Yesterday I took my eldest daughter Sol to a 9th birthday party at the roller skating rink. It was the SAME roller rink I used to skate to when I was a kid. When I say it was the same I cannot emphasise, it enough.

It still had the retro 70’s carpeted wall. The arcade games I swear had some prizes from 1998 that still hadn’t been won. I’m fairly sure the skates were the same ones we hired back then. I’m pretty sure there receptionist has been there since I was 8 years old but wait for it… this is my favourite part….

They still do not have card facilities! Cash only, or bank transfer, even if you’re buying food.

I love it. Whether they’re doing a little under the table cash operation or whether they’re just truly stuck in time I don’t care. It brought back the MEMS.

I popped some blades on, skates for Sol, and off we went. But wait you guys it gets better— As we were skating, childlike and having the best time guess what song came on?

‘I want it that way’ by The Backstreet Boys.. I KNOW STOP.

The nostalgia almost threw me to the floor. It was so beautiful and also a little painful. Man, time goes so fast.

The party was for Sloan, a friend of Sol’s since birth because Sloan is the eldest daughter of two of my best buds.

Mary, Sloan’s mum and I used to party together until 6am at questionable establishments (I’m talking, 2006/2007) and then both go into work in the same shopping complex at 8am the same day. You did this too right? I worked at Subway as a sandwich artiste’ and she worked in the bike shop.

She’d come in for lunch and I’d make her a filthy sub (because if only you knew what goes into those things), and we’d console each other just with our glaze, unable to unpack the night before because of the lunch rush. I was working my hungover little toosh off in the production line.

Mary then joined me in my first business (Isa!), along with her husband Danny and they’re two of the most solid, salt of the earth people I know. Just wanted to add that little shoutout into my story.

Anyway, after the party Sol and I stopped to get a hot choccy for her and a decaf (definitely decaf!! It was 2pm!! ) mocha for me. I’d already had my coffee in the morning and I am still a breastfeeding mumma so… I do not do afternoon full strength coffee ok?

For the hot beverage enthusiasts like me let me stop real quick and tell you what I’m on right now:

Morning either before my workout with breakfast or after: A double shot + cacao, maple, gelatin and organic milk.

In the arvo about 1:30/2pm I’ll have either: the same but decaf, the same but just cacao, or a decaf at a local cafe that I walk to with my babes. I’m totally off matcha now by the way.

So, I parked the car outside the cafe and Sol jumped out to order at the window for us. I asked her after if she FOR SURE said decaf because an afternoon double shot would spell a nightmare for me and probably Figgy sleep wise. She did (of course she did. Rarely misses a beat my girl, just like me).

But just because I was SO TERRIFIED of a double shot in the afternoon, I also shouted out the window to the cafe girl ‘HEAVY ON THE DECAF OK?’ and then gave a little ‘hehe’ and a wink.

Let’s cut to the chase. It was not decaf.

But ya girl didn’t know that until I’d had the WHOLE THING.

I didn’t get to sleep until about 3am. I tried listening to ebooks to put me to sleep but they actually revved me up and gave me too many ideas. I tried listening to dumb podcasts but the ones I chose were not dumb enough. I had melatonin free gummies with GABA etc in them. I swapped beds a few times.

All that to say that I am so under slept this morning but I know dam well from 9 years of compromised sleep during motherhood that the language of the mind matters a lot on these days.

And, I have an undercurrent of energy in me that doesn’t seem to care about my mood, or my sleep, or whether the girl at the cafe did me dirty yesterday…..

It’s the energy of a promise.

I promised myself recently that I was going to go somewhere new in my creative work. That I would feel on fire again. Not just in spurts but a new consistent hum of the promise.

Still, always, with my home in the centre. Kids coming first. We live a family centred life and will do so forever.

But also? My third baby is soon to turn three (still on the boob yes), and mumma wants to grow personally and in new ways again.

When I say “on fire,” I don’t mean over-caffeinated, chaotic, impulsive.

I don’t mean it the way I felt back in 2013, building my first big movement and business before having a family.

I don’t mean caught up in expired goals and expired identities.

I don’t mean doing what everyone else is doing.

I don’t mean setting fake goals from anxiety, or from fear of becoming irrelevant.

I don’t mean trying to go back in time to an old version of me.

I definitely don’t mean chasing pursuits that don’t matter — the kind that leave me more distracted, more aloof at home.

None of that. Absolutely none of that.

When I say on fire again, what I mean is this:

Honesty that surprises me.

More fun than 2016.

No deleting bits that might get me in trouble.

I believe as we approach 40, we need to 10x our honesty and 10x our time outside and those are the peptides we need.

I’m going to be taking you behind the scenes of what I am doing, like, hiring a new advisor, yep.

I’m going to write about the almost 40 renaissance — what happens when we cannot perform any part of our lives anymore, how we can be 1000x more honest than we’re being, and how to be creatively unaudited.

I’m going to write about the ‘successful woman turned devoted mother who wants to feel on fire again but new’… and the behind the scenes of this in my own life.

I am going to write the thoughts that should not be blasted to 100,000 people on Instagram.

I’m going to write about identity upgrades and the parts of Neville Goddard’s work that make me gasp with remembrance and the conspiracies I keep unloading onto my husband and my personal favourite will still be a feature… how geographical locations shape us.

We will be side questing. There will be range.

These pages are going to excite you again.

I have been writing on Substack for 4.5 years now— since January 2022.

This next season of Honeycomb is all about GOING THERE. The place you are secretly dying to go, but not letting yourself.

Breaking out of the stagnancy, the comfort that has become a little painful, saying the most HONEST thing, noticing the very clever ways you hide and shrink….

Most importantly?

I’m going to have fun like I originally did here and you will too.

I’ve been writing on Substack for 4.5 years. Every couple of years calls for a new energy and season.

So with this new season, here is your heads up— The paid subscription (All posts. Unfiltered. No pay wall. Full archive) will be going up to $11USD a month and $99USD a year as of next week… So if you want to go somewhere excitedly new creatively or if you just enjoy my words as part of your limited screen time— now is the best to become a paid subscriber. $8USD a month or $80USD a year for the next week.

Subscribe now

Remember: You get every entry, no paywalls, access to the ENTIRE archive dating back to 2022 (over 200 posts, all unlocked). You can comment on every post, ask questions, and submit topics for me to write on. I read them.

For someone who didn’t sleep last night, and considering I am on day 27 of my cycle, I am feeling good. That’s the other thing I’m going to write about— making sure your knowledge of your cycle, your human design, astrology etc aren’t overriding your ability to CHOOSE.

