aspects of life are unpredictable and instead focusing on stillness. 

Contrastingly, Buddhism also teaches compassion, mindfulness and awareness for calm - which includes identifying when "this is stress" which creates a space between physicality and the emotion, reducing its impact whilst also refocusing on showing compassion to others. 

What I find most interesting about both of these teachings is that they simultaneously preach conscious calm, and the rejection of control and power. (Which is much easier said than done for the vast majority of people). Particularly poignantly, is the refocusing of mind to show compassion - effectively, creating a distraction with positive implications.  But, I would argue, to make a conscious decision to be a certain way - you must have an element of discipline, power and courage- not over circumstance, but of yourself.

Calmness doesn't only exude peace. Calmness offers benefits not immediately visible to the naked eye. Aside from a reduction in stress and anxiety, it improves cognitive function and decision making; having a domino effect on life trajectory as a whole (work, career, finance) . It enhances physical health, lowering blood pressure. Mentally, it boosts emotional regulation which feeds to strengthening relationships through better communication (relationships, family). Calmness increases resilience under pressure, creating a pathway to navigating crises efficiently rather than reactively (chaos management). 

So, really - and ironically - calmness is actually the answer to most of realities challenges.

So, how is it possible to calm a "monkey brain".  

We know the what, but how?

Outside of the usual, stereotypical zen gardens and steel tongue drums - what everyday, intentional tangible actions and decisions can be made to manifest a deep, cardinal, authentic inner calm?

Have you ever watched a film, or even something across social media that just evokes and exudes a "feeling" of calm? Something that instantly makes you feel light, at ease - thoughts settle, heart beats a little slower, nervous system starts to self regulate?

Or perhaps you're having a massage with softly infused nature sound music, and you drift into sensory emptiness....what do those things have in common?

Step 1: Nature

The easiest, and often most overlooked road to calm is right in front of us. Our earth offers us perspective and scale beyond all other manmade constructs. It diminishes and dilutes business, stress and self imposed tension. The sound of fresh running water from a stream or river, or ocean waves crashing against a coastline. The echoes of bird song and crickets. The smell of dew under a forest canopy, or burst of flower scent in a park. The feeling of salt and sand on your feet, the fresh drop of snow on your nose on a mountain top. The panorama of rolling hills and the drama of cliff edges. An orange sunset or pink sunrise creating a hypnotic feast for the eyes - or simply, watching the rain hit your windowsill.  Nature has a way of shrinking the scale of stress to nothing more than a pebble in a world capable of so much sensory calmness. 

Step 2: Compassion

I am of the firm belief that only you can be responsible for your own state of mind. However, few things in life are more rewarding than showing kindness and understanding in an environment so intensely geared toward elusiveness and self gain. Extending warmth to others isn't just calming for your mind, but a rewarding ripple effect from one person to another. This chain reaction doesn't just create calm and satisfaction within you, but a cascading flow of compassion from person to person - which in just its existence alone repairs and elevates the quality of human relationships and connection.

Compassion creates understanding,  understanding breeds warmth, warmth invites calm. 

Step 3: Music 

It goes without saying that music is a healer of many things; and also a catalyst for others.

The right kind of music can transport you inside of yourself, disconnect you - ironically - from the noise of the world. Offering peaceful solitude, perspective and recalibration with just a few notes on a piano, flute or drums which transport serotonin when you need it most. Some music is designed to make you think, some is designed to make you feel, some to make you act - some, is designed to make you succumb to yourself, take a deep breath and start fresh. 

Step 4: Perspective

Big picture thinking. In moments of crisis, take a step back and assess how bad things really are - or do they just seem bad, right now. Is it worth being frantic? Do you really need to panic? Is it worth losing your temper? Is it worth the chaos you may be subconsciously building in your mind? Or is it simply something that you need to deal with right now and that's it. Can you control it? Do you need to control it? Perspective is a tool we all know exists but need to use more effectively. Think bigger, and the things that rob you of your peace everyday will probably become a lot smaller and easier to manage more effectively. 

Step 5: Passions

Find pleasure in your own self care and passions. Passion can be a wide range of things. It's something that ultimately gives you joy. Self care is designed to heal. Some people find it in exercise, some in travel, some in art. 

Or all of the above. Although the avenues can all be vastly different, they come to the same conclusion - a form of self care, self love, self exploration and self expression. When people are able to look after and express themselves in a healthy way without obstacles or judgement, calmness is a natural by product.

