What’s on my mind?
I’ve loved stories for as long as I can remember, telling them, listening to them, living inside them.
When I was a kid, my dad would tell the same stories over and over, and somehow I never got tired of them. My mum gave me my love for reading, and I still crave a good fiction book (I’m currently deep in my fantasy era). I was also that kid who wrote long letters to friends, and yes, the occasional boy here and there, because writing always felt like the easiest way to say what my heart couldn’t say out loud.
As I grew up, that part of me got quieter. The rush of life, I guess. Less reading. Less writing. More getting on with it.
But in my late twenties, writing found its way back to me in a different form. With the rise of blogs and online magazines, I got my first chance to write in a more official way, and it reminded me how much I loved it.
It’s been on and off (like many things in my life), but no matter what I’m doing, I always return to the same path. Words.
Here in Australia, I began writing for an online magazine called Lifelover Magazine, where I explored everything from recipes (yes, there was a time I was very into cooking) to wellbeing, personal experiences, and all the tiny moments that shape us.
Now, I’m writing for myself.
So this space will be a mix of yoga, education, reflections, stories, and whatever is alive in my mind at the time. A wide mix, but one that feels exactly like me.
Welcome in.
What lenses are we going to choose today?
Perhaps wisdom is not about finding the right lens.
Perhaps wisdom is remembering that we are wearing one.
A Note from the Writer
I have always loved writing, but lately I have decided to focus more on personal pieces, returning to something that has always been part of me.
I am not on the wrong path… I just need to recalibrate.
When we are in “the rot,” as I call it, it’s hard to see any perspective. Is it all bad? Are we actually on the wrong path? In my case, it was, “How did I get stuck here again?”
My first love.
My first love wasn’t like you might think
It wasn’t a boy or a girl. It was something I did, something that gave me a sense of belonging before I even knew I was looking for it. It was also my first heartbreak.
I was around six or seven when I started rhythmic gymnastics. I still remember the excitement of those early lessons, the trials to get into different teams in my city, and the pride of finally making it into one. I remember my first coach, Patricia, being both warm and firm, helping me build the foundations of the gymnast I was becoming.
Then came the big leagues, the harder training, the first tournament, and the first time I learned what it felt like to try your hardest and still not be enough.
It took me years to understand that maybe I never stopped loving the sport. I just needed distance, perspective, and a different way back.
Am I stuck or am I growing?
How many times have I felt stuck in my life? Thousands. Each time for a different reason, in a different area. Yet all those moments have one thing in common: what comes after. Growth.
Maybe it is because I have just entered a new decade of life, or because my current job is ending, or because I am marking ten years in Australia. Whatever it is, I can feel that a chapter is closing. But something inside me hesitates to begin the next one.
I know growth is not linear. I even have a tattoo to remind me of that. Even when we feel as if we are going in circles, sometimes all we need is a shift in perspective to realise that we are actually spiralling upward.
But what if we are not? What if we are still caught in an old loop, stuck in repetition instead of rebirth?