I’d love to hear from you also— where are you at?

I had a beautiful email from a long time, paid subby last night who’s kids are very young. She was saying that she wants to feel ‘on fire’ again but has laid down all of her work to be devoted to her home in this season. I responded and reminded her that she is in the perfect place. To be exactly there. To not leave that precious, precious season and take on someone else’s goals. It is all about capacity, timing and seasons.

I never ever regret laying down many of my creative goals during the most precious years with my kids (which, are still so precious now).

But I have also learned a lot about capacity, how to increase it, and what takes from it.

We will talk about this too.

Lotsa Love,

PK

xxx

I remember a day a couple of years ago at my kids tennis class.

I was speaking to some mums I’d never met, and after about 30 minutes of chatting, one said “Wait, are you Peta Kelly? I love your Substack.”

I winced a little inside. I do this every time someone in my home town tells me they follow my work. Still! It’s that strange ‘hometown phenomenon’.

Like the time I was in the grocery store, arms full because hey, I don’t need no basket, and a woman stopped me to tell me she loved my work (so lovely, and I was grateful).

As I was going through the checkout, she was behind me. After checking out my $450ish dollar shop— cos you can’t exit a boujee organic store for less than that these days— I realised they didn’t accept AMEX. I knew this, dammit! So I did what I usually do when a store doesn’t accept AMEX— I fish around for another card.

So, I’m standing there fishing around in my bag for another card, realising that, dam, my backup card is at home because some hacker frauded it. I had about $400 cash on me— not enough— and so I had to call my husband and have him send a photo of another card so I could input it manually into the EFTPOS machine.

Oh what a faff I was causing, holding up the whole line. It wasn’t just any line though— it was a line including SOMEONE WHO FOLLOWED MY WORK. Here I was holding up the line WITH HER IN IT! Some rogue part of me wondered if she was secretly wondering whether I’d suddenly gone bankrupt and couldn’t afford my groceries and was trying to do a runner, lol. How could I assure her that I was financially thriving ? I mean, should i pay for the entire line’s groceries? Would she make up a story about my AMEX debarcle and take it to the dirty forums?

It’s this weird hometown thing man.

I have many stories of beautiful followers stopping me in public. I typically will stop and have a chat if I can. I also get a lot of side eyes and depending on my mood, I’ll side eye back just to make it more awkward hehe.

But gosh— there is something about people in my hometown reading and watching the work which, on some level I never thought would reach them.

I have lived all over the world and I love living in far away places where nobody knows me— I feel so much more free in my voice and honestly? In myself. When I return to my home town in Australia for seasons, I feel like a square peg in a round hole— I feel a sense of history and familiarity, comfort and home, but also a little bit of a misfit.

I built my first big business in my home town over a decade ago— packing out rooms weekly. I did the first leg of my first book tour here in 2018— which was beautiful. People from my high school rocked up and it was such a nice surprise! Of course, my family has always supported my events all around the globe. My favourite legs of the book tour were the aussie ones— regardless of where I have lived, they will always be my people.

What is it with us and the hometown thing? Why do so many of us wince when someone we know, or who live in our area, says they follow our work?

I’ve thought a lot about social media dynamics a lot over the years— I’ve written about it a lot too.

Is social media really social? Or has it become more business/work?

It’s changed so much since the days when we would post innocent photos of our breakfast with an Xpro filter to our 450 followers (all of which we knew).

Now, people use their social media accounts less to reach people they know, and more to reach people they don’t.

Acknowledging this really matters.

Unless you have a private Instagram or Facebook account, used only to share photos and updates with friends and family— your social media is not for friends and family.

This could be the freedom you need internally before you can become more precise in your message, your expression and your reach— maybe your social media is not for your friends and family at all.

Maybe acknowledging this, and unblurring it for yourself will free your voice.

Maybe it will save some relationships too. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.

I can count on two hands, the amount of stories I have heard over the last month of friends of mine with decent sized audiences, saying that they’ve lost friends because ‘they thought my posts were all about them’ or ‘they thought I was thinking I’m better than them’.

There is also this message doing the rounds which I fundamentally disagree with (see this IG reel for what I said about it), that suggests that REAL friends like, comment and gas you up on your social media posts. Those who don’t? They’re fake and jealous.

I suggest you watch the reel I filmed for my thoughts on this but I’ll recap here.

I disagree.

I personally don’t host my friendships and closest relationships on social media.

My close relationships exist in real life. For my close long distance relationships, we use long whatsapp or telegram messages, and we will schedule facetime chats. We send each other photos of our kids, and lengthy updates personally. We don’t communicate via instagram.

Sure, we might say things like “i saw your posts and i love the direction you’re going in!’ or ‘hey I loved this post you did, so true’. We will support each other, check in with each others stuff, but it’s never a performance.

I don’t check whether my friends are in my comments or liking my stories.

They have a life. I don’t believe the world revolves around me.

Many of my closest friends and I don’t have a social media relationship at all. I can think of three of my closest friends off the top of my head that I have ZERO social media relationship with. We only exist to each other in the context of our real friendship. These people know my whole family, including my mum and I know their family too.

My closest people know my family. My closest people, I know would drop anything for me in times of trouble and you bet dam well I’d do it for them too. If a friend needs me? i am there. I’ll tell my husband and kids I have to go for a quick walk, X needs to talk, something has gone down.

My closest people know me— through my many lives, many evolutions, and vice versa. We text each other for our kids birthdays, send gifts, pop bread inside the house (we know the codes) after a trip away, get our kids together for hours on end, catch up last minute with no fanfare whatsoever, give each other the honest truth, are there for each other in hard and good times. We have long standing jokes. We’ve been there through real life shit.

Real relationships. I do not need them to be gassing me up in my posts.

But I know they’re not tearing me down behind the scenes either.

You know? Just cos friends aren’t liking and commenting, doesn’t mean they’re not cheering you on— real life supporters.

Social media has made everything a fake performance.

I’m sure you’ve seen that many ‘friendships’ on social media are performative— people want to see who they are close to for social power.

You so know what I’m talking about.

There is a difference between social media friendships— people who you know via socials but who you wouldn’t call on the phone when shit hits the fan. The self help world does this especially. People want power via proximity. They wanna be tagged with certain folk.

It’s NOT the same as the village.

You have to be able to get real here.

My mum, I think likes most posts I make. sisters and my brother only comment on my posts if its a bday or anniversary. Even then, not always. But guess where is the first place I run to when I need to vent? My husband first, but also my family whatsapp.

