It's the first day of January 2025, and I've decided. I make the commitment that I'll write every single day of this year. And I will publish each day.
It makes me feel good, and I feel a sense of relief that I've decided to write. The dam has been released and I've committed to doing it. I don't know what I've been waiting for but I've decided that it's no longer time to wait for the perfect moment, and it's no longer time to wait until all the stars align. The stars align now. I have many stories to tell and the right time is now. It always is.
It was a feeling that I felt as I walked along the path next to the Berowra creek. I just decided. I decided to stop waiting for the right time, stop waiting for the perfect conditions and decide that right now is as good a time as any to decide that it's time.
It doesn't matter if it's not profound and it doesn't matter if the words aren't exactly perfect because perfect is just an illusion. It's just an excuse to slow me down to stop me from doing something that I promised that I would do. That I know that I have to do. My voice must be sounded and I must speak my truth. It's not about getting back at anyone but it is about letting out that which is inside.
There's plenty inside and my heart yearns to release it. I feel the dread of doing the same thing again that I've been always doing. That's because I'm denying the voice that I really want to come out of me.
I’m waiting for a coffee on a Saturday morning, standing next to the counter in a suburban shopping centre. Around the corner comes a Mum with three spirited children. The impact of the small family on the shopping centre energy is palpable. The children are full of life, and the mother has her hands full as the little troupe, aged five, four and three, I estimate, engage with everything with energetic gusto. ‘No running’, Mum says to Mr 4, as a four-year-old energetic boy goes tearing past me. Mum turns around to see the three-year-old walking slowly behind. ‘Come on’, she says to Mr 3, coaxing the littlest one to quicken his pace. Distracted from the older members of the troupe for a few short moments, Mum turns around and sees Mr 4 doing a cool breakdance style handstand in the middle of the shopping centre floor. ‘No handstands’, Mum says. She does not see the coolness in Mr 4’s handstand. Mr 3, however, is visibly impressed and cannot resist the call of acr...
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