Step 6: Breathe

Take things a little slower. Take a moment to breathe, calm the urgency, feel the moments deeply and don't be afraid to simply be in that moment. Cancel the white noise and just breathe. Bring yourself back to the beginning. Close your eyes so that you can see, and when you open them - everything is clearer.

There is no one size fits all, but calmness can be captivating. We place so much importance on disarray, urgency, perceived priorities and disaster that we forget how rewarding embracing the calm can really be. It allows us to create healthier relationships with ourselves and the people around us. It helps us gain perspective and control over our work and day to day challenges, functioning as a nervous system reset so that our bodies and minds feel less overwhelmed. In an age where we are exhausted and overstimulated it has never been more important to embrace soft tranquility. 

Calmness is understanding that so much of life is completely out of our hands but concurrently that our own peace is entirely within our control.

Calmness is a discipline whose reward leads us to seeing life in a soft warm focus,  it's cinematic. 

 

 

Air

With my imminent 39th birthday 18 days away...

Gemini - The Twins 

Element: Air

A gemini woman is laughter in the rain, 

Dancing barefoot through joy and pain.

She was born like a wildflower swaying into light,

Where rivers keep secrets all through the night,

A gemini heart is a wandering breeze,

Speaking in birdsong and the language of trees.

She tangos with storms before the flames, 

Spinning through fields that remember her name,

Collecting the sunlight that slips through her hair, 

Leaving soft chaos in suspended air. 

One soul is the ocean, restless and blue, 

The other is the forest, still covered in dew, 

One longs for mountains and cold northern skies,

One burns like a sandy sunset that never quite dies.

She falls into pages the way rapids run,

Chasing old poets and theories for fun,

Collecting small fragments of people and places,

Storing whole galaxies deep in their faces. 

She'd rather be understood deeply than admired,

Though sometimes the two become intwined and turns to desire,

She hops like a grasshopper hard to restrain,

Then she kisses your mind again and again.

She chases deep talks through midnight skies,

With a restless body and bright wild eyes,

Yet when she chooses which soul to hold,

She burns warm, devoted and bold.

She asks too many questions at half past two,

About life and the stars and what makes people true,

A mind like wildfire tearing through trees,

Carving ideas the way oceans do seas.

She talks to the moon like an old trusted friend, 

 Starting stories with the sun that never end, 

Tracing her thoughts through the shape of the tide, 

Keeping whole universes hidden inside.

She reads people slowly like difficult prose, 

Searching for meanings they keep carefully close,

Finding mystery beneath what they say,

The hidden small wars that they keep tucked away.

A butterfly mind with cyclonic wings,

Drawn toward beautiful and dangerous things,

Laughing like waterfalls breaking through stone,

Yet somehow still frightened of the winds yet to be blown.

She'll love like the earth after lifetimes of pain,

Suddenly green and alive once again,

Then drift like the mist through distant terrane,

Impossible to fully capture, keep or sustain. 

And if you should find her asleep in the grass,

While clouds and constellations silently pass,

Speak softly, some spirits were never designed, 

To belong to the world for too long at a time. 

Through playful words and sweet surprise, 

In stolen glances and soft replies,

She shares in ways both fierce and free, 

A system of thought and light poetry. 

Don't be frightened by her strange winding mind,

Embrace the softness and beauty you might find, 

Hold her gently as hurricanes are hard to tame,

Especially one born under Gemini's name.

 

 

The Dance - Poetry

The Dance

I move like water calm before the wake,

Like rivers that tremble before they break. 

The music pours smoke through my bones and spine, 

Turning flesh and breath into borrowed wine.

Desire lives deep in the arch of my back, 

In the dangerous spaces self control lacks.

I dance in storms before they arrive, 

Heavy with thunder, electric and alive. 

I move like a wildfire learning restraint, 

Like colour escaping the edge of paint. 

I spin like planets pushed higher and higher,

Orbiting rhythm, gravity and fire. 

The floor hums softly beneath my feet, 

Like earth itself has discovered a heartbeat. 

Each motion unravels yet another disguise,

A language and pulse with no need for eyes. 

The music enters me low and deep,

Waking the parts of myself that refuse to sleep.

And when I spin the the whole world seemed to pause,

Caught somewhere between performance and applause. 

My hips speak truths my mouth never would, 

Of hunger disguised as being understood.  