Or to my mum when she comes over. Or to a friend on a long audio.

Sometimes we will share each others stuff, or comment but again— not as a performance because we are in contact in real life. My two younger sisters are not my target audience. We live very different lives. We support each other but again, not as a public performance. My brother and I have long chats about deep topics but these don’t take place on social media.

They are not the people I am trying to reach. But that doesn’t mean they’re not supportive, and vice versa.

(We do send each other reels though. lol)

I do not care whether my closest people like or comment on my posts. I know that it does not mean they are jealous or fake.

I also know the difference between my real and actual village, and social media relationships. They’re not the same.

Sure, I have met true friends via Instagram.

But Instagram is NOT where I host my closest relationships.

It’s where I host my work, my expression, my message. It’s where I reach people I do not know in an intimate sense.

Many people have to unblur this for themselves.

My social media is for my expression, my work, and my creations.

I do not write or express on social media for the purpose of reaching or helping the people in my immediate circle. My relationships exist off this platform.

We need to draw boundaries around it for ourselves. It is very hard to be fully expressed when you’re worrying about the opinions of people you’re not even writing for.

Sometimes we just need to draw a line for ourselves and say, “My social media is not for my friends, is not for my family. It’s for my work, it’s for my expression, and it is not a place that I house or serve or nourish my most intimate relationships.”

There is another phenomenon that I have heard so, so many stories about lately (I have also experienced it myself)— is people thinking your posts are written about them.

I have read posts and felt triggered, or a resonance, or punched in the gut by them. I know though, that they were not written for me personally. I know i am not the sole inspiration for other people’s posts. I trust my friends to come to me directly if they have a message for me and not to passively write about me.

But this is the thing with social media— we can write posts which are direct (in my case they always are!), and when we have both a social media relationship AND a real life relationship with someone, it opens up the door for them to say ‘omg is that about me?’

For instance I have friends who are going through huge identity upgrades right now— earning great money, rising above victimhood, changing their bodies after years of excuses. They speak to their audience from this place— they speak to the person who wants to change like they did.

Friends of theirs think they’re talking to them personally.

They’re not.

They’re talking to the people they’re trying to help. It is their business.

We’ve seen it happen also with politics. You can have an incredibly solid relationship with someone in real life, but then you see their social media posts and decide you can’t be their friend?

It happens.

It’s sad.

I have actually had friends who I have specifically unfollowed because their social media posts were so…. derogatory about certain demographics without meaning to be. They were caught up in the hype of certain big global moments. I knew that when we were together, we were great. We could have open honest convos about our different beliefs. I would rather this, than have a social media relationship with someone. So, I stopped following them online so I could maintain a real relationship with them where we actually talk about things.

I have friends who purposely don’t follow friends and vice versa. They have hard boundaries between their social media and their personal lives and ya know what? I get it!

I don’t have such staunch lines. I check in with friends stuff, but never as a performance. I don’t make it a priority in my life to be across their social media work. It’s not where our relationship exists. I comment and like when I see something and if I particularly love it, but again, not as a performance. Our relationships are not measured by our IG engagement. Do I need to walk into their workplace and pretend they need my presence there? no. I do care about being an active friend though.

You’ve got to draw whatever lines you need. But with social media in 2026? You sure need some lines.

it’s getting weird out there. Decide whether your socials are for socialising, or for a message/mission. If it’s both, expect a little blurriness.

I want to really hammer this home too because I know it’ll free you:

If you are using your social media for your work, your expression, your message— you need to stop writing for the girls in your hometown, or your cousins, or your high school friends.

No, this is not inauthentic.

Social media— substack, Instagram all of it— will never capture the totality of who you are.

Authenticity itself is a performance now. People believe they have to reveal every crevice of their life to be ‘real’. No. You can be both private and authentic. Authenticity has layers. Not everyone who follows me online is gonna know what a funny b**** I am in real life ok? Cos online most of the time I just deliver butt whoopings. it’s my signature style. But its not ALL of who I am.

It is ok for your social media presence to serve your work and your mission, and not your intimate relationships.

I am blessed that my closest people can read and appreciate my work and many of them love it and follow it genuinely. Some of them don’t give a shit about it, and I love them for it.

I believe there is some spiritual warfare going on where relationships are ending because of the fake and performative nonsense in the online world.

Come to it new.

Unblur it for yourself.

Tell your friends and family if you need to, that your social media presence is not meant for them but that your real life relationship is.

Free your voice, by writing with more precision without factoring in what all of your home town people will think— you’re not writing for them.

It is impossible to reach who you want to reach if you’re writing for people you are not meant to reach.

It is impossible to even be authentically expressed if you have the wrong people in your head when you’re writing.

If you want to grow a sizeable audience, take this piece of advice— stop writing for your family and friends. It’s not for them.

Nurture those relationships separately, and if they love your work anyway? Great!

Think about it… do you need your closest people coming to your workplace and approving what you do? No. That would be inappropriate. This is my WORK mate, Ill call you later.

We have to untangle it for ourselves.

You must, if you want a clean voice, and tidy boundaries.

You can find my books and classes here at petakelly.com. if you’re up for a big reboot, I suggest either TERRITORY my most recent class or HONEST— 118 pages about creative integrity in a performative world.

Lotsa love,

PK

The comment sections are more mature, considered, less emotional like the chaotic comment sections of Instagram.

One reason is because posts are longer here— things are shared with more context. You have to really choose to click on someones article and read it all the way to the bottom before commenting. On Instagram, you can stumble upon someone’s 92 second reel or 5 slide carousel and feel entitled to make moral judgements in the comments.

The truth about social media, particularly short form like Instagram, is that all posts lack context. All of them. Unless you know someone intimately, have known them their entire lives, and have followed their work from the beginning of time, you don’t have all the context.

This is why it feels so ughhh sometimes to post on Instagram, and read the comment sections.

How are people taking things so out of context?

How are people thinking this entire post revolves around them, even when I’ve never met them?

How are people making these assumptions that are, totally wrong?

It seems bizarre really, that so much of modern day communication happens on these platforms.

It is quite literally impossible to be completely understood by strangers on the internet— to never be misjudged, to never be projected on.

The fact that we try, is what drives us mad.

Making peace with these three facts is necessary as both a creator and consumer on social media:

1. Everything lacks context. This should make you less triggered as a consumer and it should allow more freedom as a creator.

