Hello and a slightly belated, Happy New Year.
I’ve been paying attention to the rhythm of these early weeks.
Not rushing into big declarations.
Not launching into urgency.
Just allowing things to take their shape.
You may read these notes as snippets,
small moments that meant something right then and there.
Cut out, almost like pieces of a collage.
You’re welcome to linger with them,
to enjoy them,
or simply to recognise something of your own.
There have been many “Days in the Life of…” reflections lately.
Not milestone days.
Not dramatic turning points.
Just ordinary ones, the kind that quietly shape who we are becoming.
I’ve shared them on different platforms.
I know that some of you on my email list
are not on social media.
So today, I wanted to gather these days here.
Because they aren’t separate fragments.
They are notes from the in-between —
between writing and speaking,
between planning and making,
between who we were and who we are settling into.
Day in the Life of a Writer
Not writing today, just being aware.
A sentence from weeks ago keeps returning,
asking to be trusted.
Flow-inspired creation in motion.
That returning sentence seems to whisper:
Pick up a pen, or a brush.
When words falter, return to creative flow.
There are moments when sound carries what words cannot.
A note, a crackle, a breath —
each a messenger of its own.
So much gathers before the writing does:
life, conversations, half-formed ideas.
The words arrive once enough has been lived.
Writing, I’m learning, is not always about producing.
Sometimes it is about allowing.
Sometimes it is about listening
until meaning rises on its own.
Day in the Life of Creating
Creating today felt like inhabiting my own way of being.
Unrepeatable, ordinary, original.
In thought, in movement, in presence.
Creativity as vision, imagination, and aliveness,
not something added to life, but lived.
One step at a time.
Creation today was in choosing the unknown.
Many variables. No fixed outcome.
That familiar spark at the edge,
where curiosity does the leading.
The season of writing has settled.
Talks on the horizon, plans taking shape.
And yet today, I followed intuition into a shop
and came home with wool, ink, canvas, colour.
Not on the list —
but clearly part of the work.
Creating, for me, moves in quiet currents.
It doesn’t always announce itself.
It simply asks to be followed.
Day in the Life of Becoming
I’ve been thinking about what it means
to grow comfortable in our own skin.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just in the everyday choices:
Choosing without asking three other opinions first.
Trusting what feels true.
Allowing our difference to take up space.
There’s a particular kind of ease that begins there.
What if becoming ourselves isn’t about changing,
but about no longer negotiating who we are?
Day in the Life…
Small notes.
Small shifts.
Nothing spectacular.
And yet, it appears
this is where life reshapes itself.
In the in-between.
In the pauses.
In the choosing of wool instead of certainty.
In the trusting of a sentence that returns.
Ordinary days.
Extraordinary, if we are paying attention.
Day in the Life of Creating
Started with colour.
No destination.
Water added.
Paint tilted, blown, allowed to move.
It may become something. It may not.
What mattered was the feeling of experimenting,
of being with the process,
of the not-knowing,
of allowing it to become what it will,
and letting that be enough for today.
What if today is not about arriving,
but about being with what unfolds?
What if it only asks to be inhabited?
Inhabited fully —
listening, noticing, being, becoming
in your own chosen way.
Perhaps then we begin to see
that nothing was ever truly “in between” at all.
This was the work.
This is the becoming.
This might simply be life.
I wonder what your in-between looks like.