The Pull

On my morning walk with my hound, beneath the overwhelming heat of this Grecian island, I found an unexpected peace. Music moved softly through my headphones while the trees offered their quiet companionship, and the dusty footpath beneath my feet began to feel like a threshold, a new way of living.

Ahead, in the distance, stood my cottage: crooked little walls, a weathered wooden-beam roof, imperfect and entirely beautiful. It had become my safe haven. A place where perfection was no longer required.

Yet the pull remained.

The urge to check social media still surfaced, subtle but persistent. I had chosen to step away from it all, to turn from the constant projections drifting through the digital ether and return to what my soul had been quietly asking of me. But any addiction, however ordinary it may appear, is difficult to release. The hand remembers the habit long after the heart has chosen another path.

When I removed myself from those endless streams of images, opinions and carefully constructed lives, I began to notice something. I had been searching for signs everywhere ; looking through screens for confirmation, validation and meaning, when all along I only needed to look up and around me.

At the sky.

At the sea.

At the vast and breathing cosmos around me.

All I had to do was become still enough to listen.

Whether I will ever return to those pages of digital entertainment remains to be seen. For now, the absence has been liberating. My days have become fuller, not because I am doing more for the sake of doing, but because my attention has returned to me. I no longer feel quite so vulnerable to the invisible chains that once limited my expansion.

This is not the first time I have tried to cleanse my life. I have removed possessions from my home, released things I no longer needed, and experimented with fasting and other forms of spiritual discipline. Not every attempt brought the transformation I had imagined, but each one revealed something essential. Each stripping away brought me closer to understanding who I am, and what I truly need for a peaceful life.

I realised that the desire for validation is deeply human. We all want to be seen, understood, chosen. Yet when that need becomes the compass by which we navigate our lives, it can become a ball and chain.

In the quiet, I began speaking more honestly with myself and with the cosmos. And in that silence, what I can only describe as messages and energetic impressions began to arrive in abundance. The cards seemed clearer. My feelings became more pronounced. The energies around me felt less clouded by the noise of other people’s expectations.

Like mist lifting from the ocean, something began to clear.

The seas within me became calmer.

The truth became easier to see.

And perhaps that was the lesson all along: I did not need to force so many things into my life. What was not meant to be held had to be released. What I had mistaken for part of my energetic blueprint may simply have been temptation; a familiar pull, inherited from old patterns, old wounds and old versions of myself.

So I stopped.

And in stopping, I learned.

I said goodbye to the past and began to understand the pull.

Not every pull is guidance. Not every desire is destiny. Some forces draw us backwards simply because they are familiar. The greatest act of freedom is sometimes not to resist with violence, but simply to become still enough to recognise that we no longer have to follow.

Now, with the solitude and quiet strength of the Priestess, I move forward through this cosmos carrying my lessons gently. I do not wish to preach them to others, only to live them. And perhaps, through my own healing, those who cross my path may find permission to release something too.

To let go.

To become still.

To listen for their own truth.

This seat in the cosmos is my new understanding of The Pull—not the call of distraction, validation or the ghosts of centuries past, but the quiet magnetic force of the soul guiding itself home.

And above me, each night, Venus offers her light.

She has always been there.

Perhaps I am only now learning to see her.

So I look up.

And I let her everlasting light guide me.

The New Becoming:

A Return to the Sea, the Self, and the Soul.

In May 2026, I permanently moved to a small Greek island off the coast of Athens. I left my home in Adelaide to return to my ancient roots, to place myself once again in the bosom of the mountains and the sea.

I resigned from my academic position at the university, sold my belongings, shipped my books, my cats, and the few small things I could not leave behind—28 boxes in total.

Three months in, the universe brought changes into my life that I could never have anticipated, but which I have learned to trust as part of the new course of my life.

In the midst of postgraduate study, soul-searching, and renovating a very tiny cottage by the sea—all with extremely limited expense—I found myself in the company of a beautiful hound: a Greek Shepherd dog named Nala.

Nala came to me through a friend just before the Lion’s Gate, and somehow, she gave me the strength to step into this new energy with the power of a lioness.

Decisions to clear energies that no longer served a purpose were made like a hot blade. Not without pain, nor without tears, but with the understanding that they were necessary if I was to find the warrior within.

The clarity came in seconds, more powerfully than ever before.

Mistakes made in the past, patterns repeated, and boundaries that had never been put in place suddenly became apparent. I could finally see why certain things continued to repeat and why the pain continued with them.

For a time, I lost myself.

And then, before me, I found my image again.

A stronger woman.

A woman stripped of the emotional addictions I had once carried. Rebellious. Regal. Unapologetic.

I had no more space for pain.

No more space for the bad behaviour of others. No more space for dismissing abuse as simply someone else’s wounding.

That was their journey, not mine.

And so I opened the door to the gate in a kind of flamed silence.

Anything that could not be said became a message from the universe. Perhaps it was never meant to be said, because it would not have been heard or understood. The futility of meanings gone wrong, of misunderstandings between misaligned souls, no longer needed to occupy my space.

After the much-needed pause of simply being, I made a decision.

I looked at my cats, my dog, and the island before me. Venus was bright in the sky, watching over everything, and I finally silenced the needs of a past life.

The conveniences I once had were no longer within reach. Even the smallest patterns of everyday life had disappeared.

I cook less.

I walk more.

I bathe in the ocean every day.

There is no coffee machine filling the house with its familiar aroma. No toaster. No pot sitting ready to boil. Only a small contraption with which to prepare simple, light meals.

And yet, I have everything I need.

I have water to wash in and an endless view to soak in while I write, draw and read.

Sewing by hand to decorate my little cottage has reminded me of another time, when I made dolls. Now my chairs have been given a new lease on life, transformed into something resembling French provincial pieces. I stripped away the dark wood and leather and replaced them with pale chalk paint and silk bows.

Every tiny corner of the house carries light and memory.

Illustrations sit within frames. Candles flicker beside crystal bottles filled with decanted oils. Little pieces of beauty have found their place.

The change has been one of growth.

What was once important has become part of memories I no longer need to carry.

The energy shifted.

Authentic living took its place.

Here, people who are salt of the earth have entered this new existence, while the superficial has quietly taken its leave.

Everything feels preordained.

Everything seems to form part of a blueprint for the life I am meant to live. Every change is one I cannot alter, because somehow, if I resist it, it simply returns in another form.

Every nudge feels like a small dent in my skin.

A whisper in the wild.

A calling from the magpies with their long tails.

A response waiting to be given.

All of it belongs to the new becoming of life.

Magical.

Celestial.

True.