Where to begin?
I guess at the beginning is the logical answer. But which one?!
The latest big beginning has been my move to a lovely little outback-ish town called Chinchilla. It’s a comfy three-and-a-half-hour drive from Brisbane and far enough away to really make me question whether it’s worth an entire day of driving back and forth. For a while, making the pilgrimage back for essential rituals—like an appointment with my dearly beloved hairdresser Amy at Kew Hair Studio or indulging my soul’s need to sink my feet into the ocean—was non-negotiable. Worth it. Absolutely.
But as time has passed, those urgencies have softened. Priorities reshuffle. And now, my focus is much more about being present where I am, loosening the grip of my self-imposed ‘must-haves,’ and leaning into the quiet allure of the unfamiliar. This, of course, is the genesis of something inevitable: the question of what, or where, home truly is.
There are plenty of trite platitudes and proverbs to go around—home is where the heart is, wherever I hang my hat is home, blah blah blah. But none of them quite capture the delicious, terrifying reality of transition. Home isn’t just a place; it’s an ever-evolving relationship with the spaces we inhabit, the people we let in, and, ultimately, the version of ourselves that we’re becoming. Because if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s this: we are always becoming.
Endings and beginnings are, of course, part of the same breath. One exhale, one inhale. One chapter closes, another starts before we’ve even realized the last one has ended. We think we have neat bookends to life’s experiences, but in truth, we’re just tumbling forward in an unbroken stream of change, pretending we know where we’re going. The good news? Nobody else really knows either.
For me, moving to Chinchilla has been an exercise in embracing this uncertainty. It’s one thing to understand, intellectually, that life is in constant motion. It’s another thing entirely to live it—to feel it in your bones, in the quiet moments of doubt and exhilaration. To wake up and realise that yesterday’s home is now a memory, and today’s home is still introducing itself to you.
So, where do we begin? Right here, right now, in the middle of an ending that’s simultaneously a beginning. We begin by surrendering to the process, by allowing the new to carve its space without rushing to define it. We begin by admitting that we don’t have all the answers—but we’re willing to show up anyway.
Because, really, what other choice do we have?
Journal Prompts
Complete which ever of these sentences resonate with you, to explore your own relationship with endings, beginnings, and change. Perhaps you may choose to lean in to any that feel a bit crunchy…
The last time I embraced a new beginning, I felt...
One thing I am ready to release from my past is...
My definition of home is...
Change feels easier when I remember that...
Some of my non-negotiables are...
If I fully embraced the unknown, I would...