Posts

Thought traffic

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  This week, my mind has been on a kind of accidental world tour. One moment, I’m watching political debates unfold and finding myself amused by the intensity. People defend their views like heirlooms, even when those views wobble under the slightest pressure. There’s something oddly human about it. The need to be right. The need to belong to an idea. Then, without warning, my attention softens. A single flower pushes through cracked ground, blooming in the middle of climate anxiety and environmental chaos. It feels almost rebellious. Fragile, yet determined. And suddenly I’m emotional over something that doesn’t need words to make its point. My thoughts keep swinging. Empathy gives way to anxiety. Curiosity drifts into prayer. I think about parenthood. The quiet pride when your child does something small but astonishing. The way a simple moment can rearrange your heart. But alongside that joy lives the weight. The sleepless nights. The constant low-grade fear. The sacrifices no...
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Weekend Alchemy

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  They say being busy is a badge of honor. But I’ve discovered that having too much time can be its own special kind of chaos. When I lived far from work, my weeks were a blur of commutes. Time was a scarce resource, meticulously budgeted. But when I moved into town, that scarcity vanished. Suddenly, my weekends stretched out before me, vast and empty. And in that emptiness, my mind would throw a party the worst kind. It would invite all my past regrets: Did they really forgive me? It would parade anxieties about the future: Why don’t I have what they have? I’d get stuck in a loop of comparison and fretting, nursing worries without taking a single step forward. I was busy, but only in my head. It was exhausting. The turning point was a simple but radical decision: to fill the empty hours with my own two hands. I decided Saturdays were for doing , not drifting. I claimed them for myself no work, no chores. Instead, I picked up volunteering sessions. I learned the patie...
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Lost & Found

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  They told us it would happen. But there’s a difference between knowing something and feeling it. When the internet went off this week, my initial reaction wasn’t panic it was a strange, quiet disbelief. I’d tap my screen to look something up, text a friend, or ask an AI a quick question… and nothing. The silence wasn’t just in the air; it was in my hands, in my habits, in my confidence. I realized how deeply I’d woven the internet into my daily fabric. It was my instant map, my research assistant, my sounding board, and my connection to “what’s happening.” Without it, I felt untethered. There were videos I couldn’t watch, updates I couldn’t get, and conversations that simply paused mid-thought. The hardest part wasn’t the lack of a tool; it was the lack of knowing . I had to sit with my own unfiltered thoughts, make decisions without a second opinion, and navigate my day without a digital compass. But in that void, something else emerged: a profound sense of calm. ...
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Willing to lead

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  As election week draws near, I find myself considering the true meaning of leadership. Many of us are taught to equate leadership with authority, power, and the ability to make important decisions. While these qualities are part of what people see, the real foundation of leadership is far more personal and subtle. At its heart, leadership isn’t about being at the top or having influence over others it’s about service. The best leaders are those motivated by a genuine desire to make things better for others, for organizations, and for the community. Rarely does anyone become a leader fully prepared; more often, leadership is born in quiet moments when we least expect it and before we feel ready. Think about your own experiences. Maybe your first leadership role came as a parent, or when you were asked to manage a group, elected as a prefect, or found yourself guiding others through a crisis at work. In these moments, you might not have seen yourself as a leader, but others d...
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Festive season

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  There is something quietly magical about this time of year. The festive season arrives like a collective exhale, inviting rest, joy, re connection, and reflection. It feels as though, for once, the stars agree to align. Schools close, work slows, travel pauses, and people who have spent most of the year scattered across responsibilities finally find themselves in the same place, at the same time. This season offers more than celebration. It creates space. Space to rest bodies that have been carrying the year. Space to reflect on experiences we rushed past. Space to gather with people we love and share stories we never quite had time to tell. In many ways, it becomes a living archive of the year that was. Of course, it is not without its contrasts. For some, family gatherings come with warmth and laughter. For others, they arrive carrying comparisons, expectations, and the familiar tension of being reminded of what has or has not been achieved. Yet even within that friction, the...
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Fantasy traps

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  There is a particular kind of sweetness that lives entirely in the mind. It arrives quietly. A glance. A passing thought. Then suddenly, butterflies. Little ones at first, then whole flocks. One moment I was going about my days, doing my work, showing up to social settings. The next, I realized my attention had slipped elsewhere. Not to a place, but to a person. Or rather, to a version of a person I had carefully built in my head. In that private world, we had a story. A beginning. A future. A life that felt warm, comforting, and oddly complete. The fantasy was tender. It felt like a soft blanket I could wrap myself in whenever reality felt dull or demanding. I started craving it. Wanting phone calls to end so I could return to it. Wanting social moments to finish quickly so I could be alone with my thoughts. Slowly, subtly, it began to affect how I showed up in real life. I grew impatient. Distracted. Slightly irritable. Tasks that should have been easy felt heavy because my m...
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Subtle Crossings

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  There is a moment many women recognize instantly. Nothing dramatic happens. No raised voices. No obvious line is crossed. Yet something shifts quietly inside you. A comment lands, and your body reacts before your mind does. A friend recently shared such a moment. A colleague complimented her dress. Then her figure. Then her discipline. Yoga, meditation, the gym. Polite responses followed. The exchange lasted minutes. No insults. No threats. Just words that, on the surface, could easily be framed as harmless. Then came the turn. “You know,” he said, “abroad this would be called sexual harassment.” Suddenly, she was on trial for a conversation she hadn’t initiated. Asked whether she felt uncomfortable, not because he cared, but because the question itself shifted responsibility onto her. In that moment, confusion replaced clarity. If she said yes, she risked being labelled oversensitive. If she said no, she silently consented to discomfort she couldn’t quite name. This is t...
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