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.