Mindfulness Practice

If life came with a remote, most of us would be pressing the “mute” button on certain people, skipping past the awkward bits, and turning the volume way down on Monday mornings. Sadly, no such remote exists.  Instead, we’re left with a lot of things we wish we could control: what people think of us, the weather on braai (BBQ) day, or that one colleague who just won’t stop oversharing. Spoiler alert: we can’t. I saw this simple diagram the other day:  Two circles: 🔘 The outer one says: “Things we CANNOT control.” 🔘 The inner one? “Things we CAN control.” And honestly? It was the gentle slap of truth I didn’t know I needed. We can't control what others say or do, how they feel, or what happened in 2015 that still randomly pops into our minds at 2 a.m. But we can control our reactions. Our words. Our priorities. Our bedtime (even if Netflix disagrees). And our self-talk, because, let’s be honest, that inner critic is often just a drama queen with a loudspeaker. When ...

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...

  Yesterday, the skies wore a shroud, A veil of sorrow, heavy and proud. Loneliness hummed, soft yet near, Its echo lingered, sharp and clear. But today, sunlight weaves its way, Through broken shadows of yesterday. Peace whispers where pain had been, A quiet bloom that grows within. Each tear that fell became a seed, Pain nurturing beauty’s creed. Now I breathe, with calm inside, Grateful for the ebbing tide. Life unfolds like the ocean's sway, Grief and joy carving its way. Yesterday's shadows softly wane, Leaving the lessons, keeping the gain.