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when making fills my enough tank.

Books, Boards and our little shack.

There are many days in my creative journey that suck the life out of our inspiration tank.

At the moment I am calling it my “enough tank”

“I don’t have enough”

“enough is enough”

“That’s enough”


You know the little void in our souls that I am talking about. It is the place that depletes sometimes so slowly and then randomly it can evaporate before we have even finished our coffee. Then out of the blue it explodes and we are inspired, overcome and intentional. Then as quickly as it filled, a leak is found and we deflate all over again.

The weather can impact my enough-ness, A full lists of tasks can sap my enough of its energy, sometimes people, too many stories, too much stuff, too much toddler-ing. Some days as I wade through facebook looking for my tank to fill, I realise that humanity has just vomited over me and I need to put a cleaner in my tank and start again.

There are some things, no matter how full or empty my enough is, that steadily clarify the inspiration I am looking for.

For each of us, these things are different.

For each of us our enough lines are varied and unique.

For each of us the inspiration elixirs can be stunningly opposing.

I like to pull down my blind, light a candle, read, put on music and think.

My enough tank is filled with big patches of water, that ripple and make me feel small.

When I fly into a country or city I have never been before, it is like my enough tank takes a deep breath of sensory overload and I feel inspiration dripping from my finger tips. My mind yells “get me a keyboard, get me a keyboard” my fingers are tingling with words.

When I eat ice cream on a hot day cooling my internal combustion operators.

When I feel sand crunching through my toes or the ocean envelope my whole body.

When I study scripture or listen to someone who has insight about a passage that I have never once considered.

When I sing with a large group of people, a shiver of inspiration pours into my tank that is begging for refreshing.

My inspiration tank empties and then it requires refuelling. Every single time I make something. I crochet, I knit, I paint, I express, I solve a problem…My tank she overflows.

What fills your enough tank?

What can you make today that will inspire your soul?

How can you bring your enough back from the brink of burnout?

I don’t think balance or time management is the answer, I believe it may be a little creative kindness to your soul.


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fighting addiction


My name is Amanda and I have an addictive personality.

The thought of having one coffee and then getting on with my day is foreign. If I like something I want more of it and quickly it becomes a crutch, a place of weakness, an addiction.

Last Easter, I fell in love with a little rabbit. Something so small, that every shop and every checkout seemed to be calling my name. This bunny taunted me. At the petrol station, at cafes, it was everywhere. You could be mistaken to think that this little childish dessert was innocent, but I found them to be evil.

The dessert that has plagued my lenten dreams was this little rabbit. Twenty two thousand people agree with me, that the Cadbury Cream Egg no longer reigns supreme as the Easter bunnies competitor, the malt laden bunny has taken over the race.


Whether it be coffee, or a fresh loaf of bread from the oven or a Malteaser Bunny at this time of the year, I am trying my best to live a healthier everyday. One of my biggest goals this year is to loose my pregnancy weight.


Full stop.

I stood at the chemist last week and stared at the aisle of diet shakes, reading them intensely wanting to believe the promises they heralded. I wanted a quick fix, a get-the-ball rolling, helping hand. I walked the beach with my man today and we talked about this area of weakness in my life. We talked, we stretched, we exercised.

He reminded me of the pact I had made with myself, earlier this year. He reminded me of the promise. That I would make small changes. Good changes. I would find the areas of addiction in my world and say no to the bunny. I would not make these changes out of a place of negativity and lack, but to pursue health as a great lifestyle choice, that will never end.

I’m not dieting.

I’m not even going to say no to the bunny for good.

But I am facing the areas where emotional eating have become routine and making choices to choose wisely.

What areas of addiction are you facing?

Is it that late night dessert or the whole packet of biscuits?

Is it throwing up after a meal?

Is it a sneaky cigarette?

Is it one or two or maybe four glasses of wine every night?

I ask these questions, not because I want to intrude. I ask these questions, not to evoke shame.

I ask these questions because I struggle too. Being a mumma is hard. Being single is harder. Being alone is ugly sometimes. It is these days that we need community and friends to ask questions that healthily bring us back to a place of equilibrium.

A place of peace.

Best place to start is admitting it to yourself and the greatest, bravest step towards recovery is admitting it to someone else.

Be brave,


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Cyclone kinda friends


This afternoon another fire was found to be ravaging our little part of the world and my Mum rang me whilst driving out to her brothers property, asking that I notify the family and see if anyone can help my Uncle fight fire at his doorstep.

One family group facebook message and the word was out. The fireies had it all under control but it got me thinking who are my natural disaster kind of friends.

You know the ones you can call no matter the hour and talk through the catastrophic in your days.

Cyclone kinda friends.

I have heaps of fair weather friends, you know the ones that I can hang out with and have a pleasant conversation when the weather is nice, the wine is chilled and the table is set.

But I am so much more grateful for my cyclone kinda ones.

Seasons come and go, but I have had heaps of seasons when my life looked like a natural disaster.




Hasty words I wish I could gobble up and take back days.

Dark, lonely and downright disgusting days.

Through my life I have tried to be a natural disaster kind of friend.

