All Posts

Yesterday we went to the A&P Show at the Lake Hayes Grounds—something we’ve done every year since living in Queenstown. It’s one of those annual rituals that quietly anchors time, marking the years without much fuss. This year, I entered two sections: a tractor sculpture and a garden gnome, both made from natural resources and recycled materials. And—much to my delight—I won both categories. Which was pretty cool… but also not really the point. What it did do was bring me rig

I'm always trying to look at ways that people can help themselves, even when they can't make changes that would alter their current situation or experience. The environment plays such an important role in how we feel and how we are supported. But you can't always change your environment. Sometimes growth doesn’t look like thriving — it looks like enduring without losing yourself. When you can’t change the environment yet (family, workplace, relationship), the work shifts from

Christmas has a reputation problem. It’s marketed as the most joyful, loving, connected day of the year—sparkling lights, full tables, matching pyjamas, and smiling faces. The kind of joy that comes with a receipt and a carefully curated Instagram post. And yet… for many people, Christmas feels nothing like that. It can feel warm and fuzzy and deeply lonely. Connected on the outside, disconnected on the inside. Celebrated loudly, felt quietly. Both things can be true at the s

Two years ago, I walked the Motatapu Trail Marathon — my very first marathon. Even though I wasn’t running, it was no stroll in the park. There were time limits to beat, hills that went on forever, and moments where I questioned my sanity more than once. But that event changed me. It taught me things about myself — emotionally, physically, spiritually — that I could never have learned anywhere else. I went into that first Motatapu with enthusiasm… and a bit of naïve optimism.

This morning, while I was out walking the dog, I came across something you definitely don’t see every day — a man pulling a tyre behind him, moving with purpose and two walking poles in hand. I smiled and said, “Good morning,” and then added, “I can see you’re training for something… what is it?” He told me he’s preparing for a race in Sweden in March — a sled-pulling event — and since we’re deep in New Zealand summer right now, the tyre is his best stand-in for snow. And hon

There’s something about Tuesdays. They’re not as chaotic as Monday, not as hopeful as Friday, and nowhere near as smug as Sunday. They’re the quiet achievers of the week — the day that shows up, rolls up its sleeves, and gets on with things. Which makes it the perfect day to become Choose-You Day. In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron invites us into the world of the “Artist’s Date” — a weekly appointment with our creativity, curiosity, and inner spark. You go somewhere by yours

In the past, when I worked under someone else’s roof, I learned to tolerate behaviour that didn’t sit well with me. You probably know the type — clients who believe their “status” gives them a free pass, people who bend the rules because they know someone will smooth the wrinkles for them. And back then, I did what many of us do. I swallowed it, smiled, and carried on. Because that’s what the job required. But recently I had an experience that reminded me just how different l

If you’ve ever walked into your car while staring at the moon, hit your head on the boot door hard enough to bleed, or gracefully slipped in the bath and thought, “Well, this is how I go out,” welcome, my friend. You might just be in the perimenopause era. I used to think I was just having “a moment,” but lately, it’s starting to feel like my coordination has taken early retirement. What’s really going on? It turns out, our hormones are not only responsible for mood swings an

When we buy something new, a car, a phone, a shiny piece of furniture, there’s that unmistakable feeling of excitement. We marvel at its perfection, with its unblemished surface, flawless paint, and the crisp smell of “new.” We promise ourselves we’ll look after it. We’ll keep it spotless. We’ll be careful. But time, as it does, quietly reminds us that nothing stays new forever. A little dent. A scratch. A faded patch from the sun. No matter how lovingly we care for something

When I experienced fatigue, I learned very quickly and very painfully that I had to slow down. Not just slow down my calendar or my commitments, but my whole way of being. My thoughts, my urgency, my constant need to do more, achieve more, be more. Slowing down became a survival strategy. It was the only way my body could begin to trust me again. But now, on the other side of that deep rest and recovery, I’ve found something unexpected: a fear of speeding up again. I notice i

In today's fast-paced world, finding balance can feel like an uphill battle. Many of us juggle work, family, and personal interests,...

In today's fast-paced world, finding personal balance and wellbeing can feel like an uphill battle. With endless responsibilities, social...

In a world that constantly demands our attention, it is easy to lose sight of what truly matters: ourselves. Investing in personal...