2. Nothing is about you. If it resonates, cool. If it doesn’t, don’t expect the creator to change what they said to suit you. This entitlement dynamic drives me NUTS.

3. Someones else’s expression is not your prescription. Unless someone is your mentor, coach, doctor or someone you have actually hired to give you plain advice— they are not prescribing anything to you, no matter how sharp or direct their language. They are posting into the social media broadcast and had NO IDEA of exactly who would read it. This should free you both as a creator and consumer.

As a creator, this should allow you to remember that no, you don’t need to hold people’s hands every time you post. Grown ass adults need to get better at discerning, at scrolling on, at not taking everything so dam personally.

I have been posting online for FIFTEEN YEARS.

I deleted my facebook at 60,000 followers in 2018 and I have slowly grown my Instagram to 112k followers. This is a snails pace compared to how fast people move now and you know what? I’m ok with it. If I wanna grow fast, I’ll employ the grow fast tactics. But what matters most to be on socials is that I can say what I mean. Sometimes I believe we will only grow as fast as our nervous systems will allow and honestly? It took me years to stop wincing when someone misjudged me in the comments. Especially 5-7 years ago when the woke police upped their patrols.

Everyone (including me) says that your freedom with expression really begins when you stop caring so much what everyone thinks.

That goal seems so elusive really doesn’t it. ‘Stop caring what others think’.

It’s normal and natural for us to want to be liked.

It’s normal and natural for us to care what our immediate circle, our village cares about us. We have accountability to those in our real life.

But how many people can we ACTUALLY, truly care about when it comes to their perception of us?

Really sit with this.

Can you care about 100,000 people’s opinions of you?

How do you do that? Do you have to become neutral in everything you say? Tone everything down? Even then, you still wouldn’t be liked?

What happens, is after being online long enough, you learn first hand that it is literally impossible to care about what more than a handful of people think of you.

Impossible.

I mean you can, but you have to trade your freedom, your integrity, your peace… to name a few.

I have grown in my ability to ‘care less about how I’m perceived’, because I have been in the arena so long, I have been forced to.

I could no longer afford to.

I could not afford another afternoon of nausea while I tried to play with my kids, stewing over a misjudged comment from someone I had never met in my life.

I could not afford the hideous pain of trying to say what I meant while taking my signature edge off it.

I could not afford to trade the full freedom of my integrity for the shallow reward of having Marie in Austin give me her approval.

Most people just have not reached this point yet.

This is my message for you today.

The reason you still feel sick in your stomach when a stranger online misjudges you?

The reason you still care more about what others think than you’d like to?

You haven’t reached the point yet.

The one where you have to choose — between your aliveness, integrity, expression, freedom and peace, or trying to manage how you’re being perceived.

The point where you have to draw a line under it.

I used to think I “didn’t care” how I was perceived online. Meanwhile, my stomach would drop every time someone misjudged me or took something out of context.

I’d explain. Give context. Add disclaimers. It became impossible to say anything with any real, sharp truth. It was exhausting.

Every person who’s put themselves out there long enough — misunderstood, misjudged, projected on — reaches a point where they simply cannot care anymore. Hear me clearly: they cannot.

Most people who truly don’t care anymore don’t flinch, don’t check, don’t explain. But hear me on this— they earned it.

They put in the reps. They were spewed all over. They had weeks they didn’t eat because the physical threat of being misjudged consumed them. They paid the price.

More than this, they realised how impossible it is to be in integrity, in their freedom of expression— and try to be liked by people who don’t know them.

It has taken a long time of sharing my work and my voice, of being in the public eye in many different contexts, for me to truly learn something: it’s not about not wanting to care. It’s about not being able to.

As a mum with little kids at home, I have the capacity to use my voice and create. I don’t however, have the capacity to micromanage people’s perceptions, give lifelong context, hold someone’s hand through a post, or tend to every stranger’s insecurity, demand, or projection. I don’t have capacity to make sure everyone knows I’m a good person.

I reached a point where I’ve had to learn, through pure fire, what’s my side of the bed — and what’s not.

I’ve made peace with the fact that everything on social media lacks context. That everyone thinks everything is about them. That people are committed to their story about the world, about themselves, and sometimes about you.

You don’t get to “not caring” just because you want to. You get there by deciding you literally cannot have freedom at the same time as caring. You start to see how the human mind actually works — and that you’ve been on a hamster wheel, wishing everyone would see only your good parts, without their own ideas and worldview attached. You realise it’s delusional to think you can express yourself publicly, or do anything of real value, without being misunderstood in some way.

The greatest creators stop caring whether they’re liked the moment they can’t afford to keep caring. Their work, their message, their integrity depend on drawing that line. So does their health.

You still overthink how you’re perceived because the stakes aren’t high enough yet. Once they are, you’ll understand: their perception isn’t my job. My expression is. You’ll also understand, first hand, through so much experience, that it is literally impossible to control how you’re perceived by people who do not truly know you. This will free you.

You realise what actually matters to you — integrity, expression, freedom, peace, using your God-given gifts well. And that you can have none of those things and have people blowing smoke up your bum twenty-four hours a day. Not both.

All big change happens at the point of enough.

After fifteen years, I’m there.

Some of you just haven’t gotten there yet. The more you put yourself out there, the faster you will.

Be clear on what you value— integrity, freedom, expression, your gifts, your message, what you really care about in this world. When this matters more to you than being understood? Then you will find the peace you’re looking for.

Love, PK.

XX

You can shop my books + classes here.

Like many homes around the world, my family has Michael Jackson fever right now.

We watched the Michael biopic with our kids recently, and then ‘This Is It’, and every day we’re playing his music — even on vinyl.

While driving in the car, kids in the back, husband driving, me in the front changing songs per requests, my husband and I will say to each other at least twice, “It’s just insane how many hits he had.”

I’ve been quiet in my own creative process over the last week — resting, restoring, and properly wintering with my kids. But I have been thinking a lot about Michael Jackson and the rare excellence he embodied.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that line in the movie where he’s laying in the pool with his brothers and they ask, “What are you doing, Michael?”

“Channelling,” he says.

“If God can’t give the ideas to me, he’ll give them to Prince.” (I’m paraphrasing that bit).

My kids initially thought he said he was “chilling,” because that makes much more sense to little kids than “channelling,” but it opened up a great convo.

I explained to them how we have to make space for ideas — we have to live in a way that is not relentlessly distracted so that we can hear. We spoke about how big ideas don’t come from us, but from a godly intelligence even greater than we can fathom, and that we get to catch them, trust them, and bring them to life.

