40 things I know to be true

Thoughts distilled from a decade

Another turn around the sun.

A time for reflection, and for recognition of what a privilege it is to live. To breathe. To be here at all.

While I don’t place much significance on milestone birthdays—the pressure, I think—I did want to escape to someplace memorable. Immerse myself in woodland wanders and riverside rambles. Glen Dye, an estate nestled in the Scottish Highlands, promises just that. So, we cooried up in a cottage in the wilderness, looking onto the banks of the River Dye.

On the morning of my 40th birthday, we made for the coast, the drive leaving my stomach in knots after being relegated to the backseat. But as I stood on the pebble-strewn beach of Stonehaven, face tilted towards a patchy sky above a choppy sea, I untangled. The sun cut through the winter chill, warming my cheeks as I inhaled the sharp, salt air.

I turned to look at Lowen’s tiny face, wide-eyed with wonder, as he took in the swell of the waves. This was his first trip to the seaside. Nearby, Cora gathered treasures, comparing the sharp edges of stones with the smooth curves of pebbles, likening some to crystals and fossils. She scavenged until she found the perfect gem, which, she excitedly told me and her daddy, looked like a heart! Or a bum if you turned it the other way.

The last night in Glen Dye brought snowfall, and Cora was determined to have another dip in the hot tub. Jonathan fired it up as we got on with the job of making hot chocolates with marshmallows, popping our bikinis and woolly hats on, and sinking into the warm tub as a flurry of white fell around us.

Connecting deeply with nature and its rhythms reminds me of what life is about. Despite the meltdowns and the tantrums—to be expected with a 9-month-old and 9-year-old—my senses were still awakened to everyday magic. And the gift of being able to pause. To notice.

Arriving home the next day, I found myself unpacking not just our luggage but my thoughts. Because this year also marks the leaving behind of a decade—laced with loss—that taught me the capacity of the heart to heal.

It’s this, I think, that helps me acknowledge and appreciate the richness of the tiny instants, no matter how insignificant they may seem.

40 reminders

Today I’m grounded myself in the here and now with 40 reminders—thoughts distilled from 10 years of being levelled and lifted through notes and words.

Growth + change

1. Life is light and shade.

2. Ageing is a gift of unparalleled wisdom and wonder.

3. You can move forward in your own time and at your own pace.

4. Change is both inevitable and beautiful. Embrace it with grit and grace.

5. It’s your job to manage your capacity and protect your boundaries. When we honour our space, others tend to respect it, too.

6. Giving yourself the freedom to daydream can help you cultivate a sense of curiosity without the pressure of productivity.

7. Actions might fade from memory, but how we make others feel will leave an indelible mark.

8. ‘No’ is a valuable word to have in your vocabulary.

Creation + writing

1. Creativity waxes and wanes and evolves from one season to the next.

2. Your life experiences and perspectives matter, and your stories are needed.

3. Returning to any creative endeavour after a hiatus can rouse feelings of comparison.

4. When we write about what matters to us, our enthusiasm and ingenuity can guide the reader through any story we tell.

5. There’s as much power in what we leave off the page as we choose to keep. Something about the act of shedding feels expansive. Healing, almost.

6. When we approach opportunities with a playful mindset, free from pressure, it can lead to a greater sense of possibility.

7. Collaboration is a vibrant energy exchange that allows us to elevate one another. When one of us grows, we all do.

8. There is so much value in ideating, noticing and playing before we bring our ideas to life.

Nature + freedom

1. Water is healing. It shifts and shapes the land, and I believe it can shift and shape us, too.

2. The small things that soothe us and bring a sense of order or ritual to our days matter more than we know.

3. Knowing we have the freedom to change our minds and try new things can make room for even better ideas to emerge.

4. Solitude is often mistaken for loneliness or isolation. But it's neither lonely nor isolating; it creates fertile ground where curiosity can thrive.

5. The child who asks, "But why?" wishes to understand more and is always keen to dig deep to uncover new things and explore new ideas.

6. Small and seemingly insignificant things can spark the most amount of magic.

7. Channelling childlike energy and enthusiasm can serve us in endless ways.

8. Curiosity can make for a richer and fuller life.

Love + grief

1. No, everything does not happen for a reason.

2. Write the postcard, write the letter, write the note.

3. To quote Jamie Anderson, “Grief is just love with no place to go.” And I believe that, over time, we can give the grief an outlet through talking and writing.

4. The nature of our existence is impermanent. When we’ve lived through loss, we learn to appreciate those life minutes.

5. Don’t wait for others to romance you. Romance yourself. Buy the flowers, light the candle, and watch the movie.

6. Pay attention when you get butterflies in your tummy. It’s your body’s way of telling you something important.

7. Glimmers are fleeting, but in my experience, they carry hope, healing and happiness in abundance.

8. Stay true to yourself and avoid changing for others. It’s a fast track to losing your essence.

Success + failure

1. Belonging, community, and fulfilment are more sensible measures of success than any metric.

2. Precision and perfection are at their loudest when we’re about to do something different, daunting, and daring.

3. What looks or feels like rejection is often a course correct—a little whisper telling you, “Not this way, but that way.”

4. Be careful of who you share your dreams and plans with, for they could lose energy and momentum if prematurely unveiled.

5. There can, however, be value in saying some things out loud. After all, there’s nothing quite like sharing our aspirations and intentions in return for accountability and encouragement.

6. There will be times when we feel a little lost, a little small and a little less than. And that’s okay. They won’t last.

7. Some of our best work will emerge from fallow stretches.

8. We have the power to shape our own story.

The title for this post is inspired by Things I Know to be True, a tender play about family and feelings, secrets and struggles, and truths and tragedy. The production captures a slice of life, mirrors our own stories, and teaches us that we can draw strength from the most unexpected of places.

The soundtrack was composed by Nils Frahm, and my favourite song, Keep, the first track from his album Felt, beautifully captures the themes of the play, I think.

As I cross this threshold into the next decade, I'm reminded that shaping a life, in all its momentary beauty, means accepting and honouring the good and the bad, the happy and the sad.

And I live this life for my first son, Harris, because he never got a chance at life at all.

Letting go is hard. But, look closely. You’ll find something to hold onto.

What do you know to be true?

As a free subscriber, you can enjoy articles and essays exploring the rhythms of our creative lives and work, written through the lenses of curiosity, creativity, and connection.

If you’re ready to craft a brand that feels like home and access exclusive insights and resources, consider upgrading to join my Brand Seasons paid community. Here, I support you with a gentle, nurturing, and playful approach to brand strategy, styling, and storytelling. I’d love to welcome you!