01/04/2026
March 🌱
I’d seen it before it arrived. The kind of knowing that lives below thought, below language. The kind that comes when you’ve learned to trust the peace in your heart and the land beneath your feet more than the noise above it.
Prayer thickened the air. Peace settled. Peace that asked nothing of you but presence. The whole country felt it. Even the ones who don’t believe, believed in something.
When the skies moved the ground, that peace didn’t shatter. It went deeper. It became mine. Not borrowed or reflected. Mine. Earned. Embodied. The quiet acceptance of what will be, will be. And the equal acceptance of what won’t.
That is not surrender. That is the truest kind of strength I know.
The media had its version of events. Maybe we all did. We all look at the same sky and see different storms. It doesn’t matter. It never really did.
Then the rain came. Weeks of it. The land remembered something. And so did I.
It stripped things back to what’s real. To the quiet intelligence of the natural world that was never confused, never performing, never waiting for permission to be.
Slowing down further. To sit with family, friends, animals, nature and creativity with the utter peaceful silence of rain.
More grief arrived. Another small spirt left. One I guided home, though I know now he was already asking to leave. An ending that arrived without warning. The weight of holding loss while life keeps moving around you, indifferent, extraordinary. His expiry giving way for more. Whispers of not yet. There is more, much more to do.
Not more to endure, but more to give. More to be, more to discover in the quiet that only arrives when you’re ready to see it.
A month that felt longer than a month. No escape. No answers. Just honesty. The slow uncomfortable liberating process of becoming more real. More rooted, more at peace and more yourself. The version that exists when no one is watching, when the rain is falling, when you touch death, when the ground shakes and you discover that the thing keeping you standing was always you.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.