Lately, I’ve had a lot of conversations with old friends who feel like they need to ‘heal’ or ‘do better.’ Personally, I don’t like the word heal. To heal implies we are sick. Life isn’t about sickness — it’s about growth. We’re like snakes, constantly shedding old skins that no longer fit us. These skins might take the form of relationships, jobs, friends, personalities, or hobbies. Shedding them can bring grief or bliss, depending on what we’re letting go of and how great our attachment is to it. But whatever it is, it’s okay to feel all the feels, just don’t let them define you for the rest of your life.

Life is both beautiful and chaotic — a crazy mix of highs and lows, joy and pain, fear and love. We all have moments when it feels like the ground is crumbling beneath our feet. These moments, no matter how hard, signal the start of a new phase. Transformation is the heart of life, and as the saying goes, no mud, no lotus. Without the mud, the lotus doesn’t bloom. Without shedding our layers, we don’t grow or move forward. Yes, I get it, sometimes we don’t want to… but we have to.

More often than not, we resist change, clinging to what we know, even when it no longer serves us. Even when it’s clear, deep in our hearts, that it’s time to move on, but we stay. We might even repeat the same cycle in a different situation, but life keeps throwing lessons our way — growth points, chances to shine. Change is inevitable; how we handle it is up to us. Things need to fall apart. Old versions of ourselves need to die so something new can emerge. Growth can be messy, uncomfortable, and uncertain, but it’s necessary.

It’s really easy to get attached to old versions of ourselves— when we were fitter, younger, more successful, or held a certain job. Those labels might bring a sense of comfort, I mean, who are we without them? I try not to label myself or others, though it’s hard because labelling is so ingrained in society. We label people to make sense of their situations, but what are we really trying to make sense of? We’ll never truly know someone’s struggles or joys, we can only see them through our own life lenses, even then, we only know the version they choose to share with us.

I’ve always found it fascinating how people answer the question, “Who are you?” When I taught primary school, the kids would say, “I’m a soccer player” or “I’m a dancer,” identifying themselves by things that won’t last forever, or things they need to prove. I’d ask them, “So, if you couldn’t play soccer anymore, who would you be?” Because the truth is, we don’t do the same things forever, and we need to flow with that. So who am I? I’m a soul in a temporary skin suit, having a human experience. (Not exactly something I could teach in school!) But we do get attached to our identities, and when something changes, it can be hard to let go.

We tend to judge and label ourselves and others. But those judgments? That’s where suffering begins. We are often our own worst enemies. Would you talk to your friends the way you talk to yourself? Probably not. I definitely wouldn’t.

You lose your job, and maybe you feel like you’ve failed or aren’t good enough. But what if losing that job turns out to be the best thing that ever happened? What if it leads you to reskill, start that business you’ve always dreamed of, meet someone who changes your life, or create a better work-life balance?

Your body doesn’t hold up like it used to, you’ve always been a runner. You suffer because you can’t imagine life without it. Maybe it’s time to try yoga or swimming. Who knows, you might become a yoga instructor or take up triathlons and build a whole new circle of friends.

Life is full of highs and lows, and the reality is, we can’t have one without the other. The highs are so sweet because we know what it’s like to be in the depths of the lows. That balance — the dance between light and dark — is what makes life truly worth living.

You have a succesful business and a lot of work teaching, life seems good from the outside, but you’re yearning for something more. You quit your job, move in to your van and take off around Australia to see what will happen next…. Then you end up in South America for seven months, coming back to Australia with no money but a huge smile and a happy heart. Oh wait, that’s me. I still don’t know what’s next, but I’m creating and working on it. I trust that it’s going to be great!!!

As a tour guide, every few weeks, I meet a new group of travellers who come to experience Australia. They come from all over the world, each with their own stories. Everyone you meet has a past — widows, cancer survivors, people facing unimaginable loss, first solo travel or the fear that everything in Australia will kill you (yet they still come!) Some of those struggles seem smaller on the surface than others, but they’re all relative. Pain is pain, nerves are nerves. It’s not about comparison. With great loss often comes greater resilience, but that doesn’t mean smaller struggles aren’t significant. And honestly, to all the Canadians worried about the spiders you’ll never see here, you have bears! You literally hike and camp with bears! We have koalas, and a whole heap of other cute and bizarre animals!

When everything feels like it’s falling apart, we need to trust that something new is on the horizon. Every breakdown creates space for something greater. Fighting change only leads to more pain. The only way out is through, and when we accept that, the path forward becomes clearer. Sometimes it’s as clear as mud, my strategy is to just keep adding water (meditation, good food, exercise) and it’ll slowly get clearer!

One important thing I really want to get across, to all those starting on this path of deep self-awareness and discovery, is this: There is no quick fix, no magic pill, no single ceremony or course that will ‘fix you’. Remember, you are not broken, you are human. The work is never done, and yes, it’s sometimes hard, but it’s worth it. You might try therapy, energy work, breath work, yoga, meditation, or ceremonies — but this path has no end when you deeply commit. The work is gradual, with layers that keep appearing and shedding. It’s the beauty, the strength, and the vulnerability in the process that we need to deeply respect and connect to. Growth isn’t linear, and we need to embrace every step of it, even when it’s uncomfortable.

We’re all in this together. Everyone you see has been, is, or will be going through something difficult. It’s just a part of being alive. Take comfort in the fact that none of us really know what we’re doing! Let the hard times nourish your roots. Trust that you will rise. And remember — no mud, no lotus.