We don’t always find family where we first learned our name. Sometimes they arrive quietly later on with warm hands and listening hearts. They sit beside us without asking us to be anything else. And for a moment wherever we are we are not alone.

Today has been full in the best kind of way ❤️ hours of filming, learning as I go, and still sitting here gently piecing it all together. Editing is a slow dance when you’re new to it, but there’s something satisfying about watching the story take shape. The real gift was stepping outside. Sunshine on my face sketchbook in my hands, the Cornish sea crashing and breathing beside me. The wind tangled itself in my hair and for a little while I forgot about timelines and clips and simply drew.✏️☀️ Some days are busy, but they still leave space for beauty.🥰🍃 And today felt like a reminder that creativity doesn’t rush it moves with the tide.🌊

I’m opening a little poetry corner inside Smidgen of Calm. A place for words that don’t need to be perfect just honest. 🥰 Your always welcome to share poetry here whether it’s yours or something you think the group would be interested in. This one is about my journey so far and how this space has quietly connected me with creators all over the world. ❤️🖌️ A Smidgen of Calm I thought I was building something small, just a quiet corner on the internet, a place for noticing, for unfinished thoughts and half drunk cups of tea. I didn’t expect the world to walk in. I didn’t expect voices from different time zones, different lives, different stories to sit down beside me and say, me too. We arrived carrying different things burnout, hope, grief, curiosity, a pencil that hadn’t been used in years, a song that needed somewhere to land. And somehow, in this shared space, we softened. We listened. We remembered how to play. Not to impress. Not to perform. Just to be. Now when I open my screen, it feels less like logging on and more like opening a door. And every name I see is proof that creativity isn’t lonely at all it was only ever waiting for a place to gather.

Not the grand gesture, not the fireworks in the sky, not the roses lined in perfect rows. Just this. A quiet cup of tea cooling beside an open sketchbook. Light falling kindly across the page. Your breath settling. A smudge of charcoal. A wash of colour. A line that doesn’t need to be perfect to be enough. A smidgen of love tucked into the corner of your day. Folded between errands and ordinary moments. Love that says, “I will sit with myself.” “I will listen.” “I will make something, even if it’s small.” Because sometimes the bravest kind of love is not the loud kind. It is the soft decision to show up for your own becoming again and again and again. And that, dear heart, is more than enough. 🕊️

Growing is small things done again and again. A seed opening. A breath taken. A step forward. Some days you cannot see it. But underneath, roots are working. You are changing even when it feels slow. Nothing grows all at once. And that is okay.