This is nothing new to you and to me. And I mean, you might get “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert vibes now, but let’s park that — we are in untouchable Michael Jackson territory here.

We’ve spoken to the kids about excellence, and what it takes. About commitment, and what it takes. About the creative pursuit, mastery, and integrity.

We talk about his childhood, his work ethic, his father and mother, family dynamics, and honestly? We go deep into even how his physical symptoms reflect the conflicts he would’ve been experiencing.

There is so much richness to talk about. (Including the darker stuff surrounding him and yes, the suspiciousness of how he died. I try to keep a lot of that from the kids but I also am raising aware and astute little people).

My whole Instagram feed is MJ videos now and I’m not mad about it. It’s a nice break from all the slop.

And it has me thinking about the difference between true, masterful craftsmanship and creativity that is just trying to keep up.

There won’t ever be another Michael Jackson — you know why? Because people are too distracted to devote their entire lives to becoming a rare kind of excellent. Instead, people want to be popular. They want to keep up with the trends. They become copycat artists without even knowing it. Rather than get really, really, really good at the god-given gifts within, we become averagely good at whatever is hot.

We abandon novels because wow! OK, let’s learn to talk into the camera.

We spend more time writing carousels than books.

We spend more time building an aesthetic Instagram feed than a legacy body of work.

No, there won’t ever be another Michael Jackson because a whole generation or two have confused creative brilliance with social media popularity.

I believe that in order to be truly excellent, in order to be in a league of your own, you cannot make social media “your whole thing.”

Your art — your craft — needs to be your whole thing. Then, you post once or twice a week to tell the world about it — or someone else does.

This is the trap. People equate creativity to social media. Success to popularity. People aren’t trying to make things that give us FULL BODY CHILLS anymore. It’s all about reach, engagement, coolness.

I don’t want your 7-second hook.

I want the thing you spent 5 years on.

I want the god-given gift that you nurtured so well, with such quiet integrity and devotion… people meet God when they hear it, or read it.

We are so full of average slop and so starving for masterpieces.

We can create things so quickly now, an instant dopamine hit as people tell us WOW THAT LANDED TYSM… we lack the discipline to go quiet and make something completely and utterly brilliant.

We have confused what it means to be an artist with what it means to be a content creator. What happens if Instagram crashes or you post something naughty and get banned? Will your body of work remain a legacy? Or did you spend your entire creative life just building a page on an app?

Please, for the love of God, stop trying so desperately to be popular and relevant and even polarising on purpose….. and become excellent.

Show us what God put inside of you that is ONLY in you and in nobody else.

If your thing is words, stop rushing Substack pieces. Rather than try to grow fast, write pieces that take time… that you would be so PROUD to pin at the top of your page because you know you created a masterpiece.

Write the book. Chip away at it if you have to. Let it take a while. Make it so excellent that you feel like the finishing of it is a personal handshake between you and God. A job well done. Even if it doesn’t become a NYT best seller — it is excellent. The excellence itself is worth it.

Let me tell you a secret about the book industry. People PAY for best seller status. They use all kinds of strategies to get that title. It doesn’t mean that their book is excellent.

Popularity does not equal excellence.

Relevance does not equal excellence.

Pay attention to your favourite artists… do they always have their Instagram stories highlighted? Is there always a fresh new thing for you to watch? Are they documenting their days and making regular content, or are they hidden away in a studio making something that will outlive any algorithm? Something that their kids and grandkids can hold? Something untarnished by the ever-changing demands of an algorithm?

Too many people are making courses and digital products because it’s easier and faster, and yes, that does a job, don’t get me wrong.

But what is it that you are yearning to make the most?

Are you making a PDF when you really want to open a bookstore?

Are you learning funnels when you really want to write the damn book?

Are you learning 12 skills instead of becoming excellent at the thing that your soul is most naturally gifted at?

Are you trying to keep up with the internet circus instead of quieting enough to realise that you have jumped on a travellator, it’s moving fast, and you haven’t stopped to ask where it’s going?

Are you actually enjoying your creative life right now? Is it yours? Or is it a copycat version of someone else’s?

Are you letting AI touch the work of yours that is sacred?

Are you doing anything with excellence?

Or is it all about quantity? Popularity? Trying to make things that will hit?

Where has your personal relationship with your creativity gone? Where has it been hijacked?

It takes a lot of discipline to stay in your own lane right now. It is so tempting to try to keep up, do what’s cool, not get left behind…

But does any of it mean anything to you?

Are you building something you’re proud of?

I want to see your excellence.

The world is full of average. The world is so full of same same content and millions of people jumping on the same trends.

Too many people use their precious creativity to pour into social media, rather than create according to the longing of their soul.

Michael Jackson is a masterclass in rare excellence. Our generation will never create masterpieces and legacy if we funnel all of our creative genius around instagram.

Not everyone is meant to make digital courses and personal brands— some people are meant to write novels, music or art that sends literal chills down people’s spines for generations.

I hope we know someone as EXCELLENT as Michael Jackson again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are great, great artists — we all know that.

But very few have the discipline to pursue excellence in a world that rewards popularity and relevance.

When I was growing up, eldest daughter of 4 siblings, one of my younger sisters had bad behavioural issues. She would throw almighty tantrums wherever we’d go and we’d often have to leave in the middle of a dinner — like one time we were at Pizza Hut, which was a special treat for us. My brother, probably 6 at the time, had to carry this sister under her arms while she was kicking and screaming out of the restaurant while mum went and got the car.

Eventually, my mum told my sister that she would buy her a toy each week that she didn’t throw a “wobbly” (our word for tantrum).

I saw this as a massive injustice and I told her. I said, “Mum, why does the poorly behaved child get rewarded with a toy for not being poorly behaved, while the well behaved children get nothing?”

She would say, “Peta, goodness is its own reward.”

Still to this day I bring it up to my mum and say, “Mum, this was such BS.” She laughs. She knows it was. But she was desperate.

Goodness is its own reward, sometimes.

But do you know what really is its own reward?

Excellence.

Holding a hardcover book that could’ve been a downloadable PDF? That is its own reward.

Screw paying for best seller status. I mean, how lame is it that people care more about having that in their bio than they care about actually making something of impeccable quality?

I made my recent Body Luxury book in a limited, luxury edition because EXCELLENCE matters more to me than popularity ever will, and this has been my motto my entire “career.”

Popularity might tickle. Fast dopamine hits might jolt you for two minutes.

Making something EXCELLENT? That sustains the soul.

