It’s a gift to exist.

I heard these words in an interview on the radio as I pulled into my driveway on the eve of my 42nd year earthside (April 2nd). It gave me reason to take a long pause as I sat in my
car thinking about … well many of things. Life things. Heart things. Adoption things. Political things. Being human things.

So, I grabbed my journal from my bag and scribbled the following prose:

As the eve of her birthday descends, anticipation weaves through the air, like delicate strands of moonlight. Thoughts drift to the year gone by, a tapestry of moments awaiting celebration. In the hush of the night, the promise of growth and adventure beckons, wrapped in the quiet magic of anticipation.

I’ve always perceived my birthday as my personal New Year’s. More of a reflection than a celebration. A ritual of gratitude. A day to be with myself. An introspective ceremony to go deep, check in and ask myself – who am I becoming? And where am I going?

As my 41st trip around the sun comes to an end a wonderful new adventure (and year) is about to begin. And I’m so ready for this next year as I’m declaring it the start of my writing girl era. prioritizing my creative self and my writers craft.

In a sentimental gesture to ease into this declaration to myself I clicked “publish” on the manuscript of my first poetry collection, Mad Love: Volume 1. It sure has been a long time coming. The poems are from 2010-2014 whilst living in Melbourne. I typed them up in 2015. Then life kept happening. I made excuses. Then the pandemic hit and I thought it would be a good project. In 2021, I asked my pal, Lee, to do the artwork. Then life happened (again). I started other projects none of which involved writing. I made some more excuses. Until I realized that there is never a good time for anything and the only way I was going to get my work out there is if I just did it. So I got out of my own way – coming to learn that in doing so I was the one creating a barrier to experiencing my own joy.

Turning 42 marks a significant milestone in my life, as it symbolizes the convergence of experience and aspiration. This year represents the culmination of a dream planted in my youth—to become the writer my 16-year-old self envisioned. With each passing year, my passion for storytelling has only deepened, and now, at this juncture, I am driven more than ever to fulfill my publishing goals. It’s a journey fueled by determination, fueled by the desire to breathe life into the narratives that have resided within me for so long. As I embark on this chapter of my life, I carry with me the wisdom gained from decades of living, infusing my writing with layers of depth and authenticity. This year is not just about reaching a personal goal; it’s about embracing the journey of becoming the writer I’ve always wanted to be.

Launching my first book during my birthday month and National Poetry Month feels like a serendipitous alignment of stars. It’s a poignant moment where my journey as a writer intertwines with the collective celebration of creativity and expression.

So yes, it is a gift to exist. The gift of existence is a precious treasure, and each birthday serves as a gentle reminder of the beauty and privilege of another trip around the sun. It’s a moment to reflect on the myriad experiences, challenges, and joys that have shaped the journey thus far. With each passing year, we gather more memories, forge deeper connections, and discover new facets of ourselves. Birthdays are not just markers of time; they are celebrations of life itself—a testament to resilience, growth, and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.

And this is just some of the emotion and intention that I hope to have captured in my first piece of published work.

Mad love from this fiery, fierce and fortunate Aries xo