i’m a people’s person, but potentially to a fault.

i care deeply about others, i make an effort, and i’ll often overextend myself, especially for those i love. i want to see the people around me win, because when they win, i feel like i do too. i also love to speak life into people, and support them emotionally as they pursue their dreams.

at the same time, i never expect that same treatment from others, because i know how much energy it takes, and i don’t want others to exert themselves in the same way.

yet too often, i’ve found that this exact kindness and patience is weaponised against me. people have exploited my caring nature, using me as a bit of a punching bag whenever they needed. they have taken advantage of my energy, and depended on me beyond the scope of what i could give.

i also became a safety net for some people. that really sucked.

in those sorts of situations, i was neglected or not prioritised as a friend UNTIL they needed some sort of emotional support.

but worst of all, i was getting walked all over. my patience and understanding were all things that made it easy for people to think that i wouldn’t be hurt. that if they did something hurtful, i would be able to extend that patience and understanding towards them, and they would be absolved of all their sins.

and honestly, for a long time, i did.

i’ve forgiven a lot of people, given people countless chances, and always tried to intellectualise their mistakes as unintentional. people are complex, so i think concessions are important.

but i think after going through two experiences around this time last year, where i found myself completely discarded, was a real wake-up call for me, especially as someone who always tries to see the good in people. i still don’t even believe that the people who were involved are bad people, they were just incredibly reckless. their behaviour told me that they never truly stopped to think about how i would feel in their wake, because i had never made my own emotions and feelings a priority in our relationships. i had always prioritised theirs.

when you give too much understanding and support to others’ emotions, with no reciprocal energy exchange, it empowers these individuals to believe that their feelings take precedence over yours, and everyone else’s. it can sometimes, unintentionally, breed very self-serving individuals, and as a result, you’ll likely end up as collateral.

what i’m coming to learn in life is that mutual and reciprocal energy exchanges are key to healthy relationships. a relationship is not a relationship without both parties chipping in. if you’re the only person making an effort, you might as well be your own best friend!

i now only want, and only prioritise, relationships in my life where i get back what i give (or more).

i no longer over-extend for people where i do not feel the same sort of energy back. i no longer have empathy for people who watch me put all the effort in, but never show that back. i no longer reach out to people who don’t reach out to me. because if i can do it, why can’t you?

i’m really lucky to have a few close friends, family members, and a boyfriend who really do. they show up, they make an effort, they go out of their way to help me out, despite my protests.

i also have long-term, low-maintenance friends too, but i love them just the same. that’s because they are still reciprocal: our mutual low-effort, sustains the health of our connection without draining either of us. however, these are generally also maintained because the foundational years of friendship we have built are so strong that they never falter in the face of distance, busy schedules, and time.

that is a blessing. it feels like a gift after the lessons i learnt last year.

a short entry for today, but a poignant one for me. i hope it helps you too.

lots of love,

kaela <3

growing up half-British Jamaican and half-Argentinian in Sydney meant that a true sense of belonging within my cultural and familial community was already very much out of the question. one side of my family live on the other side of the world, and despite being immersed in the other side of my culture, i was always quite conscious of looking different from them.

this naturally extended beyond the bounds of my immediate family and became a pervasive challenge as i navigated a city like Sydney. don’t get me wrong, it’s a very multicultural place. it was just a shame that i could never quite find myself in the cultures that were present here. i’ve always stuck out like a sore thumb, with my warmer complexion and big hair, so i always srruggled to find my place here.

apart from cultural community, i’ve also had a complicated relationship with friendship. rather than attracting them, i initially was more fond of the chase.

my dad always tells me that as a toddler, he would take me to public parks and playgrounds around the city, and i would approach other kids in an attempt to befriend them, only for them to ignore me or run away (cry).

i was so earnest and genuine in my approach to friendship, but that wasn’t always reciprocated.

as i grew older, though, making friends became less of an issue. i found myself with a lot of them. arguably too many.

i just love connecting with people! humans are what colour and shape the world into a more beautiful place. the stories, lessons, humour, and wisdom we each harbour are meant to be shared, and i adore drawing them out of people.

whilst i got better at navigating friendships, i also found myself exercising more discernment with them. i knew i couldn’t be as open with everyone. so i tried to come across a little less earnest. i’d hide parts of myself to appease people, silence myself in moments where i thought i might ruin the energy, and blindly agree in conversations to keep the peace.

there are definitely moments where it’s important to read the room and know when things are better left unsaid, but my self-censorship often bordered on people-pleasing.

honestly, i was scared of losing people. i was scared they too would run away from me like those kids on the playground.

yet what i’ve come to learn about friendship is that the best ones usually aren’t the ones you chase, or the ones you subdue yourself to maintain. they’re the friendships that happen organically, with little force. the ones where both parties are equally earnest. where both people approach the friendship with open hearts, open minds, and open souls.

my closest friends to this day have all been made that way. i didn’t have to chase them. it was a mutual meeting. we had similar intentions and were able to come together effortlessly.

despite many of my friendships resulting from mutually earnest approaches, these connections have still been difficult to come by. my interests, passions, and lifestyle haven’t always been compatible with the circumstances i’ve operated in. i don’t think my school, university, or law school were necessarily the perfect catchment areas for my exact matches.

starting content creation changed that for me. my catchment area suddenly expanded globally in a matter of seconds. i was able to reach more people all at once.

it was through social media that i realised how limiting my circumstances had been in producing fully aligned friendships. the ones i had found felt like rare gems, few and far between. diamonds in the rough.

yet social media made me realise that this wasn’t always the case. there were far more people out there than i had imagined.

connecting online with like-minded people through shared interests and values awoke me to the fact that we are often so limited in our worldview when it comes to friendship. the loneliness epidemic that plagues so many is arguably a result of people never getting to experience the boundless opportunities for connection that might exist on the other side of their city, or in a completely different country.

without social media, i might never have realised there were people on the other side of Sydney, Melbourne, the US, or the UK who felt and experienced the world in such similar ways. that realisation has made me so much more confident in myself. i no longer feel alone in my unique experiences.

perhaps this is why i have now become so passionate about building an aligned community through my Sydney events.

for those of you who are new here, i run Used to Muse, a community collective that gathers around deep conversations, journalling, mindfulness, and whimsical themed events. i hope to create third spaces and opportunities for people to expand their catchment areas. i want to attract like-minded souls through shared interests, so that people have more opportunities to find their matches beyond the confines of university or their 9–5.

especially as we age, our catchment areas seem to dwindle. it’s also natural for our existing friendships to take new shapes and forms as we enter new stages of life, new relationships, or new friendships that may take precedence over the ones you once shared.

but arguably, this is even more of a reason to remain open to spaces that provide opportunities for connection, as they truly keep our souls alive. company offers such beautiful solace and reprieve from the chaotic, and often difficult, lives we can lead.

i am incredibly proud to be leading such a special community space through Used to Muse, and it excites me to see people entering it as earnestly as i once did. to see that energy reciprocated in rooms full of beautiful souls makes my inner child so happy.

