40 articles

I want to tell you about two things that happened to me recently. By any objective measure, neither of them is remarkable. One involved a car. The other involved chewing gum.

I have lost count of how many people have told me they can't meditate. Sometimes they say it with a kind of proud resignation, I've tried, I'm just not that kind of person. Sometimes, with a frustration that suggests they genuinely wanted it to work. Sometimes with a faint embarrassment, as though they've failed at something that seems to come easily to everyone else.

Words & Contemplations starts her podcast journey, bringing you blogs in audio format as well as meditations, gentle practices and talks. Come along for the journey; we'd love to have you tune in.

What happens when the dust settles after eleven months of wandering? After living out of a single suitcase and a "long list of hell yes's" alongside an even longer list of "no’s," you eventually find yourself standing in the quiet of what used to be your life.

This isn’t a fitness routine. It isn’t a fad diet, calorie counting, or a 30-day reset. It’s something quieter, deeper, and far more sustainable. It’s a relationship. A relationship with your body, built on understanding rather than control.

I’ve always believed that self-inquiry can be a portal. Sometimes that portal is meditation. Sometimes it’s heartbreak. Sometimes it’s travel, long and lonely and bewildering. But recently, it came in the form of something unexpected:Running my astrological birth chart and my human design through ChatGPT.

We all carry stories that feel so familiar they might as well be our own voice — the subtle doubts, the quiet assumptions, the emotional reactions that rise before we even have a chance to choose differently. In the yogic tradition, these inherited imprints are known as samskāras: subliminal impressions carved into us through repetition, experience and unexamined memory.

There are moments in life when you realise that what you are reacting to is not the situation in front of you, but the echo of something much older.A familiar sting.A tightening in the chest.A story your body remembers even if your mind has forgotten its origin.

A reflection on wellness, wholeness, and the quiet lessons that keep arriving. Your thirties are a middle ground, old enough to know better, young enough to still test the edges. Somewhere between who you thought you’d be and who you’re becoming, life starts to whisper its truths. This is the decade when awareness deepens, priorities shift, and the surface begins to crack in the best possible way.

Sometimes, stepping away from everything you know is the only way to truly see it.We all have places we’ve outgrown, or thought we had. The home that once felt heavy, the routine that seemed suffocating, the four walls that turned into a mirror for our restlessness. But what if it wasn’t the place holding you back? What if it was what you carried inside it?

We spend much of our lives replaying the past, thoughts become familiar, feelings become habitual, and the body begins to live in cycles of memory. What feels like “just the way things are” is often simply a loop of remembered emotions.

There comes a time when we begin to notice that the patterns repeating in our lives are not coincidences; they are mirrors. The way we love, react, protect ourselves, and withdraw often stems from stories we didn’t consciously choose. They are scripts written by earlier versions of ourselves, shaped by our experiences, emotions, and beliefs.

We often speak of love as something we either have or don’t, something we fall into or out of. Yet few of us pause long enough to consider its deeper purpose. What if love is not the destination, but the lesson itself?

There are people in our lives who remind us to play; the ones who make you want to cartwheel on the beach, run along the sand, or balance, laughing, in a rock pool in warrior three. On my Koh Samui retreat, there was one such person: Bronte.

There are moments in life when we meet people who feel like mirrors. All the qualities we long to recognise in ourselves appear so effortlessly in them. And then, as you spend time together, you realise something extraordinary: what you see in them is what they see in you. The connection becomes something rare and beautiful — a space where you bring out the best in one another, even though just days before you were strangers.

