welcome to my mood board, where i share my thoughts, writing, quotes that inspire me, photographs, and creative projects.
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I’ve always found the opinions of strangers on the internet fascinating. I can be absorbed for hours scrolling through comments on Reddit, wondering who these people are and why they decided to make themselves known. Wondering, as well, how many others there are like me, watching the conversations from the sidelines. I’m grateful to these avatars because, in many ways, I’ve lived through their experiences.
What does it mean to be alive? Technically, it means having a metabolism, growing, evolving and respiring. I think the definition is worth reflecting upon because we take the experience for granted. Maybe that’s because we don’t actively control the process; the beating of our hearts and the digesting of our food happens in the background. And we only really pay attention to our breath if it becomes problematic, like if we have a cold or a condition like asthma. But don’t you think it’s strange that we don’t pay attention to these most fundamental aspects of being human?
can you believe it it’s almost been a year since the last time we all said i can’t believe it’s almost been a year where did it all go? that treacly, sneaky, leaky time what have you done with your year? have you done enough?
In the early years of my education, I was a top-star student. I felt the pressure to achieve, the desire to please, and the unquestioned acceptance of authority. But when I was given free roam in college and university, and it felt like I was no longer held personally to account, my work ethic crumbled. I would have this deep, nagging feeling that I needed to work. But I would avoid doing it until the last minute.
depression is a call for deep rest i heard jim carrey say that in a snapchat video while i was bingeing in the dark something about that line struck me
Discipline. It sounds like the opposite of fun, like routine and structure. And perhaps for that reason it was notably absent from my life, to the point that it began to feel like self-sabotage. It would start, as most things do, at the beginning of the day. My alarm would go off and, despite my best intentions, I would hit snooze. And again. And again. And then I would rush to get showered and dressed and into work (back in those glorious pre-Covid days), by which time I would arrive flustered and unfocused. After a couple cups of coffee I’d be firing on all cylinders but I’d crash by the end of the day and all of the decision-making at work had eroded any willpower I might have to go to t
If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell can you love somebody else? Wise words. Except, how many of us truly love ourselves? In a way that is forgiving, compassionate and gentle? We may have a fraught relationship with our minds, with our bodies, with the parts of us that cause us shame. It can feel like there’s an internal battle going on. It’s no wonder that we look outside ourselves for love, whether from a partner, material possession or status that we think will bring us the happiness we desire.
Do you pay attention to your thoughts Yes, of course Do you pay attention to your dreams No ? Don’t you find it odd that most people ignore the subconscious communicating with them at night time — but give it full attention during the day? Last night, before sleeping, I asked my dreams to show me what is it that I’m not feeling. All day I had felt like there was this big block within me. A feeling that was too much, perhaps. My mind was active, as if it didn’t want to go there.
We are groomed to be results-driven. From an early age we are ushered through school, from one exam to the next. We are told that the harder we work, the more successful we will be. We are encouraged to believe that there is a direct, linear relationship between effort and outcome. This myth is weaved through our capitalist society because it suggests that anyone can become succesful.
I grew up as a people-pleaser. From my naive perspective, being liked and receiving recognition meant that I was doing something right in the eyes of others; my existence was validated. In school, I would get stressed out about exams and homework because I wanted to please the teacher. Outside of lessons, I would try to blend in with the crowd. I even avoided the things I was interested in for fear of being labelled a dork, like joining chess club or playing an instrument.
We all have filters through which we see the world. And it’s our life’s work to peel them away until we are left in direct contact with reality as it is. A filter is a belief that distorts how we receive information. For instance, we could believe that being angry is a sign of aggression. Therefore, when we see this emotion in someone, it might trigger us to be defensive or to question the other person’s intentions. Any sign of anger inside ourselves could be repressed or denied and we may avoid situations that evoke it.