I want to be there when the shades are drawn and the PJ’s have become a uniform.

gtcc2Also the days when the party shoes are on and we dance until our feet can take not another song.

That kind of friend.

One of my dearest has her birthday around today (a leap year baby) and she is also shifting with her little novice family overseas to New Zealand on a new adventure in the next couple of days. So here is my ode, to one of my natural disaster friends.

Bonnie, thanks for being a cyclone friend.


Someone who kept things real, even when we really annoyed each other.

Someone who with grace always lead me back to Jesus and our faith.

Together we have worked on massive events, birthday bashes, published books together, worked together, mourned over loss of love, celebrated weddings, gasped at the sheer beauty of giving birth to babies, walked, run together, cooked, dieted and feasted together, shared flats, shared too many coffee’s and even more sublime moments.

But mostly I am grateful for the natural disaster kind of days.

Those days when I had nothing left, but you still loved me.

When my babies were newly born and you drove miles just to sit and chat.

Those days are the ones I will miss the most.

See you on the other side my dearest.

Bold moves = Bold results.





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The power of your story


I’m not sure whether it is because we go away in a few days on holidays or whether there is some subconscious message but I am obsessed with all things coconut right now.

Coconut water, coconut milk, coconut oil…

Fresh, summery, health conscious and clean.

You may be the complete opposite to me and coconut makes you reel or even indifferent.

That is one of the key strengths of finding and knowing our own story. Your story, your preferences, your lessons learned, your weaknesses, your seasons of success, your moments of brokenness, all combine to bring your story into your today.

My coconut obsession is just a small and silly example but it is my story. Underneath that foreground fruit crush, is a heart that has battled an eating disorder, someone who has gained weight, lost it and then somehow found it again. Underlying that story is a little girl ballerina who was told she had the skills but just needed to loose weight.

Layer upon layer. Moments of beauty, moments brokenness, moments of victory.

My story.

What is your story?

What is in your today that is layered by opportunities and disappointments in your yesterday?

One of my greatest privileges of the last few years were the trips I took Thailand with groups of creative teachers to teach kids in the slum of Bangkok. These moments were so vivid because I saw first hand the power of creativity to bring healing and amazing sense of self esteem to those who have very little.

Creativity and insight combined together in a powerful way to impact their stories. Young men who prostituted at night time hung out with hip hop dancers who wanted nothing but to see them thrive and have fun. Young girls who were exposed to drugs and gambling at very young ages pulled out canvas’ and painted. They got given cameras and took photos, they discovered the beauty in the midst of the ashes of their stories through creativity.

One if the greatest ways that my story has found perspective and life is through creativity. I have taken the time to process my years of disappointment and seasons of addiction through writing, painting, sewing, crochet, singing, dance…

My life has been healed day in and day out by the power of creativity and a romance with the Creator of all.

How about you?

Where is your story at today?

Do you need recovery and insight?

Keep expressing your story and find new ways to discover beauty amoungst ashes through the power of the arts. Find a new language to communicate what has you stuck.

Creatively discover your story and express it.

I am sure insight will follow.


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Every Morning


Every Single Morning, I do something first thing before I do anything else.

Before I scrambled for my coffee,

Before I reach for the remote and switch on the morning news,

Before I spend time brushing my teeth in a bid to wake myself up.

It is a weird little thing.

A little secret between my sheets and I.

Every single morning I do it, even before I hold my breath hoping my newborn might actually snooze for a few seconds longer.

I do it before I reach for my phone and scroll aimlessly through social media searching for something that might inspire my day.

It is a little weird and you might not like me anymore after you find out what it is.

Something only my pillow knows about, something I have done since I was a little girl.

live bright 3

You see, I am not what one would call a morning person. I wish I could spring out of bed and take on the day with fierce tenacity but I am the sort of person who needs to be convinced out of bed.

I haven’t needed an alarm for the last three years, because my son has been my human foghorn. Even before he yells loudly ‘Wake up Mum’. I do something each and every morning.

Todays question is this;

What is something you do every morning?

Every morning, as the sun pokes its head through the dawn, I lay in bed surfacing from a dream and I open one eye.

Just one.

Not both.

It is like I am lifting the covers off my sleep and saying hello to the day.

As I lay with one eye open, my mind floods with questions like ‘No, it can’t be morning already can it?’ ‘Can I have one more minute of sleep?’ ‘What happened, is it morning already?’.

Then I close my eye. Maybe closing it helps me hold onto the possibility that my soft embrace of dreams and blankets could last just a little longer.

Then I open my one eye again. I start to listen to the ferry that docks every morning ready for its days passengers and listen to the waves that lap the shore. I try to ignore to the squawking birds that reside in the olive grove next door. It is in this half eyed moment, that I take a deep breath and greet the day.

A one-eyed greeting, that says ‘Although I wish I had another moment, even a nano second of sleep, today is a new day and I will rejoice in its newness.

There is something so precious and simple about the morning.

The routine that helps us remember our blessings and to count its potential.

Each and every morning.

Even if you wake a little one-eyed, like me, let’s remember that every new day that dawns has the potential to be better than the last.

When our days are dark and difficult, colour can be found in the dark. If you take the time, even with just one eye to find it.