As I watch my little goddess grow, I get reminded that we’re not born body-conscious.
My 15 month old is fully connected with her body, mind and soul and spends exactly zero time making judgements of herself.
She smiles when she sees her reflection in the mirror, she gets excited when she discovers her body can master a new movement and she stops eating when she’s full, while passing no judgement on what she’s eating.
Every day I reflect on my role as a mother. It’s not something I ever take for granted or think I have handled.
In fact, the more my little goddess grows up, the more I realise that my job is less about being a mother (as we commonly understand the role), parent my child from top down and be a teacher.
Communication is the essence of life.
What we speak and communicate over, gets created. Relationships, milestones, experiences, connections. Excitement and disappointment. Love and resentment.
Words and language give shape to our world.
Permission has been this year’s strongest theme for me.
I started looking into its different facets and how they play out in my life. The discoveries have been nothing short of amazing.
Permission, self-permission that is, or lack thereof, is at the root of many projects sitting in my invisible, but carefully compartmentalised, overanalysed creative drawers. Of countless, unnecessary hours of obsessive housework. Of dreams postponed. Messages unanswered. Steps not taken.
