12/07/2026
Lately, life has felt like a constant balancing act.
Juggling my stable job, my creative work, and the school holidays has meant trying to be fully present in every role~provider, mother, creator. It’s a dance so many working mums know well, especially those of us living far from family, without the village that so often holds others. We learn to carry it all, even when our arms are already full.
Then, just before the holidays came to an end, I was told that my stable job would no longer be mine. Business realities. Financial pressures. A story many people are living right now.
At first, it felt like something was being taken away.
But what if endings are not only losses? What if they are invitations?
When the structure we’ve relied on begins to dissolve, we’re left standing in unfamiliar space. It’s uncomfortable. Uncertain. Yet perhaps this is where we finally meet ourselves without the distractions of constant doing.
I’ve found myself asking questions that are less about finding answers and more about understanding who I am becoming.
Why is it that work born from the heart: creative work, healing work, work that nourishes others:so often struggles to nourish the person creating it?
How many of us have learned to separate purpose from survival?
At what point did we begin believing that security lives somewhere outside ourselves?
And what if this chapter isn’t asking me to work harder, but to transform the way I value what I bring into the world?
Maybe this isn’t the end of stability.
Maybe it’s the beginning of becoming someone who no longer measures stability by a paycheck alone, but by trust, alignment, and the courage to keep creating even when the path isn’t yet clear.
Metamorphosis rarely feels graceful while it’s happening. It often looks like uncertainty. Like letting go. Like standing between who we were and who we’re becoming.
Perhaps that’s exactly where I am.
The wildflowers never ask permission to bloom, nor do they compare themselves to the garden. They simply trust that the season meant for them will arrive, and in doing so, they remind us that our roots often know the way long before our minds do.
Sample of recent wild clay
