Mindfulness Practice

I used to be highly functional—a woman who could do it all, juggle countless responsibilities, and forget nothing. My mind was sharp, my memory impeccable. I thrived on organisation, on efficiency, on being able to manage everything life threw at me. And the man I loved? He was the same. My soul mate. We understood each other’s drive and passion, our shared hunger for achievement, our ability to handle it all. Then everything changed when he burnt out. It was sudden and devastating. He couldn’t work anymore. The fire that once drove him dimmed, and then extinguished. I stood by him, unwavering. I fought for him, fought to keep him alive. I pulled blades from his hands, stopped him from slitting his wrists, did everything in my power to keep him safe. Even having him committed in the hopes that it would help, that it would give him a fighting chance. But it didn’t. In the end, he lost his battle. He took his own life. And with him, he took a part of me. Not just a huge chunk of my...

Nature has an incredible way of teaching us about resilience, strength, and renewal. The sun rises after every night, never questioning whether it should. The waves crash against the shore, retreat, and return again with unwavering certainty. Trees lose their leaves in autumn, stand bare in winter, yet bloom again in spring. These natural cycles remind us that we, too, can trust in our ability to rise, adapt, and keep going—even in the face of hardship. Embracing Life’s Ebb and Flow Much like the ocean’s tides, life moves in waves. There are moments of calm and clarity, and there are storms that shake us to our core. It’s easy to feel defeated in difficult times, but nature teaches us that nothing stays the same forever. Just as the storm eventually passes, so too will the struggles we face. When we understand that challenges are part of the natural rhythm of life, we begin to approach them differently. Instead of fearing the dark moments, we can learn to accept them as a necessary par...

Today, hope slipped through my fingers like sand, no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. The answer came swiftly, blunt and final—a door slammed shut, a path I had clung to now blocked. I felt the weight of it settle deep in my chest, a heaviness so suffocating it stole the air from my lungs. I told myself I had prepared for this possibility, but nothing truly prepares you for the moment hope is snatched away. The exhaustion isn’t just physical; it’s in my bones, in my soul. I am drained, worn thin by the relentless cycle of fighting, waiting, believing—only to be told no. A voice inside whispers, What’s the point? Maybe it would be easier to let go, to stop pushing, to stop trying to swim against the tide. But another part of me, the part that has carried me through storms before, resists. Maybe not today, maybe not right now—but at some point, I will stand up again. For now, I just sit in this feeling. I let the pain be what it is. Because before I find my way forward, I need ...

Healing is not a destination. It’s not a place you arrive at, where everything suddenly makes sense, and the past no longer aches. Healing is a journey—a slow, winding path with detours, setbacks, and moments of clarity that feel like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. For so long, I thought healing meant erasing the past. If I could just forget, if I could just move on, then maybe I would be whole. But I’ve come to realise that wholeness isn’t about forgetting—it’s about integrating. It’s about taking the broken pieces and making something beautiful out of them. Some days, the weight of old wounds still presses against my ribs. Some nights, echoes of past pain whisper in the quiet. But I am learning to sit with it, to hold myself gently, to remind myself that I am more than my scars. Healing is in the small moments—the way I breathe deeper now, the way I listen to my body instead of punishing it, the way I choose love over fear, again and again. I am not the same person I was...

We all have big dreams, right? Maybe you want to start a business, write a book, run a marathon, or just wake up before your alarm for once. But here’s the thing—dreams don’t magically come true just because we really, really want them to. (Trust me, I’ve tried.) Nope. They need action. And action needs habits. And habits? Well… habits need discipline. Ugh. Why Motivation is a Liar We love motivation—it’s exciting, energising, and makes us feel like we can conquer the world! But motivation is also flaky. One day it’s got us meal-prepping like a health guru, and the next, we’re eating biscuits straight out of the packet while binge-watching Netflix. The real game-changer? Discipline. The unsexy, often annoying ability to do the thing even when we don’t feel like it. Want to write a book? That means writing when you’d rather scroll social media. Want to get fit? That means working out when your couch whispers sweet nothings to you. Want to save money? That means resisting ye...

I have a morning routine that, on paper, sounds like a productivity dream. I wake up, drink a glass of water, make myself a cup of coffee, do a quick 15-minute workout, journal for a bit, and then dive into lesson planning or writing while my mind is still fresh—all before 6 a.m. when I officially start my day. Sounds great, right? A structured, disciplined start to the morning, setting the tone for the rest of the day. But here’s the reality of how today went: I woke up and had my glass of water—so far, so good. But then, I felt too sore and tired to work out. I made my coffee but added milk (at least I skipped the sugar, so small victories?). I’m supposed to be fasting until 8 a.m., which means no milk or sugar, but today, I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Then came journaling. I opened my notebook, pen in hand, ready to reflect, plan, or pour out my thoughts. And all I could think was: Blah. I’m tired. Not exactly the profound insight I was hoping for. So, I jotted down some...