Asking for help is opening the door for love I don’t like asking for help. Who does? It brings out all those uncomfortable feelings of vulnerability, loss of independence, of being a burden. It requires a level of honesty and trust I have not mastered before. Haven’t yet, truth to be told. But I’m getting
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The first steps towards any dream are wobbly. We need support and we turn to our family and friends for it. We tell them about our dreams, hopes and fears and if we’re lucky we are met with encouragement and validation. Wow, that sounds amazing. I know that feeling. Wouldn’t it be cool? But
God is in the structure My deepest desire now is to move from striving to flow, both in my creative work and in life. In order to do that, I need structure. Structure is the safe container in which tender ideas can grow and focused work flow. This took me some time to realize.
A reader asked me a question recently. Why do I spend so much time doing things that don’t really generate money? Writing to you like this, for instance. It got me thinking about the why behind my business. There’s a why behind everything you set out to do. If you’re aware of it, it’s
A quick look in my dictionary tells me that a dreamer is either: A visionary. An idealist. A prophet Or A habitually impractical person. An unrealistic person. A person who lives in or escapes to a world of fantasy or illusion. Yes. That sounds familiar. The dreamer is the one who can’t seem to
A friend recently asked me that. We were talking about work, writing and finding your calling and, well, I got a little excited. The answer is yes. I am. I am completely obsessed. Very few things matter to me. If I had to I could sum it up in: True connection with the ones
I read this amazing little book the other day, The Expedition, by Bea Uusma. It tells the story of the Andree polar expedition in 1897, and it reminded me about something really important. (Polar expeditions may not be your first interest, I know. But bear with me. I’ll get to the point in a
I have a little study at home. It’s a tiny room, 2×3 meters, filled with books, art, boxes of paper, pens and stamps (I regularly write real letters), candles, a globe of glass and a madonna figure of bronze, a good sized desk and a little daybed in a nook (with the prettiest William Morris
- In search of a simpler life
- Why I ditched a beautiful career
- To Love’s defence – A letter to my racist friend
- Why I write about sexual violence on a blog about creativity
- If you need permission to rest
- Confessions of an unprofitable human being
- How to burn a little brighter. Or, the end of a favourite myth
- The power of words – a letter from the Psych Ward