allow me to introduce a new framework a way of being that can be yours for the low price of free a way to love yourself because nothing feels better sexy, right? i must confess though, it’s nothing new it’s the distillation of many other tools things you’re probably familiar with
Creativity is a tool to make sense of confusion in your internal world. This person will feel called to create something and it’s only halfway through the process that it will click as to why it relates to his experience and what the piece is saying. Finishing it becomes the resolution (and all stories have resolution) Creativity becomes instinct. Most people suffer with confusion but don’t have the creative tools to express themselves. He felt fortunate to have been encouraged during his upbringing. But it’s also necessary to have a sense of safety and financial security Acting is a mystery. It’s the connection of two people and their energies. It’s an unanswerable question that he’s passio
I met a guitarist A lifetime musician At a Thai restaurant I found on Google maps He arrived at my table Before I knew anything about him And asked if it was ok to sit down He was here on tour I didn’t recognise his band
I met an Egyptian for the first time today How I have gone this long without speaking to an Egyptian, I do not know But when I heard him say that was where he was from, I was immediately curious I wondered, what’s Egyptian culture like? But I was standing in the sauna And he was speaking to someone else And so often in these sorts of situations I’d silence myself Oh well, I thought, it’s not important anyway Ask him! This little voice nagged me I can’t be bothered… Ask him! But he’s speaking to someone else Ask him! It’s been quiet for too long now, it would be weird to say something Ask him!
I never liked cats. I grew up in a dog family. My dog was a flat coated retriever. I was told I had golden retriever energy. Every other birthday card would have a dog on it. And I’d be in bits watching Marley and Me or Homeward Bound or Fox and the Hound. But last year, a new flatmate moved in with a cat. I didn’t think much of it.
I wake up at 6.30am and do some gentle stretches I have a cup of ceremonial cacao in the garden as the sun rises I walk to work through a park that feels more like a jungle I spend the day designing a school programme to help young people build emotional resilience I walk to the gym and speak to the friendly local owner As I leave, my friend shouts out to me and we decide to go for a walk together
I went to a bachata dance social tonight My knowledge of bachata is nada I was intimidated to say the least So I stuck to the side, lurking in the shadows And I struck up conversation with Angus Like the beef, he said And I thought, gosh that’s great What a way to meet
My life is grounded in nature, healing and spirituality. It’s not pink and materialistic. But I realised last week that I am Barbie. And that’s a problem. I live in a 1920s house on top of a hill overlooking the forested landscape of Wellington, New Zealand. I look out from my balcony to a backdrop of mountains that are glazed with the morning sun. A wisp of cloud cuts across the sky like a dividing line between heaven and earth.
Inner work is important but the measure of progress is how we act with others. I’m learning this as I explore a romantic connection after years of turning inward. Inwards to outwards In the early stages of my journey, I cut out external influences so I could understand who I really was. I left my home country, went on retreats, stopped using coffee, drugs and alcohol, unfollowed the news, avoided Netflix and entertainment media, and became selective about the people in my life.
Making decisions can be hard – especially big, life-changing ones. It can seem like happiness depends on choosing correctly and that regret will knock on each door that we close behind us. There’s an underlying fear of failure, of having no one else to blame. On many occasions, I’ve tried to predict how events might unfold before making a decision. I’ve thought endlessly about how I could optimise a situation. But my psychic powers have always fallen short and I’ve been left in a circling state of analysis, feeling overwhelmed and incapable of making the right call.
Love. One word to describe a million things. I use it to describe my favourite way of making eggs. And my favourite person. The way that light strikes the trees in golden hour. And the way that the breeze caresses my skin. It's everywhere, right? But how do we experience it?
I wrote this email to send to members of a mens group that I was part of. I realised that my experience as a gay man wasn’t fully understood and it was up to me to make it known. Hey everyone! In recent weeks I've been exploring what masculinity means and thought I would bring you all on the journey. Hopefully it might be of interest and provide some insight or reflection. Growing up in the closet until I was 18, I found myself wearing the identity of masculinity but not feeling comfortable in it. At it's worst, to me masculinity meant boisterousness, aggressiveness, competitiveness, bullying, banter/laddishness, racism and misogyny. At it's best it looked like fraternity, bonding, rugged
my friend and i went for coffee a lovely little spot, with an outdoor seating area the sort where green leaves arch over you and sunlight pierces through the glass ceiling (although the sun didn’t have much luck making its way through the grey clouds) we enjoyed looking around, soaking in the ambiance but patience has its limits and after ten minutes, our coffees still hadn’t arrived
No junk The sign said above the mailbox And I thought What a lovely code of honour That the person delivering junk Should decide, nay, I shall avoid this hole For the are some words scribbled above it And I must respect them
i look around and very few people look back as though children peekaboo! i can’t see you and you can’t see me yet i’m guilty of it too i sat down at this table in a cafe
stop validate yourself see yourself feel yourself no one else can it’s what you’ve been craving all along that sweet relief that moment of peace
“I’m not stressed!” I’d yell to my mum. Whenever I was revising for exams or in difficult moments in my life, I’d get eczema on my hands. It was horrible. It was unsightly and itchy and it made me so self-conscious. I’d hide my hands, dreading if I had to do activities with other kids in case they noticed. My mum took me to a food intolerance tester. We tried homeopathy, acupuncture, and avoided chemicals in cleaning products. But it didn’t go away.
