Entries from decades of journaling have finally made it to the digital vortex. (Yes — I will find any way to make ka$sh muney). Apologies in advance for the ‘it’s giving she just came back from an Ayahuasca healing retreat in Peru”. Any (brave) living, breathing mammifer who’s interacted with me knows I have a proclivity for melodramaturgy and cuckoo “how many Adderall is she on” ponderations well into the late hours of the night. After 28 years stuck in my own head, it dawned on me all the ruminations, epic trepidations, larger-than-life aspirations, quarterly spiralling-inducing existential crises, spiritual epiphanies, creative eurêkas, fleeting slices-of-life so inebriating time suspends, ephemeral windows of bliss you carry forever in the vault of a lifetime of cherished memories.. all those thoughts, realisation, life-defining kaïros don’t matter if you don’t put them out there in the material world. Material world gives it substance. With each passing year, I grew wiser (minus the occasional “am I meant to be growing coconuts in Fiji ?” nocturnal revelations). I became more (unapologetically) authentic, with a clearer sense of who I am, what my purpose(s) is, and more grounded in my countless identities, beliefs and experiences — as ever shifting those “inner” foundations. I have always prided myself in being authentic, genuine and sincere in any endeavour I undertake, always coming from a place of sentimentality, optimism and connection. But evolution and progress are the only perennial constant, and the way I envision and embody Life: there is always scope for change, growth and transformation. Rarely did anyone ever gain courage, imagination, nuance or dimension by playing it safe. Less perfectionism, rather forever improving into oblivion and exploring the boundless possibilities of What more can be achieved and Who I can be. Embracing that inner child with compassion and honouring her presence, tapping into the healing essence of our authentic selves. This book reflects my conscious choice to be even more present in my discipline. To remember and be grateful for those unique (and endless) versions of myself. To cherish my gifts and pass them on. Use every living second bathing myself in those gifts. Make it an obsession. To me, that process means eternally moving my hand across the metaphorical (and literal) canvas of life: drawing, writing, putting those cameras to good use and stringing together life-scenes into nostalgic visual and auditory time capsules, sharing those all-time (brings-you-to-your-knees type) playlists. More time connecting with the ocean, wind in my hair sand in my toes walking barefoot, sunbathing and bird-watching. Love-making, cold pond dips. Never too many oat flat whites. Soulful food. Embracing my punk sk8ter boi alter ego. Lots of failing, asking questions, learning — new ways of seeing, doing, being. “Waste” time at the museum. Good films, good books. Conversations that take you far away. Thoughtful, subtle, affectionate, personal gestures. Applying my creative gifts for inclusive work that empowers the invisible and shine a light on their stories. Championing diversity and celebrating the value in each one of us. Deepening empathy, nurturing humility, sharing with others — unlimited souls give selflessly. Playfulness. Quick-witted humour. I hope to leave behind an impact on others (as little as it may be), a trace of my passage, and a body of labour that stands as a 3D scrapbook of my life. A book that depicts, in its own eclectic decor, the numerous ways humans throw our bold enthusiasm and existential angst in all directions as we wrestle with Who we are, as we navigate from one experiment to another (I have dabbled in so many things I am the human equivalent of AliExpress). More importantly, I have dreamt of a collection of thoughts that opens a door into my inner garden — the culmination of experiences I tallied, observations, feelings, sensations. There is no greater euphoric joy than sharing a piece of Self and finding out that someone — as radically different as they may be from you — gets you, the way you see the world, in all your weird quirks and folly. It’s like finding out, after all this time, you were not mad after all. The book (hopes) to stand as a testament to those people, a glimpse into those few stars that upheaval the pandemonium of your existence, a fragment of present and vanished souls — each cheerful, complex, frivolous, bold and unforgettable all at the same time. An ode to those trips, encounters at the last unexplored frontiers, that catapult you into new stratospheric levels of consciousness, reinvigorate your essence and vitality. We are made of the people and places we love, nothing else. Every heart sings a song, incomplete until another heart whispers back. However reclusive our lives might feel at times, adrift in hills seared with wind, life is never closer than in a cluster of beloved faces and places, in the thoughts that go out to them, in the breath that travels from them to us, from us to them. Love, Joy, Grief — Repeat. The book is a poetic elegy to those people, places and moments that leave an indelible mark. An invitation to place a phone call into the past, without getting untangled in the unruly weeds of regrets and the swirling thoughts that accompany them, but focusing on the blooming flowers. Nothing has shaped my life around living and who and what matters most to me more than the reality of how short it all is. And how much I want to be Me while there is still time. I wrote most of these poems during travel peregrinations across Africa and sailing around the South Pacific. Most of the time writing while daydreaming and mind-escaping to timeless tunes from early 2000’s emo pinnacle days: Black Tie Dynasty, Jimmy Buffet, Tom Petty, Air, Fleet Foxes, Big Red Machine, Air, Night Works…(never not using a chance to promote my elite Spotify playlists). To believe in writing from a first-person perspective is not just believing in my own first person, it’s also believing in the richness of anybody’s subjectivity. I love creating, exploring, discovering. Feeling that tingle of fear and excitement when at crossroads or the start of a new project but I paddle over the ledge of uncertainty anyway. To live for the unexpected. You can’t move forward without understanding where you’ve come from. I hope these thoughts on paper inspire you to listen to your intuition, lean into your belief, and lead a life that honours those memories, stories and wonder that bind us together. Sign up to discover human stories that deepen your understanding of the world. 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