Whattup buttercups you sexy little things. Cheers for being part of the Weekly Ritual Letter. This has actually become part of my ritual now, and I fucking love that. Wednesdays have become my ritual day. “On Wednesdays we wear pink” jokes lol. It’s the day I sit down with my coffee, start reflecting on the week, choose the theme, map out the meditation, the yoga pose, the breathwork, and eventually this letter. Usually by Friday it’s all ready to land in your inbox, and I honestly didn’t expect this little ritual to become such a meaningful part of my own week, but it has. Last week, 102 of you received this letter. I haven’t even checked how many it’s going out to today, but fuck yes. That’s pretty bloody cool. There’s so much that happens behind the scenes that never really makes it onto social media. And by the way, I’m on all of it, so go follow me everywhere and help a girl out. But I realised this week that there’s a huge difference between what people see and what I’m actually living. The energy I want to bring online is positivity. Realness too, absolutely, but I also want people to see what’s possible. This week I shared a couple of vulnerable posts, and what nobody really saw was how much I didn’t want to post them. Not because I don’t want to be honest, but because language is my superpower. I could tell a thousand different stories from one single experience. I could teach ten different lessons from the exact same moment. Sometimes the hardest part is choosing which story to tell. The truth behind the scenes is that I’ve been highly anxious. I’m somewhere inside a bit of a meltdown. It feels like a dark night of the soul. I’m in the goo inside the cocoon where everything feels messy and uncomfortable, and the most frustrating part is that there isn’t actually anything I can do to speed it up. Then I remember…everything was completely fucked before I bought this property too, and somehow the money appeared. Somehow the opportunity appeared. Somehow life unfolded in ways I couldn’t predict. So I know this chapter will resolve itself as well. I just don’t get to choose the timing. And because I’m probably too self aware for my own good, I keep laughing at myself thinking, “Mate… it’s winter. You’re probably going to have to wait until bloody spring.”