Yoga has always been more than movement. Long before it became a practice of postures, it was described in the ancient texts as a complete framework for living with steadiness and clarity. The Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali remind us: “Yoga is the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind.” (Yoga Sūtras I.2)

Yoga is often thought of as postures on a mat or quiet studio time. Yet the ancient texts describe it far more broadly, as a framework for cultivating steadiness, awareness, and presence in every aspect of life. The Yoga Sūtras tell us:

In times past, people could retreat into caves or forests in search of clarity, stepping away from the noise until answers arrived in silence. Today, life feels far less simple. We are constantly pulled in different directions, with advice, expectations, and ideas about wellness and success coming at us from all sides. Each day presents countless small choices: what to eat, how to spend our time, who we spend it with, and even how we speak up for ourselves. Learning to say no with kindness and without guilt is not just about the big decisions; it’s about honouring these small choices, nurturing self-respect, and creating balance in everyday life.

Wellness is often spoken of as a set of practices or a checklist of what we should do, but in truth, it is far more subtle, far more intimate than that. It is the quiet tending to our inner landscapes, the noticing of our energy, our thoughts, our relationships, and the spaces we inhabit. In the first part of this exploration, we wandered through the many dimensions of wellness—physical, emotional, social, spiritual, and beyond. In this continuation, we move from awareness into gentle application. How do we invite these dimensions to speak to us in our everyday lives? How do we bring wellness into the rhythms of our days without it feeling like another task to complete?

I have been practising yoga for about eight years and teaching for the past eighteen months. When I finally felt it was my time to guide others along the yogic journey, I also knew that my own practice was far from finished. My curiosity and hunger for growth led me to immerse myself in three Moksha Yoga Teacher Trainings. After completing my 200-hour training in Bali in January 2024, I continued with a 110-hour Meditation Teacher training, and then dove into Yin and Sound Medicine simultaneously.

There are places in the world that make you feel whole, grounded, and deeply nourished, and there are places that quietly take from you, chipping away at the equilibrium you’ve worked to cultivate. It can feel as though the culture of a place seeps through your skin, shaping your energy and attitude before you’ve even noticed.

There’s something quietly profound, and often overlooked, about the boundaries and standards that shape our lives. Not always the ones we consciously set, but those gently handed down to us by the people and spaces we inhabit. Whether in work, friendships, family, or romantic relationships, these invisible lines quietly frame what feels possible, what we believe we deserve, and ultimately, how we see ourselves.

Yes, I’ve been to some incredible places over the last few months. But what I’ve realised is that when you don’t have a “home” to go back to, or more importantly, no clear end date, even the most remarkable experiences begin to feel… normal. And normal, when stretched too long, loses its magic.

A journey inward to awareness, stillness and freedom. Some books arrive like whispers. Others arrive as gifts. For me, The Untethered Soul was both.

Home has been in flux for me lately. With travel comes the idea that I’m a nomad, that I can become comfortable wherever I lay my head. And to some extent, it’s true. I open a suitcase, light some incense, set up a playlist, and move on my yoga mat, and I feel grounded. A sense of home lives in these rituals.

A Return to Self, Through Movement and Community. It’s been six wonderful weeks of daily practice at Alchemy Yoga & Meditation Centre in Ubud. Six weeks of breath, sweat, stillness, and subtle transformation. We chose this space instinctively, drawn back by the magic of the Alchemy café, which we first fell in love with eight years ago. The yoga studio felt like a natural extension of that same energy: nourishing, grounded, and open-hearted.

Today, as we stepped out of the beautiful, sun-warmed space that is Alchemy in Ubud for the final time, we were handed a goodbye gift. Completely unexpected. Entirely unnecessary.

We left Bali today after two wonderful months of getting to know ourselves again. That might sound odd, but when you’ve lived in survival mode for so long, it’s impossible to know who you are beneath the armour—armour that’s protected you from chaos, but also from truth. Truth like: you were ticking boxes, going through motions, cohabiting with someone who was quietly slipping into sadness. And truthfully, the silence about that sadness made it hard to distinguish what was "normal" from what was drowning.

While in Ubud, I’ve been trying to open myself to everything this place offers. There’s a current of possibility here, pulsing quietly beneath the surface. After experiencing the depths of sound healing—something I’ve done before and always found moving—I felt curious to take it one step further.