My advice to you, if you want it…. Take some time to read the biographies, watch the biopics, or just read about the creative processes of people you really admire for their excellence.

Be reminded of what is possible when you are guided by artistic integrity and excellence, and not by popularity and relevance.

Report back to me when your spark comes back. And also? I have two things you might want. These are things I made that are digital — however, I am working on putting my creative teachings into something excellent, a 6th book.

Honest: Creative Integrity in a Performative World. 118-word book.

Territory: Take Back Your Creative Territory and Come Alive Again. 3-hour class.

Erik was attending a leadership event at The Montage Laguna Beach and we were sat at dinner with the other attendees and their wives.

One of the guys— a direct competitor for Erik’s company who happened to also be insufferably arrogant asked us “How long have you been married?”

“5 months!” We said excitedly.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask your secrets for making it last so long?”

Nobody laughed. Sorry, but you’ve gotta be way funnier if you’re gonna make me laugh— you won’t even get a fake laugh out of me for recycled conference guy jokes.

We didn’t know it at the time, but we were actually pregnant with our first child, Sol. So I would have had pregnancy hormones making me even less tolerant of pompous guys and shitty jokes.

I completely forgot about that day until this morning— the day before our ten year wedding anniversary.

I wouldn’t have had any secrets to share about marriage in those first few months, of course. I wouldn’t even have dared share any marriage wisdom in the first 5, or 7 years.

It’s only now, 10 years in, that I feel I am just beginning to understand the true depth, beauty and meaning of the covenant of marriage. It is one of those things you have to really live, for long enough, to grasp.

My mum has always said how much she loves seeing old people walk down the street holding hands, still, after all these years. I get it now. A marriage that lasts through all of life’s events, all of our many personal evolutions— it is beautiful. And it was earned.

A few years ago, someone said to me: “When you get married, you start at the bottom, not at the top.”

This is one of the most accurate things I’ve ever been told about marriage.

It’s easy to think that when we get married, we start at the top— we’re in love, young, haven’t had children yet, and our capacity for ourselves and each other is high.

But looking back at our ten years— I see two young people, 27 and 29, who despite being happy, healthy, wealthy and incredibly blessed… truly were starting at the bottom.

We were still to build our family.
We were still to figure out life with an international family from opposite corners of the globe.
We were still to learn what it means to truly put our own family first.
We were still to endure trials and challenges.
We were still to grow up as adults.
We were still to live in four countries.
We were still to have 10 years of broken sleep.
We were still to have visits to the ER.
We were still to endure massive career pivots, challenging family dynamics and even… a very hard temporary separation.

We started at the bottom, and three incredibly healthy, beautiful children later— we are here.

It makes me teary.

Me? Married for ten years?

It is the achievement of my life.

8 figures? Piece of cake.
Publishing books? Easy.
Speaking on big stages? So what?
Investing like a boss? Big deal.

But enduring intimacy? As a girl who became hyper independent at the youngest and tenderest age?

My marriage and my family are the greatest blessings of my life. God couldn’t have done any better for me.

When I was little, I never dreamed of getting married. My mum and dad separated when I was 4. My brother and I always used to joke that it was ‘just a piece of paper’— jaded young kids.

My nanna was never married. The father of my mum— an Olympic Greek wrestler— left once he knew she was pregnant.

Neither my mum nor my nanna ever re-partnered.

My great grandparents were married 70 years but my mum always adds: ‘not happily though.’ They lost an adult child after World War 2 and my great nanna became an alcoholic.

I didn’t have a blueprint for marriage.

But I did have a blueprint for loyalty, integrity, and unconditional love.

Let me honour my husband Erik.

The best decision I ever made as a woman was marrying Erik. I was young, but luckily the wisest part of me knew.

The best decision I ever made as a mother was marrying Erik. My children have the most present, loving, kind, patient dad.

He hasn’t had his own bed in 9 years— hopping between beds at night, laying with our kids until they are fully eye-twitching asleep. Up first thing, letting me get an extra hour, making breakfasts— including all of their very different and specific requests.

He invites them into his passions— namely golf— gently, no pressure. He teaches them with wisdom, never pushing too hard, always making it fun, always making sure they respect it.

Respect. Erik is so big on respect. He speaks to everyone kindly. He is the most humble person you’ll ever meet. When he was leading his family’s almost-billion-dollar-a-year company back in the day, people would ask what he did for work. He would answer: ‘Oh, I work for Isagenix.’

Never did he say ‘I own it.’

Ever.

He always has the mentality of starting at the bottom. Always the hardest worker. Most disciplined and devoted to any pursuit.

When he moved on from that chapter and returned to his first love— golf— he said: ‘It’s so good to just be able to say I’m a golf coach.’

He never wanted the limelight, but he could sure handle it. A true statesman.

My Aussie guy friends would always tell him he made them look bad with his chivalry. He still opens the door for me on our dates.

Erik is the most generous person I know. Not just financially— in every way. Even when exhausted, he is always looking for ways to be there for us. Making me a coffee. Taking the kids to the park. Playing catch in the backyard.

He stays calm when they are emotional. When I am emotional.

I know many say their husband has the patience of a saint— quadruple that, times it by a gazillion. That is my husband.

Every Mother’s Day he makes me a video montage— every year without fail. He writes the longest cards— never a short card guy. He sits down, takes his time, writes neatly, and writes so deeply from his heart you feel it.

He listens. He takes time to process. He is always willing to learn and grow.

I love novelty, curiosity and growth— I also love home immensely and would die for the people I love. One of the greatest gifts I give Erik is this— he does things he wouldn’t usually do, and he is eternally entertained.

Erik loves sturdiness and commitment. One of the greatest gifts he gives me is that he is sturdy. I still, to this day, expect that I will be too much for him. Still the four-year-old in me wondering if I am faulty or broken.

When Erik stands sturdy— through a premenstrual meltdown or a low place, a season of being reborn— I am still floored that he is right there.

I am still, after ten years, getting used to being loved by a man who is always right there. Sturdy. Never wavering. Loving me in all of my range.

We’ve done different forms of counselling and therapy, and most importantly we have ensured God is in our home— the values, the way of Jesus at the centre. Not religiously, but as the compass for our family.

Neither of us are perfect and we have hit hard times. At our hardest, we realised that a marriage requires God in the centre— that the covenant of marriage is not governmental but spiritual.

I also deeply value the covenant of marriage when it is honoured by both sides— both willing to grow, to sacrifice, to take responsibility for their own aliveness and integrity, and to constantly meet again, anew.

