The Quiet Compass: Living with Integrity

There’s a quiet kind of discomfort that comes with doing what’s right.
It’s not dramatic — it’s that small twist in your chest that says, this doesn’t sit right with me.

Recently, I felt that again. A bookkeeping client made choices that didn’t align with my values. It wasn’t my responsibility to fix it, yet I carried the tension. For years, I’ve stepped in to smooth things over, but this time, I stopped myself. I reminded myself that my integrity lies in how I do my work — not in taking on what isn’t mine.

It wasn’t easy. Integrity rarely is.
But I’ve learned that discomfort doesn’t mean I’m doing something wrong — it often means I’m doing what’s right.

For a long time, I thought integrity meant doing everything perfectly — never missing a step, never letting anyone down. Now I see it differently. Integrity is alignment — matching what I believe with how I act.

When I stand in alignment, I may not please everyone, but I feel at peace. And that calm is worth far more than comfort or approval.

Living and working on the road has made this lesson even clearer. There’s no neat line between life and work anymore — they blend into one continuous flow. Whether I’m painting, editing a video, or managing a client’s books, I can feel when I’m out of sync. Integrity shows up in the small things: where I park, how I spend my time, what I say yes to.

Sometimes it means saying, “I’ll do this, but within my limits.” Other times, it means trusting that I don’t need to fix everything.

Integrity runs through creativity, too. It’s in painting what feels true instead of what sells, and in writing honestly, even when it’s uncomfortable. When I create from that place, everything flows easier — the work feels lighter, clearer, more me.

Choosing integrity means choosing freedom — the freedom of not carrying what isn’t yours. It’s the peace of knowing you’re living in alignment with what matters most.

Each time I choose honesty over ease, I feel more connected to the life I’m building. Integrity has become my quiet compass — guiding me in work, art, and life on the road.
It doesn’t need to shout. It simply points me back to what feels right.

When was the last time you felt that quiet nudge that something wasn’t right — and listened to it?

Creative Living Isn’t Linear

When I first set out to build a creative life, I thought it might follow a neat, upward path. Do the work, stay consistent, and things will naturally expand. And yes, there’s truth in that. But what I’ve discovered is that creative living isn’t linear at all — it’s more like a spiral.

Last week was a perfect example. One day I felt completely in flow — walking the coastal sculpture trail, filming along the way, enjoying the process of being both present and creative at the same time. The next day I spent hours editing, and while the video came together beautifully, it felt more structured, more effort than flow. Later in the week, creativity showed up in unexpected forms: a simple morning sketch, or even half an hour of admin that cleared space in my head for the next project.

Even the smallest moments taught me something. Stopping for lunch with ocean views reminded me that presence fuels creativity as much as output does. A hot shower after a week without one felt like pure joy — not “productive” in the usual sense, but deeply nourishing. And on the flip side, pushing too hard with video work left me drained, while poor food choices reminded me how much energy and creativity are connected.

This is the spiral. I circle back to the same lessons: honouring my energy, balancing structure with flow, learning when to push and when to pause. Some days I nail it, some days I don’t — but none of it is wasted. Each loop widens the circle, showing me that growth often comes in revisiting familiar ground with new awareness.

Creative living isn’t linear. It’s messy, repetitive, beautiful, and alive. And maybe that’s the point — not to move in a straight line, but to keep circling back, learning a little more each time, and trusting that the spiral is carrying me exactly where I need to go.

A perfect moment in time

A Perfect Moment in Time

How often do we pause long enough to notice when life feels… perfect?

Right now, in this very moment, my life feels complete. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, I’m surrounded by quiet bushland at a free campsite, and Abby is curled up peacefully after yesterday’s long drive. Nothing more is needed.

So, I stop. I breathe it in. How does it feel? What do I hear? What scents are in the air? What little details are before my eyes? I let myself be fully here, soaking it in so I can carry it with me. Later, when I need a moment of peace, I’ll be able to return to this memory like a gentle touchstone.

We often spend our lives wishing for moments like these, but when they arrive, it’s easy to miss them—our minds racing ahead, wishing they’d last forever. But that’s not their nature. Moments shift, seasons change. This one will end, just as all do.

And that’s okay. Because the beauty of life isn’t in holding on—it’s in noticing, savoring, and trusting that there will be more. More sunshine, more quiet evenings, more perfect moments waiting to surprise us if only we pause long enough to notice them.

Life isn’t about clinging to what is fleeting. It’s about living fully in what is here, right now.

When was the last time you paused to notice a perfect moment?

Living Beyond the “What If’s”

What If???

“What if you get sick? What if you break a leg? What if you can’t live in a van anymore? What about when you get old? What about when you’re 80?”