(and if you want to be involved, follow @usedtomuse on Instagram! the next event will be on the 18th of july… stay tuned xx)

lots of love,

kaela <3

This atmosphere sets the scene for this month’s muse. Introducing Hannah Teresa: the elusive, and ever-so talented founder and creative director of HALUMINOUS and Reborneshop.

I first met Hannah in August last year, when she invited me to visit Reborneshop for the first time. It’s an intimate yet expansive store, tucked along the bustling streets of Chippendale and home to an eclectic mix of indie pieces. Her own brand, HALUMINOUS, stands out, defined by strong, dark silhouettes, striking craftsmanship, and bold choices.

Admittedly, I arrived nervous.

Fashion, for me, hasn’t always felt instinctive. It has always been something I’ve had to dance around carefully and cultivate, never quite certain I was getting it right. That uncertainty lingered as I stepped inside. It did not last.

Hannah met me with a warmth that immediately disarmed it. She was generous with her time, open in conversation, and intuitive in the way she guided me. I was invited to dress up, to experiment, to step beyond what felt familiar. At one point, that meant a pair of these striking fur boots that I would have never chosen on my own, but was so glad I did.

What stayed with me was not just the experience, but her perspective. Hannah speaks about fashion as “emotional armour”: both protection and expression. It was a way of thinking I had never considered, and one that quietly reshaped my own relationship with clothing. Since then, getting dressed has felt more intentional, more like a choice about how I want to project my internal world outwardly.

Hannah is now preparing to present her latest HALUMINOUS collection at this year’s Australian Fashion Week. As a muse of mine, I had the pleasure of speaking with her about her own muses.

On Muses

Who, or what, would you say is your muse?

Hannah: My muse is always someone from a fantastical narrative, distilled from my own internal world.

Do you have a recurring muse?

Hannah: Yes, she often appears as an archetype rather than a specific person. She is beautiful, emotional, slightly dangerous, and powerful. She reappears in different forms across my work.

Rituals

What are some rituals you have that lend themselves to your creative practice?

Hannah: My practice begins with slowing down and going inward. I sit with a feeling until it becomes a character, then a silhouette, then a collection.

What have you had to unlearn to grow into your current practice?

Hannah: I’ve had to unlearn speed. I used to work in a very fast-paced environment with multiple collections per season. I had to step away from that rhythm and build a slower, safer space to develop deeper narratives.

Inspiration

How do you reinspire yourself when you’re lacking it?

Hannah: I return to nature or I internalise more deeply. I ask myself what I am feeling right now, what I am anxious or excited about, who I am in this moment, and where she wants to go. I almost observe myself like a third person.

Is there a piece of media that has recently inspired your creative practice?

Hannah: Frankenstein continues to inspire me. I read it many times growing up through a beautifully illustrated Korean book, and it deeply shaped my early work. The tension between horror, beauty, and creation still influences me today.

Philosophy

What is your life mantra?

Hannah: Face the fear and move through it. I see fear as a doorway rather than a stop sign. If something makes me anxious, it usually means there is growth on the other side. My mantra is to burn through that fear until it no longer controls me. I don’t believe in impossibility, only possibilities that come with difficulty, pain, and something to overcome.

Was starting HALUMINOUS more an act of desperation or intuition?

Hannah: It was always intuitive. HALUMINOUS comes from within and has always been driven by instinct through a fantastical lens.

Emotive and Protective Fashion

What does “emotional armour” mean to you on a personal level?

Hannah: To me, clothing is a layer of identity you can wear. Emotional armour means garments that hold and protect you, both physically and psychologically. With Haluminous, I want women to feel empowered, sensual, strong, and protected at the same time.

What role does performance, like your runway shows, play in how you think about fashion?

Hannah: Performance and theatre are central to how I think about fashion. What connects me to fashion is the HALUMINOUS community, but what drives me creatively is fantasy. The runway allows me to express the full story, while the commercial line is a distilled version of that world.

The Future of HALUMINOUS

What do you hope someone feels the moment they put on HALUMINOUS?

Hannah: Beautiful and dangerous. Seen, but still mysterious. I want them to feel like a complex woman with her own mythology, choosing something alternative and powerful for herself.

Where do you see HALUMINOUS in five years, emotionally, not commercially?

Hannah: Emotionally, I see HALUMINOUS as a rising resortwear world through a darker, more romantic lens. I imagine a black yacht, a red dress, chilled red wine, and a woman who rejects the expected version of holiday dressing. It becomes about theatre, tension, and a more dangerous kind of beauty.

I am so grateful to Hannah for taking the time to be this month’s muse during such a busy period of Fashion Week preparation. I hope you take something from her words and perhaps find yourself stepping into Reborneshop one day, ready to play dress up and leave feeling transformed.

Lots of love,

Kaela <3

i’ve never viewed myself as one thing. i’ve never narrowed in on one life path, and felt entirely seen or fulfilled by the prospect of it.

i have a fear that if i boxed myself into something one day, several other parts of me would yearn to be free.

the musician, the filmmaker, the journalist, the lawyer, the entrepreneur, the author…

and ever since i was a child, i was interested in a billion, gazillion different things. they often say what you were most drawn to as a child is what your true calling in life is. so if my calling was many things, why would i not pursue them all.

these thoughts make me return to sylvia plath, once again, and her infamous fig-tree analogy:

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor… I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

and yet, i fail to agree that this analogy is in fact true. i refuse to believe this.

that’s just simply not how fig trees work. figs grow back. yes, it may take time for them to do so, but in real life, we have the gift of time. we have the ability to choose one fig, and if we get hungry for more, whilst the tree regenerates, we can roam elsewhere for sustenance in the interim.

we are also not trapped under one tree. land is vast. we have options and space. we have the gift of our minds. we can get innovative.

i often view my “side-quests” as the roaming. i’ve technically chosen two figs, by deciding to study a media/law degree. but whilst studying, i’ve been working and socialising, which has led me to wander across other trees that i didn’t even know existed. this has not only expanded my worldview, but also extended my passions beyond what i thought was possible.

rather than limit myself to one tree, like society typically wants us to, i’m intent on pushing the bounds. i crave the challenge of doing it all. my spirit yearns for the chance to flex each muscle.

i refuse to lead an ordinary life. and to lead an extraordinary one, you must go above and beyond what’s expected of you.

and so, i will sing, i will write, i will create content, i will finish my law degree, and i will be open to adopting many more skills and outlets as my life progresses. limitations are prisons.

we’re only here for a short time. this experience inevitably ends for us all one day. so i want to make sure that when it does, i have absolutely no regrets about the way i lived it. i want to make sure that i did everything i could to nourish and fulfil my soul in every way she cried out for.