I move like the sea when the moon pulls too near,

Chaotic, consuming, ecstatic and severe. 

Because women were not made for stillness or sleep,

We were made to be felt - profound and deep. 

The Dance

 

Weeping Willow - Poetry

Weeping Willow

Weeping Willow

Beneath the weeping willows veil,

Where the wind blew and the swans set sail, 

I stood close and felt your breath,

Like something sweet that threatened death.

The day was warm, the air was slow,

The lake whispered soft below,

And every branch that swayed above, 

Seemed tangled in my thoughts and needed a shove.

Your eyes held mine without a word,

The loudest silence I have ever heard,

While fingertips brushed fleetingly,

A spark, a dare, at least for me. 

Wanting to pull you near,

To taste the things that we could not hear,

To let the willow hide our sin,

While my darting eyes explored your skin.

The silver leaves danced overhead, 

As wild thoughts circled in my head, 

So if there's ever such a place, 

Where longing can finally leave a trace,

Where the the leaves weep for something true,

Back to that willow, with you.

It bent as though it understood,

The hunger hidden beneath the good, 

A keeper of unfinished things,

Of stolen breaths and tangled wings.

The willow wept like it once knew,

What aching hearts are destined to do. 

 

Time

 

Time

Time: The continuous, irreversible progression of existence, moving from past, through present, to future.

Duration: The measured period during which an action or condition exists.

Dimension: A fourth dimension, combined with spatial dimensions, in the space-time continuum.

Measurement: A system for organising events in sequence.

Psychological: The subjective experience of time passing, which can speed up or slow down based on cognitive perception. 

Many years ago I wrote a piece entitled "Time Credit: Spending time in an interest bearing account".

I simplified the concept of time into categories of different types of 'spenders' and what it meant about their individual psychology and priorities. Although theoretically practical, summarising time into such a basic concept was a disservice to the ultimacy and importance of time, the most valuable asset that we have. 

Philosophical speaker Alan Watts once argued that time is a social illusion, emphasising that only the present moment exists, and continued to famously state that we live in a culture "hypnotised by the illusion of time, missing reality by focusing entirely on memory or expectation." Watts pushed a narrative that urged living in the "eternal present" rather than wasting energy on the future. 

This concept is eutopic but flawed. On the one hand Watts preaches and perpetuates that a real, creative life only really happens when you stop rushing and worrying and move with the eternal present, but on the other hand Watts states that we are never actually experiencing anything other than the present and that time is a social institution used for measurement, not a physical reality. 

I have always been fascinated with time - it's speed, its finality, it's biological prowess and most of all, its functional mystery. There is nothing more powerful than the concept and enigma of time (illusion or not). People fear it, devour it, waste it but more often than not, never question it. Societal pressures, expectations and perceived milestones outweigh the value of time to a checklist of "expected achievements before we die," which leads me to my next reference from theologian William Penn 

"Time is what we want most but we use worst."

Seems obvious, doesn't it? Let's take a step back to societal pressures and expectations. 

• Birth
• Education
• Career
• Mortgage
• Marriage 
• Children
• Retirement
• Maybe grandchildren
• Death

In this case, time is deeply misconstrued as societal conformism. 

Reflecting on Penns quote, he refers to choices rather than time itself. The current global statistic of diagnosed recorded depression is sitting at an estimated  at 5.7% of adults. When including entire populations, one in 21 people experience high levels of emotional distress, with depression being especially prominent in 18-40 year olds. Studies from The University of Melbourne state that the impact of expectations and cultural societal pressure are largely to blame. So, I can safely assume that the "check list" and its requirements may be a contributing factor in how time is poorly used, at least for some people. 

"They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself" is a quote famously penned by artist Andy Warhol. 

It seems like a very elementary point of view, but, is it?

What if time was spent singularly living based off of instinct, want and need rather than adhering to a script based on the assumption that life is a one-size fits all pressure cooker of achievements. What if time was experiential rather than didactic? To quote my birthday twin JFK "conformity is the jailer or freedom and the enemy of growth."  and one of my favourite authors JRR Tolkien "not all who wander are lost".

Could it be that the answer to modern day sufferance and time 'wasting' is simply to welcome a free society that cherishes nonconformity as opposed to uniformity? Encouraging people to live on their own terms, in the present that could be pleasurable and meaningful, as opposed to under sufferance for perceived reward? Remove the benchmarks and everything changes. 