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had some wonderful conversations with women further along in life’s journey. And more than once, these conversations have been sprinkled with “What if’s.” I also see them often in the comments under my YouTube videos.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how society has taught us to look at aging with fear instead of curiosity, and at new paths with suspicion rather than excitement? Why is it that we’re so quick to imagine everything that could go wrong, instead of everything that could go right?

What if we have the adventure of a lifetime?
What if we feel a freedom we’ve never felt before?
What if we let ourselves be happy?
What if we simply live — really live — and experience all that life has to offer?

Yes, you can play it safe. You can surround yourself with comfort, predictability, and security. But you can also choose to stretch your boundaries, take chances, and discover the magic that only exists outside your comfort zone.

For me, choosing the latter has changed my life. Writing this blog didn’t come naturally at first — I had to be uncomfortable with putting my thoughts into the world until one day, it became second nature. Living in my van also felt strange at first, but now it feels like home.

The truth is, I’ll deal with the “what if’s” when they happen. So far, the good “what if’s” have far outweighed the scary ones. And as long as I’m breathing, I intend to keep saying yes to them — because life is meant to be lived, experienced, and enjoyed.

Are you holding yourself back because of a “what if”? Or are you ready to lean into possibility and see what unfolds?

Believe in Yourself: The Leap of Faith That Changed My Week

Believe in Yourself

The idea for today’s blog came as I was driving through beautiful rolling hills and forests. My thoughts drifted to how I’ve felt this week—what has been driving my actions, how I keep going, and why I continue to try new things and challenge myself.

It all comes down to one thing: I believe in myself.

Actually, it’s more specific than that—I believe in my ability to figure things out.

This week I flipped my schedule upside down. For the first time ever, I prioritized creativity during the day and moved my work into the evenings. I had never even considered this before. It goes against everything we were taught growing up: work first, play later.

But what if I play first?

Would the work still get done?

It turns out, not only did I finish everything, but I discovered something unexpected. With Abby sleeping peacefully in the evenings, I had uninterrupted time to work. The focus was easier, the flow stronger.

This shift in my schedule felt like a leap of faith—but I took it because I believed in myself. I trusted I could make it work. I trusted I could deal with challenges as they arose. I trusted I could figure it out.

And here’s the beautiful thing: believing in yourself is really an act of self-love. It’s saying, “I’ve got me. I trust me.”

Do you love yourself enough to believe in you? You might be surprised at how amazing you truly are when you do.

Living by Curiosity

Curiosity has always been the thread running through my life. It’s what keeps me trying new things, chasing adventures, and experimenting with different ways to live and be. I’m forever asking myself: What would happen if I tried this? What if I did it differently? What if I didn’t do it at all?

That wondering has never slowed down—in fact, I think I’m more curious now than ever. There are so many possibilities waiting to be explored, and curiosity is what keeps me stepping into them.

Right now, my curiosity is circling around travel and creativity. How will I balance it all when I’m on the move? How will my work get done? How will I film videos, paint, write my book, play with Abby, and still leave space for just being?

Instead of letting those questions overwhelm me, I’m choosing to treat them as an experiment. For the next three weeks, I’ll be testing out a new rhythm. At the end, I’ll evaluate—keep what works, let go of what doesn’t, and adjust again if needed.

That’s the beauty of curiosity: there’s always another path, another option, another way forward. It’s less about having the perfect plan and more about staying open to discovery.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it’s what keeps me truly alive.

When was the last time you let curiosity guide your next step?

Life isn’t that serious

A lot of the joy I experience in life comes from my ability to laugh at myself. I don’t take myself too seriously — and I definitely don’t take life too seriously.

In my latest video, I shared the process of painting the ceiling in my van. I had so much fun doing it, even though it’s nowhere near finished. In fact, it will probably go through many changes before I decide on something I really like. But here’s the point: I just gave it a go, without worrying about how it would turn out.

It’s only paint — if I don’t like it, I can always paint over it. That’s the beauty of it. It’s not that serious. Most things in life aren’t.

The same is true in everyday life. Just yesterday, I stepped out of the van with Abby for a walk, and the moment my feet hit the ground, the heavens opened up and it poured with rain. I couldn’t help but laugh — I was already drenched, so why fight it? Sometimes the best thing you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the moment and keep going.

If you mess up, laugh and move on. If you do something that feels embarrassing, laugh and move on. Lightening up can bring so much joy back into life. Ask yourself: is it really that important?

Does the color of my ceiling really matter? No — it’s just a ceiling. What matters most is that it’s my ceiling, and the only opinion that counts is mine.