Are you aware of your blind spots? You know, those parts of your identity or life that are present yet unseen. Kinda like spinach caught in your teeth that only other people can see. I was exploring this theme recently while recording my latest YouTube video about coming to terms with my queer identity. Watch it here. I realised that being gay was my first experience of a blind spot. The signs were obvious yet I told myself convincing stories to deny it. The mind is good like that.
There is a belief that has been woven into our fabric A story we’ve been told so many times we’ve taken it to be truth And, as with most beliefs, we don’t even know it’s there… 🥁 Survival of the fittest 🦖 Yes, many of us believe that it’s us against the world That we must hoard money to provide safety
There is something magical about slowing down Little moments take on much more meaning A day becomes an opera A setting is drama Rather than background noise I had the urge to light a fire today Even though the rain had cleared away And the sun shone through the window like liquid silver
How comfortable are you with the unknown? Y'know, that period of time between two stages of life. You've let go of an old shape. Perhaps an identity, a job, a relationship. But you've not yet discovered your new form. It sits beyond the horizon, bent through the haze of time. This experience is called the unbound space. Being without a shape is so unfamiliar and uncomfortable that we have the temptation to rush towards the future. We want something solid to grasp onto.
Well, we create our own reality. It’s built on a set of beliefs that make sense of the world, which otherwise would be too vast to comprehend. Rejecting a belief would mean rejecting the very reality we exist in. So we fill in the blanks that otherwise would be contradictory and disorienting. This creates an aversion to knocking against anything that rattles this flimsy architecture.
Speak from your heart. Listen to your gut. Do what feels right. These expressions point to something important. And yet for most of my life I saw them as just metaphor. They were mental concepts, rather than experiential realities. I thought ‘following my heart’ was just doing what I most wanted. Which for me meant sifting through my thoughts to find the ‘truest’ one and acting on it.
when i got home after school i would close my bedroom door and sink into the comfort of sad songs, films and books and as the sun set on my heart the glare of a screen or the glow of side lamp would keep me warm
9 months ago, I sent an email to my landlord serving 4 weeks’ notice on my apartment in Melbourne. I had no plan, except the purchase of a one-way ticket to New Zealand. What was awaiting me there? I wasn’t sure. I can only describe it as a calling, a deep intuition that this was what I needed to do. If I knew the challenges I’d face along the way, perhaps I never would have left.
Someone interviewed the top execs at AI companies to understand their motivations for perpetuating the AI race. This is what they reported back: “In the end, a lot of the tech people I talk to — when I really grill them on why they’re doing this — retreat into: 1) determinism 2) the inevitable replacement of biological life with digital life 3) this being a good thing anyways. At its core, it’s an emotional desire to meet and speak to the most intelligent entity that they’ve ever met. And they have some ego-religious intuition that they’ll somehow be a part of it.
I’ve never gone hungry for more than a few hours in my whole life. Last month, I fasted for five days. No calories. Just water. Here’s what happened… My story I had never really considered fasting until this year. One friend said that it had helped them break through some health issues. Another began intermittent fasting to manage their weight. And someone else extolled the benefits of fasting for their spiritual development.
The journey to self-love is long and winding. And when you’re in a place of self-loathing it can look like an unreachable destination. Saying an affirmation like “I am worthy of love just for being who I am” used to be cringe-inducing for me because it felt untrue. I’d fantasize about being more attractive, wealthier, and more social and believe that then I’d be happy. Then I’d love myself.
There was a part of me that knew I was an overthinker. But another part of me couldn’t comprehend being any other way. I’d always associated thinking with intelligence. After all, everything I knew about myself and the world came from my thoughts. If I were to slow down my thinking, wouldn’t I just become dumb? I also found ruminating seductive; it gave me the illusory power to prepare myself for the future and to make sense of the past. Although, in reality, this just meant that I would run through hypothetical conversations in my mind before speaking to someone and afterwards review everything I’d said – often cringing.
It took heartbreak for me to realise the trap I’d set for myself… Losing my lover meant losing love. He had become my only access to that state. My soul supply. My dealer. Somewhere along the way, I had become dependent on his affection. How do you choose, when given the option between love or honouring your boundaries? For most of my life, I would choose the former. I’d take connection over self-esteem.