What I’ll offer instead of a tidy list:

— Marry someone with outstanding personal integrity. It matters in every phase of life and is harder to learn.

— You will have a hundred marriages inside one. Every few years, we are so very new. We have to be able to not only meet our partner as they grow and evolve but to encourage it.

— You truly do start at the bottom. That is the zero point— then the real work, building and life begin. Some see marriage as starting on a high note then slowly dwindling. NO. Decide to become more vital, and stronger as a team every year.

— Constantly revisit your family values and ensure your life is built around them. This seems very basic but it clarifies everything, especially when hard decisions need to be made.

— Be very careful who you let inside your ears. There are people who don’t value marriage, and who will want to project their own ideas and failures onto you if you allow. Be mindful of this.

— Learn to communicate with the opposite sex. Learn the differences between men and women. Continue to learn each other. Couples counselling isn’t just for when you’re stuck— sometimes it’s just to grow closer and make things so much better.

— Take responsibility for your side of the bed. If you’re always focused on where the other is falling short, make sure your side is tidy first.

— Put your family first. You have created a new family and you have to honour its needs and its dreams— while still having a thriving, respectful relationship with families of origin.

— Understand the seasons. My husband always says to me during the hard ones: ‘We are on the same team.’

Every time it makes me think: Omg, you are on my team. I don’t need to do everything on my own anymore.

— Pray for your husband/wife. Pray for their health, their vitality, their joy, their success, their peace. Be generous in your wishes for them. This is SO under rated. Praying for them at night will change your heart. Be bold in the wonderful things you wish for your spouse.

I wanted to write our story too— but that needs its own post. If I write it here, I’ll rush it.

I just wanted to write something today to honour my husband, celebrate ten years, and look back on what have been the most rewarding, growth-filled years of my life.

We have three amazing, healthy, gorgeous children. We have lived all over the world— and we’re not done. We have given enormously to people we care about and lived lives of quiet integrity that I am proud of.

Our next phase is very exciting. We have devoted the last decade to living a family first life— being present parents first and foremost— that won’t ever change. Now, as our kids grow, we’re dreaming again.

I bring the adventure and excitement and Erik brings the logic and commitment. ;)

Happy anniversary to my amazing husband.

Thank you to everyone who has loved and supported us over these years.

Thank you God.

Fun fact:

We were married in Maui. We had about 50 guests. We had a week long celebrations with our loved ones from around the world.

We did not see the venue until the day before the wedding and I was a very chill bride.

We had family style food, including burger and chip stands so that when we had our photos, everyone was eating and drinking already (please do not leave your guests without food and drinks after your ceremony!).

We had a Hawaiian celebrant and evolved our vows from those in ‘conversations with God’ and then we wrote our own.

That was literally the last time I drank. We were pregnant a few months after this and have been pregnant or breastfeeding since! HALLELUJIAH!!

XXx

You are about to read one of my rough, rogue posts that I sat to write in the pocket of a regular Tuesday afternoon.

I just went on a walk in the winter sunshine here. I sent long, rambly audio messages to two girlfriends overseas— one in England, one in the USA.

Every time a friend sends me a 14.56 minute audio message, telling me about some very big things in her life, she will say ‘i’m so sorry for rambling'.’

I think we all do that— we apologise for rambling but let me tell you on behalf of all women— we don’t care. We love it. Ramble on.

I love hearing from my friends far away. Catching up on a years worth of life events deserves a full day coffee catch up but if all you’ve got is an audio message after school drop off then please don’t package it into a nice, neat, structured message.

Your audio message to me is not part of the viral yap challenge on Instagram. You are not being graded on your structure. Send it to me messy, send it to me ADHD, send it to me while stopping to say hello to the woman walking by, send it to me while yelling at your dog to get off the couch.

Send it to me in one big chunk. Send it to me in crumby bits.

Not one time, am I thinking “dammit she is rambling.”

My ears are a safe space for the messy imperfections of my girlfriends— as clever, wonderful and self aware as they are.

A theme I’m noticing amongst my friends but also on the interwebs is that so many of us are in some kind of…. pivot.

Pivot is the soft word because ‘identity crisis’ feels a bit heavy, a bit extreme.

I mean, we’re not midlife yet are we? Is 38 considered midlife now?

Anyway, the ‘crisis’ that we’re in doesn’t resemble a midlife crisis as in the movies— sure, there is the rogue impulsive haircut and the desire to rave again…. but the millennial identity crisis is different because we are different.

We are the first generation to parent publicly. We have eyes on us in our most tender, tired times, and we have relentless lists of ideals to compare ourselves to.

We have done more ‘self development’ than any generation in history, more healing, more self indulged pursuits which have left us tired and more separated from ourselves than ever.

We have lived our entire adult lives with a front row seat to everyone else’s peak (and lowest) moments and this has taxed not only our minds but our souls. We’re constantly pursuing things that aren’t for us and we don’t catch it until we’re sick.

We have galaxies of information in the palm of our hand— our parents had to trust themselves. We are learning to trust Claude.

We learned so many epic truths about living a limitless life but pursuing ‘having it all’ burned us out.

We have gripped onto all of it— free from the 9-5, hustle culture, boss babe, trad wife, wellness obsession, new age to Jesus, performative activist, 7 fig girlies… ALL of it has lost it’s stick.

We have achieved big things. Got the money, the success, the big followings and realised that Jim Carey was right— everyone should get it, to realise that it isn’t the point.

We’ve watched the worlds horrors on our screens and become totally numb to a lot of it, not by choice, but through de-sensitisation.

We have, without ever intending to, become performative.

We made ‘authenticity’ a job.

There is SO much to care about while also giving our all, including our bodies everyday for the little people inside our homes.

We care about one thing, we’re yelled at for not caring about all things.

We are tired of being told what to say. What to care about.

We’re spoken to by thousands of strangers at once in tones and in volumes that was once reserved for only our closest circles.

Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of strangers have opinions about us. Our nervous systems adjust to this, while we’re also up 5 x a night breastfeeding for years.

We’re tired of it all.

Politically correct bullshit.

Performative faith.

Performative activism.

Performative niceness.

Performative politics.

Performative wellness.

Performative expertise.

We are disillusioned. We are tired. We are pissed off.

Also, we are maturing.

We are growing into ourselves.

We are discovering our spines.

We are not the children anymore— we don’t need permission.

We are realising that we are the adults now.

No funny jokes about ‘AdULtInG’. We are the mothers and fathers of this earth.

