A.Leve.Snow Angel.April 2022

Freeze. Sprout. Shine.Fall. Repeat…

It has taken me much longer than I had wanted to get to this point. The point where I finally get my fingers on a keyboard for reasons unrelated to the 9-5. I suppose the fact that I have procrastinated, and put this on the back-burner is yet another salient reminder of how putting my ‘self’ first is the oxygen mask on the plane…

It has been a profound year, 2022, a profound couple of years, to be honest. Profound not in a negative way, to those of you, like me, enamoured with connotations.

The realisation of what I’ll call the tectonic soulful uprising brings changed behaviour, right? Well, yes but it certainly is not an overnight process, neither is it a straight line and neither is it a destination. I’m learning, daily that it is a lifelong commitment with nooks and crannies, peaks and pits.

Freedom. Yes.

For the last say 2.5 years, I have been on a diet of Glennon Doyle, Brene’ Brown, Liz Gilbert, Eckhart Tolle, Joe Dispenza, Oprah Winfrey, Andrew Huberman, Mark Epstein, and Dan Harris to name a few. I’ve found, and continue to find, meaning in talk therapy, somatic therapy, breathwork, meditation and stillness. A kaleidoscope.

It’s an ebb and flow, this journey of self-discovery and reckoning. I’m a combination of ‘feels’ with a relentless mind. I’ve also realised that my empathy ‘bandwidth’ extends so much for other people, in particular, and yet I struggle with self-compassion.

Light and dark, heavy, acceptance, disappointment, vulnerability, reflection, meaning, essence, depth, connection. None of this is linear nor is it easy… but as someone once said, “easy is boring”.

You know who you are.

I know who I am.

I know who I am becoming.

Life ebbs and flows.

Like the seasons…

My home has made me more attuned to the seasons. The seasons here are very distinct.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, or “Fall”… At a time in my life when I am becoming more attuned with my, “self”, the word home is in and of itself a loaded one, and as the adage goes ” home is not a place, it’s a feeling”…

Do you feel me?

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
– Fleetwood Mac – Landslide


Winter is not just ‘wear a jacket, it is “Do you have long johns on under your clothes?’, it is not “Oh I have the whole day to do this“, but rather, “it is going to be dark by 4 PM so I better do this now while it’s still light out”.

It’s knowing that the white snow can invoke the ‘koselig‘ ‘feels’ but the lily-white flakes will turn into sludge and bone-breaking ice. The trams are quiet, save for the jolt when they stop and go, and when the doors open. In Winter, vitamins become even more of a lifeline, as are warm and waterproof clothes and shoes, and yes, jackets and coats. It’s as if the layers are a guard, an impenetrable layer of protection as you cocoon.

A SAD reality, winter.

People commute but rarely do they communicate.

In a culture that is generally very isolated, a winter ‘wellness plan’ tends to look the same for most people but is vastly different for those who are ‘not the same’…

What I’ve found though is that it need not be binary, a little bit of this and a little bit of that, works… much like life.


Spring brings with it a promise of brighter days, literally. The streets are strewn with multi-coloured buds in bloom. There’s a ‘spring’ in the step of the once sombre tram riders. Dawn comes sooner and dusk slightly later, as the days start becoming lighter and the winter layers are shed…


Then *finally* summer makes her highly anticipated entrance. She isn’t a fiery maven, but she is warm and inviting. She offers longer days and depending on where you are, the midnight sun.

She reawakens a sense of splendour that had been tucked away. Salsa parties, beach days, nature breaks. Chatter, laughter, smiles, dresses, skirts, shorts, sandals, and sunnies.

She is the pause, usually for the whole month of July, that sees many ‘vacate’ to exotic destinations for R&R and stories to tell. “Where are you going on vacation?” Not, “Are you going on vacation? What a privilege…

I’ve noticed how my Southern heart felt lighter, in a lot of ways, in the summer. As the youngins say, Summer “is the girl she thinks she is”…

Then summer’s shine and warmth begin to subside, and her days draw to a close, sooner.

Her effervescence is replaced by a different kind of vision.


Autumn, or fall, scatters the pavements, streets and parks with leaves as the trees shed their armour. Wafting multi-coloured leaves, grey skies, and rain.

She sure does take your breath away. It’s a melancholic beauty, an oxymoronic state.

Seasons, like feelings, are there to be felt…



No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
… – Natasha Bedingfield- Unwritten



Seasons, like feelings, are there to be felt…

Sometimes we will run, sometimes we will wander. Are these mutually exclusive?

Sometimes we will do both, but ultimately running away just causes more harm.

Why [are you] so restless?

Ebb and flow.

One day at a time.

One bite at a time.



Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”
― Brene Brown

The more that you say
The less I know
Wherever you stray
I follow.
I’m begging for you to take my hand
Wreck my plans
That’s my man.
You know that my train could take you home
Anywhere else is hollow
I’m begging for you to take my hand
Wreck my plans
That’s my man
. – Willow- Taylor Swift

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