and i think you should too.

one is simple: ‘to think about something carefully and for a long time’,1 which encapsulates much of what my substack, podcast, and content are built upon.

the second definition describes a muse as a person or force that inspires creation. a spirit, a thing, a concept or a feeling so powerful that it becomes the subject of boundless artistic expression.

with that in mind, i wanted to explore the idea of the muse a little deeper, with a few of my own. muse on muses, so to speak.

welcome to muse of the month, a series where i spotlight inspiring people over the course of the year, and interrogate their own musings.

the first is someone i’ve admired quietly for several years now.

introducing feks, a multidisciplinary artist, whose humility about her practice stands in quiet contrast to the breadth of her work. when asked to introduce herself to my audience, she offered little explanation. perhaps because she prefers to let the work speak for itself; perhaps because it does.

feks artistic expression is not confined to a single medium. it shifts and expands alongside her own evolution as a young, ethiopian woman from western sydney. working primarily in mixed-media animation and embroidery, her practice is both tactile and experimental.

her work is immediately distinct. feks’ pours life into her tapestries with bright colour, fruit motifs (which we’ll return to later), nostalgia, and nods to her cultural heritage. where some art leans into pretention, a feks piece feels joyfully unguarded. whimsical, sincere, and full of life. much like feks herself.

naturally, i was curious to learn more about the journey that shaped the multifaceted creative she is today, so i decided to start by taking it back to the beginning.

early creativity

has creativity always been a big part of your life or upbringing?

feks: yes, it definitely has. i’ve always been somewhat creative. i think everyone has a creative bone in their body. whether they choose to dabble in it or not is another thing altogether.

the first time i really delved into my creativity though was in 2018. a few years before that, my dad had a camcorder that he was trying to get rid of, so he asked me if i wanted it. i held onto it for a while, and then finally decided to use it in the summer of ‘18. i was 19, still at uni. i recorded everything that entire break.

afterwards, i collated all of the footage, and then just started experimenting with video editing.

i don’t really use the camcorder much now, but looking back, it lowkey changed my life.

what did the transition to mixed-media art look like for you?

feks: i think it was maybe around COVID that i had a creative block in 2022. i really didn’t know what i wanted to do, but was always really fascinated by mixed media animations.

one day, my friend brought me on set, and i was there to assist with shooting the bts, but it felt like the first time that i picked up my camcorder. it felt like the beginning, like i didn’t know anything, and i’d just started back at square one.

i wanted to make some mixed media animations with the footage i’d captured, and had nothing else to lose than a couple hours of my time, so i enrolled in youtube university, searching up tutorials. after that i started dabbling in more and more things that i always wanted to do.

with creativity established early on, i was curious to dig further into the inspiration behind her work.

inspiration

how has your life or your cultural heritage influenced your creative practice?

feks: my art is inspired by my day-to-day life, anything from mundane tasks, to my friends, to my family, to the interactions i have with my coworkers, and the actual work that i do as well. it all kind of forces me to have different perspectives that circles its way back to my art.

my art is also heavily influenced by my cultural heritage, because that too is included in the world around me. i really try to stay connected with my roots.

a series that i started was my embroidery work from archival family photos. that in itself felt like unpacking history through photographs, and connecting with my family’s upbringing through generations.

i had those photos collated from my trip back home about 2 years ago, and had always known i wanted to do something with them. then one day, in a dream, the embroidery concept was shown to me.

it was another new skill i had to pick up. i hadn’t done anything like that since textile class in high school, but now it’s a part of my practice.

who, or what is your muse?

feks: right now, it’s fruit.

my muses definitely change as i evolve, and are not always humans.

i really love fruit, and capture it through my series ‘the fruits of my labour’.

the first fruit i focused on was actually a mixture of them: a banana, a mandarin, and some berries maybe? that one in particular was inspired by soupe opera. as i mentioned before a lot of my work is very nostalgic, and surrounds my upbringing, which also involved migrating to australia when i was four. the reason why i loved that show, was because of the whimsy and lack of dialogue. english was my second language, so i think i enjoyed that it was really inclusive.

now the series has grown, and i love experimenting with fruit. they’re easily accessible for me. i always have a fruit nearby and i like them. growing up, going to local fruit shops had a sense of community around it, especially in migrant communities, and now we’re seeing less of that because of gentrification. this series feels like a way to keep that spirit alive.

when new inspiration arises for you, where does it show up?

feks: it’s quite sporadic. most of the time it shows up at work. i think when you’re forced to think about other things, those other things often lead back to your creative work.

sometimes in dreams, like the embroidery.

and then other times, it comes to me in the shower. there’s just something about that sydney water.

is there a piece of media that has recently inspired your creative practice?

feks: i think bjork’s album: post. but honestly just bjork herself: her music, and everything she stands for.

equally important as inspiration, is nuturing the creativity that fuels the artist.

rituals

what are some rituals you have that lend themselves to your creativity?

feks: i honestly try not to think too much about it.

if i have a creative block, i don’t beat myself up. i’m a human, not a robot. that’s not always ideal though when i have something i need to create for someone else.

so in those cases, going outside and touching grass is great. of late, i’ve actually really enjoyed walking around, finding one colour and making an animation loop of that colour during my walk. it’s a great practice to open my eyes and my brain to the world around me.

what conditions does your creativity require to thrive?

feks: it can thrive off chaos and also the calm.

i feel like i’m always in the midst of chaos, but sometimes it can tip and fall into a downward spiral. so either or? a good balance of both?

i usually create in my home studio, my actual art studio, or any place i’m in reach of. the beauty of animation is that it doesn’t take much. just a pen, a piece of paper, and you’re there.

alongside her creative practice, there’s a philosophy that guides it.

philosophy

do you seek to inspire through your work? if so, how?

feks: yes. giving back to my community is really important, and anytime someone has a query about anything, i’m so down to give whatever i have.

i hope that someday it can turn into something bigger than a DM. something more physical.

with my art, i’ve always wanted it to be a fun thing for me, and that’s at the core of my practice. i’m always expanding that, and i really want to teach people that you don’t need much to start. if there’s a will, there’s a way.

is there a mantra you live by?

tomorrow is not promised. pick up an instrument, learn that language, start that painting.

life is short. <3

it was an absolute pleasure connecting with my muse, feks, and hearing more about her story. i can’t wait to fill you in on more over the year.

lots of love,

kaela <3

when I journal, the world stops moving. it’s just me, the lined pages, a pen, and a heavy mind.

i come to the page with purpose. i have a mental agenda: pour everything down. no fear, no judgment, no embarassment. these words are for my eyes only (or at least, I write as if they are).

things we are taught about writing: structure, grammar etc. all fly out the window. the aim is not to create the most insightful, articulate piece of writing. it is to alleviate the mind. it is to be raw, honest, and vulnerable with myself. strip back the layers, the pretention, and the pressure, and just be.

as an avid promoter of journalling, here are some of the tips and tricks that will assist you in your journey.

