The Story I Never Meant to Write
And how it led me somewhere I didn’t expect
What is present for me right now is the art of creativity.
Why? Well, so many reasons…but most immediately, because I am writing a book.
A story of my life as a wife to my FIFO husband.
A story that stretches over 24 years,
4 states, 3 countries and 2 children.
But truthfully…
It is not the story I would be writing.
Two years ago, I felt the pull to write something more than articles that fill my blog. I have always loved to write…deeply.
It is, in part, how I come to understand myself.
Through writing, something larger begins to take shape.
The unspoken finds its language
The unseen reveals its context.
And yet, what I set out to create and what is now unfolding…
are not the same thing.
At first, I thought this book would be a meeting place,
A reflection of the spiritual path, where others might recognise themselves in the words.
The phases we move through.
The isolation.
The shifts that are difficult to explain, yet deeply felt.
Something simple.
A place to land and think, “Oh…I’ve felt that too.”
And the pages came together easily.
Half of the book, already written.
But then…the energy disappeared.
Not dramatically, just a quiet loss of interest.
A sense that something wasn't quite aligned.
Maybe you have felt that before.
When something works, but doesn’t move you.
When it serves a purpose, but not your deeper pull.
I could see why.
It was practical.
Useful.
Even strategic.
But what I was really longing for was something else entirely…
To create something beautiful.
Without needing it to serve.
Without needing it to be anything.
And so, I let it fall away.
(P.S. This book idea is great and I still might produce it, but it wasn’t the work that would quench my thirst.)
In that space, something softer emerged.
With a quiet longing to create something beautiful,
I found myself choosing it physically:
A gold embossed diary.
A pen.
A book bag.
Simple things…but intentional
A gesture.
A devotion.
A reminder that something within me was ready to be met differently.
At first, the commitment was simple: to write something beautiful each day.
Nothing more.
On the first day, I wrote about a sunset I had almost missed.
Driving over the Tasman Bridge, caught in thought…
Until the sky interrupted me
Something about it…
the colours, the stillness, the quiet brilliance
pulled me out of myself.
Later that night, in prayer, it returned.
“Thank you, God, for the sunset tonight…”
A quiet awe at the intelligence behind it, the landscape, the light, the exact moment that allowed something so fleeting to exist.
That something could be created so long ago, only to meet me in a single moment and open something within me.
And in that reflection, something shifted
A stream of awareness…
that creation, at its highest, is not rushed or reactive,
but precise…intentional…timeless.
What we might call God, Higher Intelligence Or simply the Universe.
the ultimate creator, setting something in motion, long before we are ready to receive it.
A reminder, echoed through the Lineage of King Salomon, that we are here not only to witness life…but create within it.
To move beyond the rhythm of function and routine,
And remember something more innate.
That we are not separate from creation,
But participants in it.
The next day, it was my daughter’s voice.
Unfiltered.
Unafraid.
Expressing without hesitation.
And again, something opened.
There is a space between expectation and expression, where something true exists
Free from shaping.
Free from judgment.
It was from that space that something new began to arrive.
Not as a plan.
But a quiet knowing.
Captivated by the evanescence, sophistication, and spellbound by the divine expression…
the next day, out of the blue, I received the perfect idea of how to tell my personal story.
And maybe you have felt it too…
That moment when something lands, not because you forced it; but because you finally made space for it.
A different way of creating begins to open here.
One that isn’t concerned with outcomes or whether it will lead anywhere.
Just a space
Without judgement
Where something can move.
And it’s surprisingly freeing.
To create simply to see what unfolds.
To follow what sparks, rather than what makes sense.
There is a vulnerability in that, though.
Because when you stop controlling the direction, you also open the door to what has been kept hidden.
The thoughts you’ve softened. The truths you’ve placed quietly to side.
And the question becomes: Are you willing to meet them?
Not to fix.
Not to refine.
But to simply let them be seen.
There is a strange duality here…
A subtle fear and an equal sense of excitement.
So maybe the question isn’t “What is this for?”
But something quieter…
“What is trying to come through me, now that I’ve stopped deciding for it?”
Because creativity, in its essence, is not fixed.
It is a skill: one that softens, deepens, and evolves when it is given space to be nourished.
Ideas arrive as invitations.
What begins as something small, uncertain, almost insignificant
can become something entirely different, if you allow it.
Like the sunset, certain in its rhythm,
yet never the same twice.
It must happen.
And yet, the colours, the reflections,
the quiet interplay of light.
they reach beyond function.
They stir something deeper.
They lift us, even briefly. Out of the noise of our own thinking.
And perhaps…
that is artistry.
No pressure. Just space to listen more closely.