29/05/2026
This week has felt quieter.
Cave-like
Cocooning
And instead of rushing to fill the space, I’ve allowed myself to embrace it.
This wasn’t always my go-to. There was a time when quieter weeks would have immediately activated panic in me.
A need to push.
Produce.
Keep things moving.
I think part of me learned very early that usefulness and productivity were tied to safety somehow.
But I’m slowly learning that not every season is meant for outward movement.
And perhaps there’s something about midlife in this too.
The body eventually asks different things of us.
Different rhythms.
Different pacing.
Different ways of measuring worth.
And after years of stretching, the recent spaciousness has quietly become a gift.
I’ve worked on my website.
Written poetry.
Made art again.
Returned to things that nourish a deeper part of me.
Some things only take shape in the dark.
Sometimes the cocoon isn’t a pause in the becoming.
It is the becoming.