So, how about you? Do you laugh at yourself when things don’t go as planned, or do you criticize yourself? Do you try new things without worrying if they’ll be perfect? Do you ever do something purely for the fun of it?

✨ Share a moment in the comments where you laughed at yourself or turned a “messy” situation into joy — I’d love to hear your stories.

Life is not that serious.

Staying Present While Planning the Future

This week has been about walking that fine line between being in the present and planning for the future. It’s not always easy to do.

Right now, I’m tying up the last of the loose ends and appointments I need before setting off on a big trip across Australia. It’s exciting to think about, and my mind naturally wants to race ahead to what’s coming next. But in that rush toward the future, it’s easy to forget what’s here now.

We often think happiness lives in the future — that once we’ve reached that trip, that dream, that milestone, then we’ll finally feel content. But the truth is, the future doesn’t really exist. The only place we ever actually live is here, in this moment.

And sometimes this moment isn’t what we want it to be. It might feel uncomfortable, or dull, or not where we’d rather be. But resisting it doesn’t change it — it only creates tension. The more we can accept it, the more we can find gratitude for something within it, the more peaceful we become.

The future may hold adventures we’ve dreamed of for years. But right now, this moment is our life.

So I ask you:
✨ What can you enjoy now?
✨ What are you grateful for in this very moment?

Because this — not the future — is where your life is happening.

Freedom in the Flow – How My Calendar Helped Me Let Go of Guilt

We are all seeking balance in our lives. We want to feel we have enough time to do the things we want to do while still attending to the things we have to do.

I’ve been searching for that balance for as long as I can remember — and I think I’ve finally found it.

One thing I’ve learned is that balance isn’t static. It’s flexible, like a see-saw, tipping one way and then the other. Every day, week, and month will never be exactly the same, and that’s okay.

The real shift for me came when I created a schedule that not only worked with my natural rhythms but also allowed for flexibility. This was something I had never included before.

Previously, I would have every hour of every day scheduled. If I needed to add something in or something didn’t get done at its designated time, I would panic and shut down. Often, I’d end up scrolling endlessly on my phone, achieving nothing.

Now, I have built-in flexibility — free afternoons to schedule what’s important that week or carry over tasks from the week before. I even have a buffer day to catch up on small things.

Because of this new schedule — and the fact that it works — I no longer feel guilty when I choose to do something relaxing, even if there’s something else my mind thinks is “more important.” Everything has its time and place, and I’ve proven to myself that the important things will get done.

This change didn’t happen overnight. It’s taken daily reflection, small adjustments, and a willingness to listen to my own energy. But it’s all been worth it.

Life has never been better. I’m doing all the things I love, at a pace that feels good, and for the first time in a long time… I feel balanced.

Creative flow and gentle progress

This past week, something beautiful has happened — things are starting to feel... normal.

Waking up to sketch, writing blog posts, responding to emails, painting during the day, even keeping on top of admin — it no longer feels like something I’m trying to do. It feels like something I do. This is my creative life now, and it fits.

I’ve learned a lot about pacing myself over the past few weeks. I don’t have to push to prove I’m committed. I just have to show up consistently and honour my energy. I’ve rearranged my weekly rhythm to reflect that — two full creative days, three admin sessions, and space to rest and reset.

This week, I released my very first newsletter (finally!) and was blown away by the kind responses. The last bookmark sold just hours after it went out. I’ve since uploaded four new original artworks and a set of five handmade cards to the shop. My collection is slowly growing, and each piece brings a little more colour and joy into the world.

Golden Whisper

My inspiration was to bring some summer warmth to a cold winters day,

I’ve also continued my morning sketch game — this week it’s Goats and it’s still just as fun. My midday watercolour reset is turning into a favourite part of the day. A way to switch gears, pause, and breathe.

Simple 15 minute sketch!

No pressure, just create!

That said, I noticed something today that I want to work on. When I have the thought that I should be doing something — like writing a blog post — but don’t feel like doing it in that moment, instead of switching to something I do want to do (like painting), I sometimes end up scrolling on my phone. It’s a mix of guilt and procrastination, and I’m learning to recognize it. Awareness is the first step. I don’t need to force myself — I just need to stay connected to my energy and choose what feels aligned.

Here’s to building a life that feels good on the inside, not just looks good on the outside.

Thanks for being here.

With a creative heart,
Brenna

Do you really not have time?

Last week I wrote about change — how sometimes it’s not a big event but a quiet shift in how we move through the day.

This week I’ve been exploring one of the biggest stories we tell ourselves:

“I don’t have time.”

It’s easy to say we’re too busy for creativity, too tired, too distracted. But is it really true?

I’ve made a conscious choice this past week to stop waiting for the “right time” to create. Instead, I’ve started weaving small creative moments throughout my day — and it’s been wonderful.