Time: the past, present and future. A tool to learn, live and evolve - to change. A ticking clock that could run out of battery at any moment. But, how do we make that clock kinetic - how do we stop time?

No, we're not going to fall into a black hole. 

Between luck, fate and biology, we can only manipulate time to a certain degree, but, we can still manipulate it to work on our terms. 

The advantage of having a past, reflecting on memories and referencing different periods of our world is that we give ourselves the ability to fully embody the present in peelable layers in order to anticipate a future that is a direct result of the way that we choose to spend our "now."

A good reference point is in Buddhism, time is not an absolute, linear or external reality, but a relative mental construct dependent on causes, conditions and perception.  Meaning that past, present and future are all combined to create an active, present moment as opposed to linguistic differences of before and after. 

In simple terms, the past is now, the present is now, and the future is now. Slightly differing from the Watts mentality that time is wasted focusing on the past or future - in this case, all elements are equally as valuable; and whilst placing equal value on all of these moments, we are effectively deconstructing the illusion of time by not defining what qualifies as "right now."

Therefore time doesn't move forward or backwards - it stands still. And if you really think about it, this theory is the most malleable to life as we know it. As humans, we are nostalgic for the past, we take the present for granted and we are either excited or fearful of the future. What if we changed that though? What if we looked at all three as though they were today: 

• So we can feel the joy and pain of yesterday.
• So that we can be present today and not dreaming of tomorrow.
• So that we can see ahead whilst simultaneously living in the now.

They all feed off of each other; blurring lines of differentiation. This is how we live a full human experience without feeling time, embracing change.

Now the boring part: 

Time goes hand in hand with biology, as much as we try to run from it - we do age, it's unescapable. But how do we slow down the wrath that time takes on our bodies? This is probably the easiest to execute and will work directly in correlation with the mental health required to reassess life and time as a whole.

We bounce back to nonconformism. It is possible to metaphorically age backwards. It means embracing a lifestyle that may not be the  most common or understood. 

• Stop poisoning our bodies. It sounds dramatic, but alcohol is poison, cigarettes are poison, vapes are poison, drugs (legal or not) are also poison. The kindest thing we can do is support our engines, because once it starts having problems it's very hard to move backwards. Living in a world where poor lifestyle habits are normalised isn't only putting a timer on our biological clocks, but also stopping us from experiencing life in a real, fully immersive way. 
• Exercise. In a day and age that encourages being sedentary, be it at a seated office job, or the distractions of never ending screen time entertainment -  we need to be the exceptions. Move - nothing revives youth more than movement. Walk, run, weight train, dance, stretch, swim. Idle bodies are times workshop, nothing makes a human feel and succumb to the loss of time more than seeing it on themselves.
• Food. We wouldn't put dirty fuel in a premium car, would we? If we did, we would be knowingly shortening the life cycle of the car, so why would we do that to our bodies? 
• Sleep. this one seems counter productive. But, time spent tired, or sleep deprived everyday isn't time worth having at all. There is a difference between quality over quantity. Our bodies need to recharge. 
• Laughter. Laugher is a powerful anti aging mechanism that is proven to lower stress and inflammation, improve heart health, boost the immune system, act as a natural pain reliever, and engage cognitive function. A 15 year study has found that individuals with a strong sense of humour had a lower risk of death and disability (in a study of 14,000 older adults). It is also a great way to deal with the challenges that come with life. 

"Our bodies are our gardens, our wills are our gardeners" - William Shakespeare.

In closing, time is what we make it. It is our most precious, non-renewable resource, urging us to cherish life and live intentionally on our own terms and nobody else's rules. Time is the only currency we spend without ever knowing how much balance we have left, we must use it wisely. 

Live fully and cultivate leading with our hearts, minds and bodies, that way we will never be lost in the labyrinth milky-way of time - it may even stand still at just the right moment; even if it's just for a little while. 

   

A Key to the Chaos of Contemporary Communication

 A Key to the Chaos of Contemporary Communication.

Distractions. 

We live in the age of distraction and attention span deficit.

The consumer market of online entertainment has been fine tuned to quick, concise and over in mili-seconds "content" . Arguably, adult generations have devolved in our ability to focus on one quality interaction to a gateway of meaningless relationship hindering distractions. Instead of chapters of books, we shifted to meme's of quotes or info-vids summarising thousands of words in under a minute. Instead of hours of films we have endless streams of videos, tik toks, snap chats, reels - all short, sweet, and sometimes lacking any real quality and depth - just space fillers, floating through the ether. 

