Quarter of a Century

This past week, I celebrated my 25th birthday.

No party, no champagne, no elaborate plans in a foreign country where I had once envisioned myself roaming, exploring, getting lost in adventure.

Instead, it was peaceful. Introspective. And, in many ways, far more necessary. Far more meaningful. It left me feeling content, deeply grateful, and blessed beyond words.

I woke up feeling calm.

So far, life has taught me and offered me so much—extraordinary moments, unexpected lessons, people who have left an imprint on my heart.

I am grateful for all that has been. For the love I am learning to feel for the person I am growing into. For all the adventures still waiting to unfold.

I am still learning to trust the process. Still growing.

But one thing I feel I am finally beginning to understand—or at least embrace—is uncertainty.

If you acknowledge your ability to tap into something greater than fear—such as courage—and use it as a guide, you will bloom.

Spending the day entirely alone, I experienced the tranquility of silence. I want to always remember that stillness is something I can return to at any moment. That I can step away. That I can pause.

Looking back, I realise it has been in these moments of stillness, standing amidst the chaos, that I have made my most important discoveries. When I have quieted the noise long enough to hear my inner voice. My inner compass. Telling me what I need. Where I should go. What to say—or when to say nothing at all.

Iain Thomas once wrote:

"Every day, the world will drag you by the hand, shouting, ‘This is important! And this! And you need to worry about this and this and this!’ But each day, it is up to you to pull your hand back, place it over your heart, and say, ‘No. This is what’s important.’"

Sometimes, it arrives as a whisper. Other times, as a nudge, a gut feeling. And sometimes, it is a brutal, in-your-face shove.

But trust it. Listen to it.

We often search for an external crystal ball to give us direction, but I believe part of the magic of being human is learning to surrender to the mystery.

Try not to be so hard on yourself. (Something I have been told my entire life, and something I am still working on.)

Life is constantly giving us the exact circumstances we need for growth. If we fail to learn the lesson, it circles back—wearing a different face—until we do.

So I have realised there is no use in resisting change, no point in running from life.

I have realised that to be more alive, I have to be less afraid.

And I have been.

I look back at my past selves, at the moments when I shed my fear and gained my whole life instead.

It does not happen in a single moment, and it does not happen just once. Life will ask me to surrender my fear again and again. And each time, I will gain my whole life, again and again.

Some days, it feels as though I have lived many lives in one. Some days, I feel fragile, lost, uncertain.

And some days—like today—I feel like I am exactly the age I should be. And it is beautiful.

I try to learn through curiosity. To honour my deep empathy.

To understand that every person is navigating their own human experience, and that the only thing we can control is our own response to life.

To know that energy, love, and support are boundless, offered freely by the universe, by the earth, by the collective. That they are available to us at any time—if we only choose to tap into them.

To understand that no one owes me anything, and that I owe nothing in return. That we are all here to help each other in our own individual ways. That we see ourselves reflected in one another.

That we are all just walking each other home.

We can hold hands. We can heal, through vulnerability.

To let go of expectation and judgement. To see through multiple perspectives.

To know my yes’s and no’s—and to voice them when they arise.

To appreciate all forms of expression, without defining them by how I think they should look.

To surround myself with those who support me in following my heart. Who offer a safe place to rest my mind. Who hold space for my secrets.

To surrender to the unknown. To release what I cannot control.

To love every part of myself. Because within us all, there are pieces of everything.

We are the full spectrum of emotion, of colour, of shifting tides.

We are the duality of day and night. The balance of bitter and sweet. The phases of the moon. The collapse and rebirth of the cosmos.

We are the swirling constellations, the intricate threads of nature’s web.

We are the melodies of birdsong. The thunder of orchestras.

And we are meant to love every single part of that.

To learn to embrace it all. To be, unapologetically.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge anyone reading this. To acknowledge your experience. To acknowledge that life is not always easy.

But everything that happens is meant for you—meant for your path, for your growth, for your highest good. If you choose it.

And you are not, nor will you ever be, alone.

In the end—

If you practice being gentle. If you look at the world with love and release your expectations.

If you learn both to be and to let be.

If you can feel rich without possession.

Then the whole world becomes yours.

Here’s to twenty-five. To new cycles, new chapters.

Here’s to change.

And to remembering that nothing is ever truly an end—because it can always be the foundation for something new.

"Leave the familiar for a while. Let your senses and bodies stretch out, like a welcomed season, onto the meadows and shores and hills.
Open up to the Roof. Make a new watermark on your excitement and love.
Like a blooming night flower, bestow your vital fragrance of happiness and giving upon our intimate assembly.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
All the hemispheres in existence lie beside an equator in your heart.
Greet Yourself in your thousand other forms as you mount the hidden tide and travel back home.
All the hemispheres in the heaven are sitting around a fire chatting, while stitching themselves together into the Great Circle inside of You."

– 'All the Hemispheres' by Hafiz