1. find the right environment

natural light is a must-have for me when journalling. with a bit of sunlight streaming onto the pages of my notebook, I feel like I can conquer any thought that comes flooding through. it’s an energising source, and helps with inspiration.

on days where I don’t have much to say, I’ll often use my surroundings as a starting point — just writing exactly what is going on around me. if I’m outside, that often involves painting a picture of the passerbys, the birds chirping a sweet melody, the faint hum of busy city traffic, and the smell of fresh grass. so going to a place filled with stimuli is great for this — a park, an outdoor seating area at a cafe, even a bar or pub!

it’s also important to ensure your seating situation is comfortable. when done correctly, a journalling session can last up to an hour (or more), so you want to ensure the ergonomic design of your setting is well-equipped to sustain you through your mental voyage.

2. equip yourself with the right fuel.

by this, I mean the right drink of choice. for me, that often looks like a cup of tea, or a matcha. it’s l-theanine properties are perfect for calming my nervous system, and helping me focus on the words to come. the warm embrace between my hand and the mug serve to settle me into a steady stream of consciousness - one of the only touchpoints with reality that I maintain whilst wandering the mind palace.

water is great too! coffee can be nice - just make sure it’s at an hour, or during a state in which it won’t distract you from the task at hand.

3. choose a journal that feels like you

this isn’t an esssential requirement of a good journalling session - any type of journal or notebook will do - but it definitely does elevate the experience.

characteristics that mark my dream diary are those with soft, but sturdy pages, an earthy exterior, and are easy to slip into my bag wherever I go. this makes the muji notebooks a favourite of mine. their only downfall is the lack of pages within each — meaning I’m often back in-store purchasing another shortly after the first.

however, recently, my friends kaitlyn and grace gifted me a studio milligram leather bound journal, which has now become one of my most prized possessions. it has a similar look and feel to that of the louise carmen journals, just less inaccessible and more reasonably priced.

i like to decorate my journal with these cute floral stickers that I found at kmart, and I think they add a really beautiful personal touch that motivates me to fill the pages with the same amount of love.

a good pen also makes a world of difference. one that’s lightweight, a little inky (but not too much to stain the pages), and smooth to both the touch and the page. black is my colour of choice. simple, effective, and classic. i also have a personal superstition that black embeds my manifestations more deeply into the pages.

4. curate a journalling soundtrack

a solid soundtrack is everything.

on days where showing up to journal feels tough, a quality playlist can reset the tune of your mood, and allow you to get stuck in.

this isn’t true for everyone though. for some, a silent soundtrack works best. but in my opinion, that is still a soundtrack nonetheless. simply ensuring your soundscape is conducive to deep thought, introspection, and calm, is vital to helping you get the most out of your journalling sessions.

i have some self-curated soundtracks that i adore journalling to on spotify. my famous mind palace playlist is currently on 3.4k saves, and for good reason. it is seasoned with songs that only boast positive affirmations, to ensure no negative messaging is subconsciously seeping into your headspace.

i also adore a good frequency whilst journalling. my favourite playlist for this is here. it is ambient, yet ineffective on the nervous system. if anything, it slows you down. it lowers your heart rate, clears your mind, and creates the perfect soundscape to pour your heart out to.

being outside in nature is another natural producer of journal-friendly sonics. as mentioned prior, i often love journalling outside, in parks, or by the beach, because besides the beautiful environment it provides, it also comes along with the sweet song of birds chirping, the rustling of trees, and the soft hum of life.

5. don’t use time or fear as an excuse

as much as it is easy to do so, please don’t.

this isn’t an invitation to be hard on yourself. don’t force yourself to journal when it is physically and practically impossible. BUT, should you ever begin avoiding your journal because of a “lack of time”, yet find yourself glued to your phone for several hours later on, stop yourself.

i have often found myself in this exact situation, so i’ve had to start instilling a gentle kind of discipline. rather than mandate a time of day i need to journal in, i just set a soft intention to do so at some point. if i don’t get to it, i don’t beat myself up about it. i just make sure that the next day, i’m on top of it. this also allows me to prevent making journalling feel like a chore. i can do so when i feel most called to — whether it’s the morning, middle of the day, or just before bed. i also can rest if my mind has nothing to share. it is simply an energetically cleansing process that i can indulge in when i desire.

hence, this is also an important reminder to try and redirect your energy in ways that will elevate you, as opposed to leaving you feeling like a shell of yourself after consuming excessive amounts of mind-numbing content. if you do find yourself doomscrolling, stop, pick up your journal, and start writing.

happy journalling!

with love,

kaela <3

when people ask me:

“what do you do for work?”

i reply, “i work in social media content creation.”

to which they respond:

“oh, so you’re an influencer?”

oh.

the word evokes a visceral reaction from me. one that i have to control and stabilise with the mind in order not to physically recoil down the back of my seat.

influencer. a new digitised strain of the “flu” that’s spread into a pandemic, seeming to plague the youth of today. and i’ve caught it.

i never reply with a confident “yes” to the question. it’s a label i don’t identify with, but one assigned to me in order for others to make sense of a concept they find difficult to grasp.

the shallowness of influencing

it’s often one synonymous with a sense of shallowness. when many visualise an “influencer”, they think of these shiny individuals, brandishing money, luxury goods, and an air of bravado that has made them slightly out of touch with reality. they view the role as one that is simple, easily attainable, and not at all of real value. i understand and can empathise with these perspectives. i’ve seen some of my favourite, humble creators online ascend to such places as they’ve grown in success.

but i have also seen content creation evolve over the years. a counter-movement has developed in the face of this shallowness, where the general appetite for luxe, aspirational content has subsided, and people crave more of the everyday: the relatable 9-5er, the single mum, the content that seems more attainable. rather than a high production value video, often the highest-performing content is that which is candid, someone sitting and talking to the camera on their couch. still inspiring in ways, but still within reach.

that is not to say beautiful things are no longer loved by audiences. aesthetic content still performs incredibly well. but there is simply more balance amidst the tide of videos and images that are produced, which i think is positively swaying social media into a better place.

i also feel that “influencing” is often synonymous with anti-intellectualism. there’s a sting that the word carries from the lips of certain individuals when they’ve used it in reference to me or others. to be honest, my ego has often taken a hit from that in the past. it feels like a disservice to the years i’ve spent dedicated to my education, to the degree i already have under my belt, and the law degree that is very shortly on the way. funnily enough, when i say “i have a podcast” or that i “have a substack”, there’s a very apparent tonal shift. those things somehow feel safer, more traditional, and more understandable to these “intellectual minds”, despite social media content creation often requiring the same, if not more, skill to produce.

