On the search that keeps you circling, and what happens when you stop I injured my right hand a little while ago, which meant I could not write with it. Around the same time I interviewed a woman who suggested I try writing with my left. Not as a workaround. As a practice. She talked about it the way you might talk about a door, and given that my dominant hand was out of action anyway, the timing felt almost arranged. So I sat down and wrote with my left hand, slowly, badly.

On meaning, burnout, and what a conversation with a dear friend, Rumi, Viktor Frankl, and a mosquito at 3am taught me about purpose.

We often swing between feeling powerless and secretly blaming ourselves for everything. This piece explores a softer middle path of empowered responsibility where you honour what is truly yours, hand back what is not, and begin to co create your life with more clarity, love and inner trust.