In a world that constantly demands our attention—from deadlines and devices to the never-ending to-do lists—it’s easy to drift away from ourselves. But coming home to yourself doesn’t require a retreat or a spa day. (Although you should do these things too.) Sometimes, it doesn’t need to cost anything. Sometimes, it’s about the smallest gestures—things we can do right now, wherever we are, to re-centre, ground, and feel more us again.

Yesterday, I attended a Balinese purification and blessing ceremony with Tri Desna in Ubud. While the full impact of letting go may take days, even weeks, today, I feel lighter. Rested. Unburdened. Even in the midst of a gap year—a time meant for freedom and exploration—I had unknowingly packed emotional baggage alongside my travel essentials. We all do.

Bali has a way of calling to the soul, whispering through the rustling palms and the rhythmic crash of waves. It has become one of the most recognised destinations for yoga in the world, drawing seekers from all walks of life to its lush landscapes, sacred temples, and serene retreats. But what is it about this Indonesian island that makes it such a magnet for yogis? The answer lies in a powerful combination of culture, spirituality, and natural beauty.

The first week of stepping away from a structured career into the unknown is filled with reflection. This gap year isn’t just a vacation—it’s the beginning of a deliberate shift toward living more fully, exploring new ways of being, and embracing the freedom that comes with uncertainty. It’s about letting go of the rigid structures that have defined my identity for years and stepping into a life designed around passion, purpose, and presence.

The first week of my adult gap year has arrived, and with it, a sense of liberation I never knew I needed. I sit quietly in a hotel, my entire life packed into a 3x3 box. Why do things hold such meaning for us? We save up, we buy, we collect, we part with them—yet in the end, isn’t it the people, the experiences, and the moments that define our true sense of home?

Solheimajokull is one of Iceland’s most accessible and visually stunning glaciers, making it a must-see for anyone visiting the South Coast. With its ice formations, deep crevasses, and proximity to iconic attractions like Skogafoss and Reynisfjara, Solheimajokull offers a unique opportunity to experience Iceland’s raw natural beauty up close. Here’s everything you need to know to make the most of your visit.

An adult gap year is a chance to step away from your day-to-day life and embrace everything you wished you'd done before university or entering the workforce—except now, you have the benefit of experience, wisdom, and (hopefully) some savings on your side.

As I move through what seemed in the moment to be one of the most challenging yet eye-opening experiences of myself to date, I realise that it is not that this challenge is any better or worse than any that preceded it; it is me who has altered the way that I feel it, witness it and let it control me. I feel awake, even brought alive by this challenge, more so than ever before. I realise that the challenge will soon be irrelevant and that all that has happened was always going to. All that was in my control was my choice of how to let it affect me, how I chose to respond, and how I wanted to be perceived, remembered and heard. There is true power in choice, awareness and understanding.

Finding trust in yourself so that you can trust the journey you are on. Choosing to believe that not to know that what is happening at any given time is ok it’s part of the process. It's all part of what will one day make up your story. The right here, right now can feel heavy, uncomfortable or painful but it is temporary. It will pass. You cannot feel the depths of every experience if it is only the fear you let in. What if you were to explore beyond the fear? Beyond the pain, there will be a message, a lesson or something stuck that you have yet to explore. Without delving into what it means, you are missing the lessons your life tries to show you. The parts of you that will make you all you know inside you already are. The parts of you that you long to share and be at ease with, the raw the vulnerable, the real you. Moving through the pain, into understanding is how you find freedom in letting go.

Living a wholesome life with good stable mental health is what we all dream of, isn’t it? Why is it that when you google wellness or well-being you are met with long-form complicated articles, fluffy images with soft pink colours or centres for massage and facial treatments? It’s no wonder we all seem so confused.

As Melbourne - the city in which I live goes into its fifth lockdown it forces us to once again take stock of our surroundings. If time is the only positive side effect of these lockdowns. What do you want to do with yours? Could time be a gift, an opportunity or is it simply a waste?