purpose

however, there is a further lack of nuance that i see applied to the content creation space. anyone who exists in that space is lumped in with everyone else as an “influencer”. you of course have your “niches”: beauty, fashion, food, self-help, and my personal favourite, “lifestyle”, which often feels like a safe, broad label. it almost mirrors the effect of some people choosing to study a business degree to counteract the uncertainty of what it is they want to do with the rest of their life. i often call myself a “lifestyle” creator.

more and more, though, i feel like my content is edging closer to “self-help”. i’ve similarly professed my disdain for that label too on tiktok. it seems like a space that has strayed away from its core purpose: to help people better themselves. instead, it is now shadowed by men with their podcast microphones and hand mudras, regurgitating what they have read from a book almost verbatim, yet acting as if it were their own unique thought. i feel as though these very loud, dominant voices in the genre have pushed women away from feeling that there is space for them, to better themselves in a way that feels softer and more feminine. a way that fosters improvement through a nurturing lens rather than a destructive one. that is the space i hope to occupy.

this is why i feel like the “influencer” label undermines my purpose with creating content. technically it’s true that i do “influence”, particularly when i work in collaboration with brands, which i’m so grateful for. people are often inspired by my recommendations. they visit the places i tell them to, they listen to the songs i share, they read the books i love, and they journal about the thoughts i discuss in my podcast episodes and videos. they like, save, and share. they join along for the ride and allow me to build a following that i can continue to “influence” through the content i create.

influencing vs inspiring

so on a very basic, derivative level, yes, i am an “influencer”. yet again, i return to the fact that my issue with the word is that it feels very superficial. it undermines my personal purpose, which isn’t necessarily to “influence” but to “inspire”.

while “influence” feels aggressive, almost like a forceful command for others to do as i do or say, “inspire” feels more nurturing and aligned. “inspire” feels like an offering. here is this thought, this place, this feeling. do with it as you will. it places autonomy back into the hands of the viewer to make choices. this is a power that i feel social media is increasingly taking away from us by design, through algorithms that tell us what to watch and content that almost tells us what to like. “influencers” do the same. they feed the void that i feel sits at the prickly end of social media.

through “inspiring”, i hope to challenge that. inevitably, to make my inspiration viable, there are times and moments where i must “influence” to stay afloat. i need to compete with the noise, compensate for the time it takes to inspire, and ensure that i still have the capacity to give something more purposeful in a space that seems devoid of that at times.

i am also equally excited about the community-building aspect of content creation. in the next year, i look forward to creating opportunities that turn the spotlight back on the people who support me and who are similarly aligned. i want to take the online offline with events and third places for people to connect. i want to solidify social media’s role as a tool that helps you live your real-world life better, rather than one that holds you hostage in the online.

to conclude

i wonder if there will be a world where, one day, the role of an “influencer” becomes less of an unknown and uncertain beast. with the influencer economy already positioned at a multi-billion-dollar figure, this is only set to grow with time.

perhaps a more sensible and substantial term will be developed to give the role a more grounded sound and feel.

maybe the role of what we call an “influencer” today will evolve with the development of new platforms and as new intersections between the digital and physical world become more apparent. perhaps it will become imperative to have “influencers” in a space where we one day exist online more than we do in the real world.

and perhaps, one day, i will overcome the ick of the term “influencer” and learn to own it with unabashed confidence.

but i think we all know i’d much prefer to be called a “muse”.

much love,

kaela

anyone with a creative bone in their body understands the gift that inspiration is.

whether it’s a muse, a moment, a feeling, a song, a book, a conversation, et cetera, or all of the above, inspiration serves to drive the creative from inaction to a place of action.

it coaxes the artist past the fear of the blank canvas. it invites the writer to conquer the blank page. it lets the musician pull together melodies and lyrics from the ether. it hands the playwright the faint outline of a world not yet built.

yet, while many crave a moment of inspiration, i argue that there can sometimes be too much.

i once desired inspiration. stagnation in life has the potential to greatly stifle creativity, and such was true for me. nothing moved me. no muse powerful enough to inspire a song. no experience deep enough to channel into my writing.

and then, suddenly, there was everything. all at once.

the good, the bad, the ugly. experiences that filled me with joy. new people, places, and experiences that launched my mind into unfamiliar headspaces. even other pieces of art breathed new life into my own.

for a while, it was beautiful. i was creating rapidly and in abundance. i was on a roll.

and then i wasn’t.

in a strange twist, the abundance of inspiration became the very thing that paralysed me. too many muses, too many thoughts, too many new ideas. too many different vehicles and channels for this creativity. and now too many eyes watching, after i’d been creating so consistently.

i found myself stuck. with so much choice, i found my mind, body, and soul limited in its capacity to take advantage of them all.

so i just stopped. not entirely. but i loosened my grip on the flood of inspiration i’d been trying to hold.

inevitably, this led me to feel unfulfilled and resentful. resentful of my limitations as one young woman with so much to give, yet so little time, space, and energy.

this thought leads me back to sylvia plath, one of the very few writers whose work has resonated with me so deeply.

one of her quotes that i think perfectly captures this feeling is the following:

these limitations, and this abundance of choice in life, extend far beyond the realm of inspiration. they permeate everyday life. from the countless movies we have at our fingertips thanks to netflix, to the constant flow of content that algorithms pour into our feeds.

when there is so much content at our fingertips, we eventually reach a point where we start consuming too much. our bellies are full, yet we keep eating. and once we go beyond what we can stomach, rather than gaining energy or nourishment, we simply store the excess. it weighs us down. we feel sluggish, drained, tired.

and in that state, we stop looking for what can inspire our art. instead, we compare. sometimes, we even drift into imitation: producing work that becomes derivative, a reinterpretation rather than something distinctly our own.

this is why finding a healthy balance between consumption and creation is vital. i’m among those who argue that you should be creating more than you consume. this allows you to take in just enough inspiration without overwhelming your soul. plus, it counteracts the inaction that comes from consuming in excess. the more time you spend scrolling, researching, listening to others, or sitting idle waiting for a spark, the less you actually create.

sometimes it’s just a matter of believing in yourself enough to become your own muse. sometimes the inspiration you’re searching for is already within.

it’s easy to get lost amidst the streets of sydney.

people often say the city is devoid of the culture that other major cities provide. people often complain that there’s not enough to do. or not enough to see.

these people are typically the more boisterous of the lot. those seeking thrills, parties and interactions. and these desires are often offset by the monotonous work culture that capitalism forces us to endure.

sydney is no stranger to this – it’s concrete jungles giving way to millions who work day and night just to get by. even the most enjoyable professions eventually lose their charm to the routine of it all.

the early morning wakeups,

the oat lattes,

the rattling train rides,

the clicking of heels on pavement,

the bumbling car engines,

and the slow elevator rides (that hopefully go all the way to the top).

if visualised, this routine would be washed grey, and the longing for more would take the form of rainbow accents, dancing in the background.

but for some, rather than seeking a thrill to offset the monotony – they’d prefer the quiet, something that can prove a difficult find in a world moved by sound. these are commonly known as third places. sanctuaries hidden in the corners of our daily lives.

cafes.

one of my favourite third places are cafes. these enclaves are often safe spaces in bustling cities. and i seek them out as if they were secret doorways in ornate mansions. i hop from cafe to cafe, in search of the right ambience.

there are a few criteria I have to ascertain whether a cafe holds up to my standards:

1. the interior. i am typically drawn to roomy spaces and modern interiors. white walls, earthy palettes, plants etc etc. and even if these things do not exist, i think it’s easy to tell when a real effort has been put into crafting a space conducive to providing safety for those who venture in.