Instead of long, uninterrupted meaningful time and conversations with each other; we have mastered the undesirable art of being together whilst needing time-outs with our phones, televisions and computers in order to fulfil our need for quantity over quality. These were all once characteristics of young children - characteristics that more often than not, people grew out of -  things have changed; and quickly. We have lost the art of meaningful focus and communication.

We have lost the art of courtship and spontaneous interaction in favour of swiping left and right. We have lost the ability to engage deeply, to touch intentionally, to have a rally of conversation, maintain eye contact and be void of superficial distractions. 

There is a a distinct irony in me typing about this on a 14 year old blog, on the internet, I know. I justify this with my deliberate disconnection from social media otherwise, in an attempt to regain control of focus and substance that can be found in a solitary blog with no readers, functioning as somewhere between a journal entry and a philosophical study. 

My focus going forward with these blog entries, is what it has always been - to make you think (if you're reading). Ask questions, find yourself, decide who you want to be, why you want to be that way and ask yourself if today's societal shifts are really something that you need to or want to be part of.

The only natural way to shift from what has become expected into something entirely tailored to you on a human level is to first understand how all of these acts are a hindrance to your over all quality of life. We only live once, and right now as it stands, as a humanity we are wasting away behind screen, behind metaphorical masks of trend and expectation rather than seizing moments and reaching for meaningful adventure and connection. Our lives are not about cross-comparison or sharing every moment - they are supposed to be experiential. Be present, be the exception, you won't regret it. 

Rebel. Rebel against what is expected of you. A rebellion doesn't need to be announced, loud or witnessed. It is felt, it is felt when you talk to a stranger in a cafe or on the street. It is felt when you travel without advertising it to your followers on instagram or facebook, when you watch a concert with your eyes instead of through the camera lens of your phone, when you engage in long, meaningful conversations with your loved ones, friends or family without referencing social media or reaching for your phone. Read a book because you want to get lost in your imagination for as long as it takes to finish, build the chapters in your own mind, or perhaps because you want to learn from words rather than an algorithm. When you hold eye contact that little bit longer than you should, when you climb a mountain for yourself and not for the glorification. When you tell people how you feel without reminding yourself about what society expects of you. 

The quality of your communication and relationships serve as a domino effect to living life in a way that isn't centred around exhibitionism, comparison, or competition, but rather, a real desire to love living, to continue learn, and to experience moments that all become catalysts to conversation, attraction and experiential knowledge that make you a whole being capable of focus and chemistry. 

Rebel. 

 

Be more you

Muchness

Looking back on 2025 now fast approaching mid 2026, it was a year less about self reflection and adjustment and more about rediscovery. There are so many existing stereotypes in life that work to convince us, women more rigidly, that we must "change" with time. Though I certainly don't argue that change of the positive and transformative kind is part of healthy human growth, I have drawn a very firm and deep line in the sand on where that stops and losing the characteristics that make a person uniquely who they are begins. 

Muchness. As the Lewis Caroll tale of Alice in Wonderland once engraved in time "You're not the same as you were before. You were much more..muchier.. You've lost your muchness" . I understand that some might not think basing my life  on a quote from a children's novel (though I have always believed that it is more than that) is the most intelligent, intellectual or even practical choice - but,  I believe there is a lot of merit to the underlying message which can and will ultimately pivot a person from being unhappy or simply satisfied, to existing in their experiential and happiest potential. 

In my own experience, having turned 38 years old last May - I realise that much of the last decade has been dictated by outside circumstances; whether it be 'societal norms" or people who are trapped in an echo chamber of their own making. What I mean by this is that slowly and surely, depending on your location, age, gender and career path - your personality can completely shift from who and what you are at base level to something completely unrecognisable that blends into it's surroundings. 

I would be lying if I didn't own up to my own Peter Pan Syndrome. But, that leads to the question- why is that a negative thing? Why is the desire to remain externally excited about life in the way you are during your youth something to be frowned upon? What is wrong with being excited by the same things you were as a child or young adult? Aging is a physical act, and shouldn't be automatically transmitted to personality, passion and soul.

So, the question is - how do we revisit who we really are and let go of the person our surroundings has manufactured? Is it possible? Watch this space..