Kookaburra sketch

My favourite way to start the day!

My mornings now begin with a lighthearted sketching game (it sounds more fun than calling it a challenge). After my meditation and journaling, I set a 15-minute timer and do a quick sketch — no pressure, no perfection, just presence and play. I even pre-selected reference photos for the week so there’s no thinking involved, just pick up the pencil and go. This week’s subject: kookaburras! And I’ve even got a friend joining in, which makes it even more joyful.

Around lunchtime, I take another 15 minutes for quick watercolour landscapes. Again, it’s not about making a masterpiece — it’s about pausing, playing, and feeling that spark that comes when I’m creating just for the fun of it. It's time I might otherwise spend scrolling.

And the result? I feel more me. More grounded, more energised, more creatively fulfilled.

So I’ll ask you —
Do you really not have time?
Or could you find 15 minutes to reconnect with something that lights you up?

You might be surprised by what comes alive in that space.

“I Hear You, But I’m Not Listening”

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how much our own thoughts can hold us back. As I work toward my creative goals, I’ve had to face the quiet voice that tells me to stop or slow down—and learn how to move forward anyway. Here’s what I’ve discovered…

Change is difficult.

I’ve decided to go after my creative goals and see what I can truly achieve. While I dream about the future, I feel the past trying to hold me back—past habits, past thoughts, past routines.

If I want to move forward, I need to let go of the past. I need to think differently, act differently, and—most importantly—feel differently. To achieve my dreams, I need to feel as if they’ve already happened.

While I work on this, a little voice in my head keeps whispering: “You’re tired, you should stop.” Or “Leave it for tomorrow.” Or “You’ve done enough today, no need to do more.” These thoughts are strong and persuasive, but today I laughed at them and said out loud: “I hear you, but I’m not listening.”

Awareness of these thoughts—and their seductive pull—is the first step to real change.

So, when that little voice says ‘stop,’ smile and take one more step. Your future self is cheering you on.

Finally letting go and moving on.

For the past five years, I’ve been holding onto a storage unit filled with pieces of my “just in case” life. You know the kind—boxes of kitchenware, furniture, exercise equipment, a few sentimental items... things I might need someday.

But someday never came. And I’ve come to realize it probably never will.

This month, I made the decision to let it all go. Everything.

I’m selling what I can, donating the rest, and closing that storage unit door for the last time.

It’s a big breakthrough for me—not just practically, but emotionally. I used to tell myself I was being smart by saving those things. But the truth is, I was clinging to a version of life that no longer fits who I am now.

I live in my van. Everything I need is right here with me. If I ever truly need something again, I’ll find a way to get it. In the meantime, I’ve been carrying the weight—literally and mentally—of things that don’t serve my life anymore.

Letting go has brought a surprising lightness. A sense of freedom I didn’t even know I was craving. It’s not just about the stuff. It’s about giving myself permission to move on.

And as a bonus? I’m generating a bit of income by selling some of the items—and saving $120 a month in storage fees. That’s money I can put toward art supplies or new creative adventures. Now that feels aligned.

Minimalism, for me, isn’t about restriction. It’s about clarity. It’s about living fully with what matters—and letting the rest fall away.

If you’ve been holding onto “just in case,” I get it. Truly. But maybe—just maybe—you already have everything you need.

Here’s to lightening the load.

A new beginning

I’ve been on the road a lot lately, and somewhere along the way, something shifted.

The wide skies, quiet mornings, and long drives gave me the space to hear a voice I hadn’t been listening to closely enough—my own. I realized I want to live differently now. The version of vanlife I used to live doesn’t quite fit anymore. I’m not chasing movement the way I used to; I’m chasing meaning. Creation. Connection.

I want to spend more time making art. More time filming. More time writing blog posts like this. These things aren’t just hobbies anymore—they feel like essential parts of who I’m becoming.

A quiet moment on the road—where new thoughts began to take shape.

And that’s the thing—I am becoming someone new. Or maybe I’m finally becoming who I was always meant to be. But stepping into that version of myself means letting go of the old one. Letting go of the way I used to do things. Of patterns, comforts, and habits that no longer serve me.

Change is awkward. There’s no getting around that. But I trust that what feels strange today will one day feel natural—my new normal. This isn’t the first time I’ve redefined myself, and I doubt it will be the last. But something about this moment feels right. It feels like a beginning.

I’ve just launched my website, and with it, a new way to share, connect, and be seen. That’s exciting—and a little scary—but mostly it feels like exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

So if you’re reading this, thank you. You’re witnessing my first step into something new. I hope you’ll stick around for the journey.