Summer lovin' had me a blast

Snippets of warmth & learning from six weeks off the tools

Well, HI! How are we all? How is 2024 feeling for you? Did you set a word for the year? Would you be happy to share it? How is it playing out thus far?

So many questions. I’ve missed hanging with you all here.

I’d usually be drafting a newsletter for you right now. Instead, I feel like writing you a newsy letter. Normal programming will resume next week in the fast, fabulous month of February.

To me, January usually feels long and languid. All the days seem to melt into one, and despite the warmth in our southern neck of the woods, change happens at glacial speed. Not so this year. I have had the distinct sense that January has been a training month for us all. We’ve experienced multiple magical shifts and some mundane shittiness - all designed to whip us into shape for the year ahead. Does it feel the same for you, I wonder?

Here are some of the summer learnings I’m grateful for:

What if, instead of being driven, we chose to be drawn?

I realised a while back that I no longer feel driven. I missed it for a while. My drive helped me to push through exhaustion, to keep going when things got hard, to achieve big things. But even though I missed it, I didn’t it want it back. Drive led me to burnout. It made me hustle. It also made me bone-weary.

Over the summer I heard Mark Nepo share that he lost his drive after his cancer journey. After a year of trying to find it again, he realised he was now drawn rather than driven to do things, and that there was huge freedom in that.

What if we chose to follow what we feel drawn to rather than driven by?

That’s what life and work feel like for me now. I feel drawn to do certain things. When I’m drawn, the energy and motivation are still there in spades. But they’re softer. Sweeter. Aligned with the whole, not motivated by the ego. And - ultimately - more productive.

What if we stopped wishing away imperfection?

We went on a camping trip in January. I say camping; in reality we rented a rustic cabin and two of our kids pitched a tent on the kangaroo-loaded lawn out the back. Four screen-free days. Multiple games of cards and chess and Scrabble. A whole lot of love. The highlights reel made it look perfect (and in some ways, it was). What it didn’t mention was that on the day of departure, I had a nasty chest infection, Ben had a broken big toe, Bailey had an ear infection on top of Bali belly, and Xavier hadn’t slept the night before and was, to put it mildly, ‘grucking fumpy’¹.

Perfectly imperfect memories

Some woo-woo circles spread a dangerous myth: that once we’re connected to source/the universe/the divine, everything will be WONDERFUL. This is just not true. As much as we’re here as souls, we are also humans living with other humans on a densely-energied planet. Shit happens. Toes break. Germs take hold. Teenagers get grouchy.

The trip away made me realise how much time I have spent wanting things to be perfect rather than finding the sweetness in imperfection. My friend Mia talks about the alchemy of acceptance; of surrendering to what is. I had a taste of it while camping.

What if we chose to no longer be afraid?

A few outwardly crappy things happened in January. Four big work projects I’d counted on fell through. I was ill for three weeks. I experienced a difficult mediation session with someone who flung words at me like arrows.

But I’m grateful for all of it. There was gold within the shit. The postponed projects gave me a more restful holiday. The illness led to a decision to take an extra day or four to just have fun, and Ben and I enjoyed a marvellous week of adventure and indulgence as a result. And the mediation session helped me to let go of any expectations that people will eventually always see themselves, others and the situation clearly.

What if other people’s business was never our business? What if we were okay with others seeing us through foggy lenses? What if we let them be who they are, and think of us how they wish? And even if a seemingly untenable situation never changed, what if we knew we’d be okay?

In January, I learned to stop being worried about things going badly. That, even if events unfurled in outwardly shitty packages, there’d be gold tucked away within.

To quote Oscar Wilde:

Don’t be afraid. There are exquisite things waiting for you.

Indulgence at the Salopian Inn in McLaren Vale. A favourite. And the best wine list in SA. (Yup, I indulged in a glass or two of wine over summer).

What if we focussed more on making memories?

My beautiful friend Mia Handshin - maker of multiple, magnificent and memorable metaphors - was driving along the Port Elliot main road after boogie-boarding + breakfasting with Taryn Brumfitt and me. Out of nowhere, Mia was hit by another car. The car spun and her spine fractured. Luckily - so luckily - she will be okay in time. But in one single second, every single plan she had for the start of 2024 evaporated.

Here’s what I learned. Life can shift, instantaneously. Plans for future happiness can go up in smoke.

What if we focussed on making memories right here, right now, whenever we can, and just because we can?

And what if we accepted that sometimes we need to go a bit quiet?

As I wrote in this Instagram post, 2023 felt like an inward year in the main. I was in the spirit world as much as I was on earth. And I was on our little farm more than I was on stage. I still don’t quite know why this was. Was it a preparation year? A recovery year? A year of healing and rest? Perhaps I’ll never know.

Over summer, I heard Lee Harris say that we’re not meant to bloom all the time. Sometimes we need to sit with a wound for a while, and that’s okay. In that moment, I realised that I had been quietly and unconsciously judging myself for not being bigger, brighter and better over the last few years. And in that moment, I remembered that everything was as it should be. That the moments of reverence and hush were invaluable. That there are times to cocoon, and times to fly, and times for all the stages in between.

My questions for you

How are you? I mean really … how ARE you? We’re into real responses here, so feel free to go hard/long/deep.

How is 2024 feeling? What’s your word for the year? How’s it panning out?

What did you learn over summer that we might be able to learn from too?

How can I help you this year? What would float your boat/light you up/put your cat in its pyjamas?

Oh, and if you’d like to work with me in 2024, this LinkedIn post/Instagram post shares how.

With a big bushy bunch of love,

Gemma 💛

1. We’re fond of spoonerisms in our house. That’s all the clues you’re going to get.