2. sunlight. the more windows the better. a stream of sunlight as you sip on a drink of choice elevates the experience. it also makes for more productive study sessions or backdrops for work. and it’s often much needed after being trapped in windowless spaces.

3. the service. obviously, the better the service, the better the time. that is just simply a foundational principle of any business model. so cafes that cultivate an energy that makes you feel welcome is essential.

4. the actual noise level. if I’m at a cafe to find quiet, and I don’t find that quiet - that is a surefire way of the experience falling short.

5. and then last but not least, (and also an inevitable criterion), the coffee. this is, however, a very subjective point, because everyone enjoys their coffee differently. however, I am more of a matcha person, so I favour places that get this right. for me, that means a smooth consistency, no granules, slightly astringent (but not bitter), and bonus points for those places that use cozy ceramic cups.

i often find this in places such as chinatown country club in the sydney cbd - a warm escape from the crudeness of the concrete structures that surround it.

its wooden interiors, greenery and abstract golden lamps – with white walls and large homely windows bringing in light. the baristas welcome you with a smile, the noise level sits at a comfortable chatter, and the matcha is just right.

mother nature.

another of my favourite quiet places are parks. nature’s very own third place

to simply see a tree after being sat, hunched over at a desk, in a grey office space for hours on end, is truly a healing experience. similar criteria applies to that for cafes - the more open the space, the better; the sunlight plays such a crucial role in elevating the experience; the noise level can make or break the quietness (inevitably).

there is also something spiritual about lying down on a patch of grass. the ability to ground yourself in the middle of the day is an almost meditative practice. it can help you reorient your perspective on things. life can seem so small and insular when you’re trapped in man-made structures. everything opens up when you reconnect with nature.

after a long day of studying, I tend to find myself wandering down to victoria park, just a few minutes off my university’s campus. i think history hasn’t always been kind to this spot, but in the day, it truly is a beautiful place to be. especially when the sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, and friends are lounging on the grass. i used to journal there a lot, and pour my little heart out when it called to be heard. now I usually catch up with friends there (with a matcha never too far from my clutch).

film, art, music, and books.

the last third place to hide in, and potentially my favourite of them all, is under the shelter of film, art, music, and books. these cultural products are where true escapism can be found – in the worlds built by the words of authors, in the characters that take over our screens, in etches that cover a canvas, or the lyrics that paint melodies. This third place is intangible, but by design, perhaps more powerful than any tangible third place could hope to be. because it can transport you beyond your own reality, and help you make sense of experiences outside of your own.

and so, while the city is vast, looming, and sometimes a dark space – these third places provide refuge when the darkness feels all consuming. seek them out, and you’ll find your world brighten up for the better. 💌

since starting to write on substack, i’ve received many kind compliments about my writing and the courage i’ve had to share it. but there was a time when i was incredibly fearful of this.

i faced the age-old curse of imposter syndrome. growing up, reading, writing, and speaking were skills that came naturally to me. they were a toolset i felt almost magically compelled to pick up. yet my love for these was warped when i was confronted with the schooling system.

the rules, structure, and assessment of writing was something that stifled my creativity. it can be said that these exist to facilitate and support the actualisation of creativity — but i think this is more true for people to whom creativity does not come as naturally. for me, someone who had enjoyed writing candidly my entire life, i often lost my clarity of thought because my mind was shrouded in concern over how beautifully i caressed my words. how conventionally i structured my sentences. how neat my punctuation was.

and i find that incredibly problematic.

why?

because i think we lose so many incredibly gifted minds and thoughts amidst the pretentiousness of schooling. we are taught to value clean, manicured writing over the messiness and authenticity of profound thought.

in my personal life, i’ve had the pleasure of speaking to some of the most incredible minds. people who are genuinely thoughtful, introspective, and interesting in their outlook towards life or certain areas of interest. they might lack the verbosity or language to articulate those thoughts in the way that english class taught us to, but that does not make their ideas any less valuable. or they might be newer to the english language, and still developing their understanding of the grammatical requirements. and yet, these people may never feel the confidence to write their thoughts and share them with the world because the system told them they weren’t good enough. they received a c-minus on one essay in year 10 that now dictates their belief that they cannot think clearly or express themselves well.

i felt the exact same way after high school. i actually did well in english. it was one of my best subjects in school, but i think taking english extension one definitely played a part in corroding my confidence. not because of any one teacher, but because of the system itself.

not only is it designed to stifle creativity, but it also promotes competition. when it came to the hsc (final year exams), i was more concerned with writing to mechanical perfection in order to rank better than my peers, rather than immersing myself in the beauty of thought.

this is why i love communication and language. there is less restriction in conversational settings. you are free to be candid, free-flowing, and expressive in a way that truly reflects your inner being and thoughts.

you can convey things through speech that often gets lost within the confines of written works. there’s no word count. you can use your intonation, cadence, and inflections to colour the verbal tapestry. if face to face, you can move your hands, position your body, or complement your speech with the widening, squinting, or flitting of the eyes. or you can inject a smile here and there to brighten your delivery.

there are fewer confines, and more space to breathe.

however, i hope there is a world where we can appreciate the beauty of writing unbarred. i hope there is a world where more individuals feel empowered to write, without fear of imperfection. i hope there is a world where our schooling systems and writing structures foster a more supportive environment for people to realise that we are all writers.

we don’t speak with semicolons, and yet our speech is still understood. may our writing be just as free.

when i tell most people i have vitiligo, they say “oh! like michael jackson?” or “oh! that thing winnie harlow has”. to that i say “yes!”, but what people often don’t know is that vitiligo is much more variable than the mainstream media depictions of the condition.

and there was a time when i was in the dark too (no pun intended).

so to inform you about it, let me take you back in time.

it’s september 2023. i’m in the middle of the most intense last few weeks of my university semester: juggling assignments, exam preparation, working multiple jobs, all while managing a society campaign. i don’t think i’ve ever been more stressed than i was during that period. and at the time, i lacked the coping mechanisms that i’ve since developed to manage my anxiety. as well as the ability to say no. that was a big learning for me.

