January is loud. Everyone seems to have a plan, a vision, a glow-up timeline. Meanwhile, I’m sitting with a cup of tea, watching the trees rest, wondering why we expect ourselves to bloom on command.

This is a reflection from the space between endings and beginnings — about pressure, self-trust, and what it means to build a life without forcing clarity before it arrives.

What happens when you show up to create every day for a month — not to go viral, but to recover your creativity? This essay shares what Vlogtober taught me about fear, perfectionism, and finding peace

Every October teaches me how to let go. This year, it’s fear I’m shedding — fear of not being enough, of being judged, of wanting too much. Because joy, I’m learning, doesn’t come from certainty. It comes from trying.

By society’s standards, I’m a loser — unemployed, living at home, writing from the same bedroom I grew up in. For a long time, I carried the weight of that label like proof I’d fallen behind. But the truth? Living at home became the foundation for everything beautiful, brave, and free about my life. This Tiny Rebellion is about redefining what “making it” really means — and learning that sometimes, coming home is the most radical move of all.

The cold sea licks at my feet, and I ache with yearning—for a cottage by the sea, for salt air and harbor walks. But yearning is not absence; it’s an invitation to live the dream life in the figs already ripe before us.

We’ve been taught to chase a dream life always out of reach—moving the goalpost, climbing the ladder, never quite arriving. But what if the real trap isn’t that we’re behind, but that we’ve bought into the promise itself? In this essay, I explore how to step off the treadmill of striving and name the ordinary moments—coffee in your pajamas, tending the garden—as the dream life already unfolding. With a simple practice I call the Enough Audit, you’ll learn how to notice, honor, and nurture what’s here right now.

August has been a practice in slowing down — shaping my days around rituals, cozy recipes, and small joys. This month’s Harvest gathers the grounding habits, tiny luxuries, and moments of presence that carried me through late summer. Think of it as a little care package from my garden to yours.