this was when i had my first glimpse of a white spot underneath my right eye. i didn’t think too much of it at the time. i thought it might have been a little bit of discoloration from a product i’d used or something. i ignored it until it started to grow larger. and larger. and larger. and then another patch developed under my left eye.

that’s when i started to get worried.

i asked my parents what they thought. i spoke to friends. everyone told me it was nothing to worry about. that it probably wasn’t anything at all.

i spoke to two gp’s and they both thought it was psoriasis. they prescribed me an anti-fungal treatment to apply under the eyes. but i was steadfast in my belief that it wasn’t. the patches weren’t itchy, or swollen, or inflamed, or textured. they were just discoloured. despite this, i followed their instructions and used the products over the course of a month, to no avail of course. because i had vitiligo.

a quick google search told me so. i did some more digging, reading up about the condition, and i honestly started to freak out. i was scared of losing my melanin.

the most interesting part of this all is that the pigment of my skin was something i grew up having a complicated relationship with already. it was never that i hated my skin colour, but moreso that i often wished it didn’t make me stand out as much. i’d since reached a level of confidence and solace in my differences over the years, but when i started to speculate that my skin changes were a product of vitiligo, i cried, and i cried. it was almost like i’d reverted back to square one in my confidence journey.

i was already different as it was - a young mixed-race girl with big, poofy curly hair, and skin that made me a salient figure in almost every australian crowd. so to add depigmentation to my list of differences, was to exacerbate all of the insecurities i’d harboured for so long in a world that wasn’t always accepting of them.

after almost a year of waiting for a specialist appointment (the healthcare system is truly in shambles), i finally saw one who confirmed everything i had been scared of. and yet i felt relieved. because i was no longer able to be gaslit into believing it was something else. i finally had a name to give it.

vitiligo: a condition in which the pigment is lost from areas of the skin, causing whitish patches, often with no clear cause.

“no clear cause”. some people say that stress can inflame it. i think this may have been true for me, because i’d never seen signs of vitiligo until the aftermath of what was one of the most stressful periods of my life. but my specialist was still unsure as to whether this was true.

she told me that the pigment loss is a result of my melanin cells essentially dying in those depigmented parts of the skin. it’s an autoimmune condition. what she could also say for certain was that the occurrence of vitiligo is like a genetic lottery. to have the condition, someone in your genetic line must have carried the vitiligo gene before you. i’m still unsure to this day who in my family had or has it. perhaps a distant relative.

i queried to her why i’d not had any vitiligo as a child, and only just now begun to experience it. she told me that no two cases are the same. some people get vitiligo when they’re young, and it grows, changes shape, and evolves with them over the course of their life. winnie harlow is an example of this.

others develop it later on in life. like michael jackson.

she told me that his case was a much more extreme version of it. most people with vitiligo generally experience depigmentation in a slower and more localised way. as opposed to being all over the body, vitiligo can also simply occur on one body part. an arm. or a leg. or under the eyes like mine.

but it still has the ability to spread, change shape, and evolve over your lifetime. and it often looks different for everyone.

however, it is also incurable. there is no definitive treatment that has proven effective for vitiligo. there are treatments that exist — like light therapy — but they are incredibly expensive, and can still prove ineffective in repigmenting the skin. even if the melanin comes back, it can often return in a different shade, or depigment again later on in life.

after that appointment, i was put on another treatment. it actually did help return the pigment to my under-eyes after almost six months. however, it’s not a product i could use long term, as the steroids in it could prove harmful to my health. so i stopped using it. in fact, i stopped using treatments altogether about 6 months ago.

the reason being was that i had finally accepted my fate. rather than fight a condition that had no guarantee of being cured, i decided to give in to it. i started to embrace it.

vitiligo has no other effects to one’s health than depigmentation. it’s not fatal or harmful in any other way than the appearance of a few small white patches which are now present on my hands, the back of my right leg, and underneath my left eyebrow.

and i now find them kind of cute. a lot of people have told me they’re cute too.

i actually remember telling a friend about my vitiligo, and they framed what i had often been insecure about in a much more beautiful light.

“how amazing. it’s more personal than any tattoo and piercing AND it evolves with you.”

i thought that was quite a poetic way of viewing it.

my vitiligo is something that will evolve with me as i age, as i develop, and as i become the woman of my dreams. my being and essence is unchanged by its presence. my value to the world is not reduced by the depigmentation of a few areas of my skin. it is now something i welcome as a uniqueness, rather than a defect.

and i’m excited to see how I vitilig-row with it :)

whether it’s romantic, platonic, familial or for thy neighbour - I’ve learned that to love is to let go.

letting go of your guards - your comfort, your pride, your ego. letting go of arguments, grudges, and preconceptions. letting go of insecurities, fears and doubts. letting go of structure, routine, and perfection.

these life-aids that we often clutch on to are, paradoxically, the very things we must release to love. you must let go to free up space within your soul, and make room for love to stay in.

for some, this trade-off isn’t worth it. the security of these guards takes precedence over love. the fear of letting go - losing control and being truly vulnerable - are far more important. this is what, in my opinion, breeds avoidance. i know this because i’ve been there. and because i’ve seen it in others one too many times.

for others, they understand that love is compromise. you make concessions. it’s all about letting go and letting in to love.

and then sometimes love is letting go of people.

letting go of people because you know it’s for the best.

letting go of people because you’re in different spaces.

letting go of people because heaven wants them back.

letting go of them, but never letting go of that love. that love exists in the space in between. and you’ll both carry that wherever you go.

high fidelity is probably one of my “desert-island, all-time top five favourite” books and book-to-film/television adaptations of all time.

it follows rob brooks — a 35-year-old record store owner who keeps a list of his own “desert-island, all-time top five most memorable break-ups,” and who, for some reason, cannot get over his past. or music, for that matter. he charts these breakups throughout the story in an obnoxious, stubborn, moody, and oftentimes insufferable fashion. but the ironic and witty narration makes for an incredibly entertaining read.

somehow, zoë kravitz manages to gender-flip this character and put a much more charismatic spin on brooks in her television-adapted portrayal. more than just diversity, she brings a spunk, edge, and emotional vulnerability that paints brooks’ constant whining in a more endearing light. she is an easier protagonist to root for. but maybe i’m biased. i do love zoë kravitz.

now, while i could do a whole separate article on this show, analysing each of the adaptations in great detail, that is not the point of this one. because the reason i’ve brought high fidelity up is to touch on one quote from the book, movie, and show that has seemed to stick with me for the longest time:

i remember when i first heard this, i giggled to myself in agreement. at that time, i thought it was, indeed, the absolute truth!

this was very much rooted in my upbringing. i grew up loving music and storytelling.

i have my dad to thank for that.

he used to sing with me in the womb. when i was out and a toddler, he used to sing with me on his lap. and as i’ve grown older, we’ve shared songs back and forth, written together, sung together, and he really laid the foundations for my music obsession.

for as far back as i can remember, my bookshelves were stacked with stories. he would buy me a new fairytale every day after work to add to my little collection. i’d be read to every night until i was five. this was when i started to read chapter books unattended.

i had a reputation for being somewhat of a real-life matilda at school. i’d read through books at lightning speed — so much so that my primary school librarian was constantly challenged to find new books in the library that i hadn’t read. we became quite close as a result, a special connection that i still look back on fondly to this day. i would often spend my breaks with her, perusing the shelves and trying to find a book i hadn’t already devoured.

with this steady foundation built, i’ve constantly had the desire to seek out music and storytelling on my own. i’ve spent much of my life scouring through music libraries, the internet, and record stores to find songs i love. i live much of my life with my headphones on — a bad habit i’m trying to break, but one that i think reflects the almost co-dependent attachment i have to music, and the desire to soundtrack every moment of my life.

while i admittedly no longer read as much as i’d like, i try. and where i fail in reading as much physical media as i’d like, i’ve definitely made up for in the consumption of digital media: films and television.

interestingly, there was a time when these interests defined me, and i felt that they had to also define the relationships i had in my life. i truly believed that a good relationship of any nature had to be rooted in shared interests. a friendship wouldn’t hold up if we didn’t like the same things; a talking stage would only work out if we shared common tastes in music, et cetera and so forth. because these things brought colour to my life. i loved the escapist element of storytelling, and loved to continue escaping reality through conversations centered around these worlds that were detached from my own — the worlds of my favourite songs, books, and films.

i began to realise that this belief — that shared interests in media were important in relationships — was much deeper than just that. it was my avoidance talking. it was almost like i didn’t want to exist in a world apart from those that i escaped into. i feared that relationships founded on more than escapist pursuits would force me to face my own reality.

but i’ve come to learn that it’s often the relationships in which your interests are different that bring the most joy, growth, and love into your life. they colour your life in a much richer and more inspiring way than any surface-level commonalities do.

rather than shine a mirror in your face, these relationships introduce you to new perspectives, new insights, and new understandings. they help you expand your world, as opposed to escaping it. striking a balance between the two has been a beautiful and welcome experience.

this is not to say that a few shared interests or commonalities are not helpful in building relationships. it’s often nice to see parts of yourself in another. however, i’m now of the belief that it is values and temperaments that are more determinative of compatibility. and as humans, i think we often need to be around people different from ourselves to avoid living in echo chambers that inevitably lead to complacency, stagnancy, and toxicity.

despite all this, books, records, and films still matter to me — but in less of a definitive way. i think they’re just beautiful sounding boards for relationships, rather than an essential checkbox.

and i do still think they are helpful in peering into the heart and soul of an individual. you can tell a lot about a person based on their letterboxd top four favourite films. and their spotify playlists or live listening activity. or by the book they’re parading around the town.

sure, it can sometimes be a little performative. but arguably, a huge chunk of our lives are pieces of performance art, so who really cares. like what you like.

all this to say, i want to share a list of some of my own “desert-island, all-time top five” most memorable pieces of media that really do matter to me — in the hopes that someone feels inspired to give them a spin, and maybe they’ll come to matter to you too.

books

1. harry potter and the goblet of fire - j.k. rowling

2. all about love - bell hooks

3. the secret - rhonda byrne

4. the girl with the dragon tattoo - stieg larson

5. the magic of thinking big - david schwartz

records

1. the miseducation of lauryn hill - lauryn hill

2. my everything - ariana grande

3. sweet sexy savage - kehlani

4. choose your weapon - hiatus kaiyote

5. cleo sol’s entire discography (can’t choose one! sorry xx)

films

1. scott pilgrim vs the world

2. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

3. fight club

4. amelie

5. love, rosie

(bonus list) tv shows

1. high fidelity

2. fleabag

3. daisy jones and the six

4. breaking bad

5. topboy

i hope these perhaps give you a little insight into my heart and soul.

much love,

kaela <3

For the longest time, I was addicted to high-intensity workouts. From sprinting, to HIIT, to soccer.

And I was pretty good at them too.

I think what I loved most about these forms of exercise was the battle. The roughness I’d feel throughout, and the toughness I’d feel on the other side. I equated pain to growth. I believed that true transformation required pushing past my limits, no matter the cost.

And these things are all true. High-intensity workouts are one of the best ways to achieve quick results. But they’re also the easiest path to burn-out. As soon as you stop, those “gains” disappear as quickly as they emerged.

This really hit me the most after high school. I’d grown up an incredibly sporty kid - decorated with medals and trophies that gave me such a rush. Back then, I thrived off performance — not just winning, but outdoing myself.

Whether it was breaking a new personal best, scoring a stellar goal, or finally beating the team we could never seem to conquer, the “trials and tribulations of high school football” (and other sports) were truly a highlight of my life at the time. But once I graduated, that structure — and that motivation — began to slip away.

Where I had once trained regularly, played matches every weekend, and followed a consistent routine, I now found myself exercising only sporadically. The shift to university and part-time work disrupted the rhythm I’d known for so long. It wasn’t impossible to maintain a workout routine, but life began to intervene more frequently — and eventually, so did my health.

Burnt out, I found myself uninspired and unmotivated. The lifestyle I once loved no longer called to me. I no longer had the drive to push myself so hard. More importantly, I no longer wanted to hurt my body in order to grow. I started seeking a form of movement that could support me without depleting me.

Initially, I turned to dance. Then pilates. Both of which I still love to this day.

But then I found yoga. And my whole world changed.

Yoga introduced me to a new philosophy of movement. One rooted not in performance or pain, but in mindfulness and breath. The spiritual foundation of the practice is something that’s felt in every posture and transition. Each class begins and ends with presence, grounding me not only in my body but in my mind.

I’ve walked into yoga classes with a clouded mind and tense limbs, only to leave with clarity and lightness. The process of physically unravelling my body in each pose often mirrors the unravelling of my internal worries.

As someone who struggles with anxiety, I’ve never found a quicker, more sustainable remedy for fear and tension.

Beyond how it makes me feel in the moment, yoga has shaped how I move through life. It’s taught me the value of slowing down, of acting with intention. I see it in the way I speak, the way I treat others, and the grace I now give myself on off days.

Because when you're in a state of flow — when all that matters is your breath and your body — you return to something primal, something pure. And when you emerge from that space, you begin to realise that many of the things that once seemed urgent — deadlines, notifications, expectations — carry far less weight than you thought.

In those moments, time softens. You find gratitude for the simplest things: your breath, your body, your mind, and your spirit.

The soft, energetic light that my body exudes throughout yoga makes it feel less like a chore and more like a blessing. Rather than dreading the next workout the way I used to, I crave the chance to stretch my body and my mind. And I still gain the benefits.

Only now, I do so without the burnout.