I have felt myself in a little tired place this past month— beautiful and God given though.

(I will reserve the details of that for when I switch my paid subscription back on so I can go to town on it).

But I secretly love this little periods of pause— it’s like the wisest part of me saying ‘hey, no. We’re not doing it like that anymore.’

God makes us tired so we can be tender.
We become slow so we can become soft.

Otherwise, we charge and push through.
Many friends of mine have been feeling in this weird middle place lately. They’re pivoting in their creative and professional lives.

They’re between an old identity and a new one.
Recognising old patterns that have hit their expiry date.
Holding a vision for the future that would require they really grow and get out of their comfort zone for the first time since 2013 when they built their first business.
Feeling things they’d preferred to have shelved away for another 38 years.

Many are just feeling disillusioned. We’re telling ourselves the God honest truth about what we want, don’t want, believe and don’t believe.

Suburban domestic life? Boring. How am I back here? Is this truly my choice or an orientation towards comfort, safety and doing ‘the right thing by others?’

Absolutely everything being optimised through AI? Discombobulating.

Christians who tell people not to trust their God given discernment and intuition while they gaslight using bible verses? No.

Churches that serve whole cups m&m’s to kids while having them colour in at kids church and politically correct pastors who think homeopathy is demonic but the hideous politicians they support are not? What?

Every false belief we have clinged onto about what it means to be a good mum, a good wife, a good daughter, a good human— crumbling when we realise how much our over perfectionism has cost us our FULLY LIVED LIVES.

Realising that our social media audiences perceive us to be nice little spiritual girlies when really we are rough and rogue and hilarious and WOW why don’t they know that? Am I, still, also…. a little performative?

The relentless over-auditing in our own minds because we are FULL of comparisons, of different teachings, of ways to optimise and so now it is harder to just rest in our own judgement without jumping through hoops and doing somersaults first. Too much information. Too much everything.

We are tired of our own BS.

We are tired of others BS.

We are tired of the depth of corruption in the world.

We are tired of the performative EVERYTHING.

We are tired of trying to lump ourselves into a box because ALL boxes have come undone. They’ve broken open…

And here we are now just us.

The raw honesty about who we are, what we actually want, what’s working and not working, what we believe, what we do care about and what we don’t care about….

The fact that actually yes I do like to swear when it’s called for

and no, the imaginary christian in my head is not going to guilt me for it

and that all of this striving for some insane level of perfection has broken us

and we’re tired

and we want our innocence back

our zest for life

our voice before we tried to make it a perfect yap or something that wouldn’t piss people off

our true, innocent spiritual life without performing it or perfecting it for image

our unhinged goals and desires before we decided that they were not from God because God never said that. The lady on the internet did and we believed her because our mind has fused with the internet and we only realise when we become so tired because we’re not living our own lives.

I mean, we are but we’re still holding back, hiding a little, performing a little, guilting ourselves when we have no need to, speaking when we don’t want to, not speaking when we do want to, overthinking the shit out of everything….

Trying to squeeze the juice out of our lives according to the 1282359 voices in our head from the internet rather than…..

The quiet voice of our own souls.

The exciting desires of our hearts (that God put there).

The remembering that this is our life. We have to take it back from the noise and live it because we are around 40 now.

It’s moving fast. Some friends have grey hairs and some friends have died and our kids are growing so fast, our parents too.

No more fking around in complacency or those old life sucking patterns of trying to live for others.

I KNOW you have been honest. I KNOW you have a spine. I KNOW you haven’t been fake this whole time— that’s not what I’m saying.

I’m saying that we are waking up from any remaining remnants of falseness now. And yes, even if you have been high agency this whole time, we all have our weak spots.

Our kids are watching us— not for our perfection but for our aliveness.

They’re looking at us seeing if they too, have permission to go for it, to enjoy, to trust themselves, to believe themselves…

We aren’t the kids anymore. We’re the adults.

We are tired of trying to live right and we are so, so ready to start living even more true.

We are going back to our 2012 courage, innocence, who we were before the internet muddled it all up.

We are re-deciding all of it:

Where we want to live.

What we want to do with our time.

What we want our family rhythm to be.

What we care and don’t care about.

What structures and ideals we have believed in via osmosis and not truth

And most importantly… that we do not need to run it by God or wait for a permission slip.

God made us free because we are meant to create our lives.

Our thoughts, our identities, our beliefs…. yes, they do instruct our lives and always have.

No, it was not demonic manifestation. That was a lie.

Wake up. Let it come full circle. Let what you KNOW inside the Kingdom of God within you be true.

Trust it.

We are participants, we are not puppets.

This is the millennial renaissance.

This is the millennial pivot.

This is the millennial crisis which is not a crisis at all—

It’s a remembering.

More like this coming.

Love, PK. XX

If you want three hours of me on camera delivering this x 1000, you can buy my latest class here.

My youngest child is on antibiotics this week.

Not ideal. Definitely my last resort. But sometimes it’s the right thing.

I am a ‘natural mum’. A bit of a cringey term thanks to social media but you know what I mean.

All three of my babies were born beautifully at home. I’ve breastfed for 7 years and counting. I co-sleep. Have a non toxic (as much as possible) home. I reach for natural remedies and homeopathy and we see a chiropractor as our family practitioner.

I also have studied German New Medicine, and the psycho-somatic relationship between symptoms and our internal mental conflicts.

As you’ve probably read, I also view symptoms as a spiritual thing and my views on illness and wellbeing aren’t conventional. You can read about my journey and my wellness philosophy in my book Body Luxury.

Many of us are naturally minded because we’ve had experiences that caused us to distrust the medical system. Many women my age are still healing from those three Gardasil shots we got when we were in high school. I feel lucky that I seem to have swerved any side effects of it personally— I conceived quickly, I have pretty easy periods, and all that.

Many mums are pissed off at how often they feel bullied by the medical system, particularly around their pregnancy and births. Naturally, they dig deeper, find alternatives and once you follow the yellow brick road it’s not hard to discover how much the medical institutions have been corrupted.

Mothers just want to do the best thing for their babies.

For me, my tendency towards doing things the natural way was intuitive. When my first baby was born at home in 2017, and we declined many of the routinely offered up medical things afterward, people thought I was mad.

I didn’t decline them in some crazy act of rebellion, I declined them because they didn’t make sense to me. I was also a first-class-honour science graduate so I had a science brain as well.

You don’t need to be a world class researcher to notice that medical interventions and treatments that were often reserved purely for life saving situations (antibiotics, C sections) are now often abused and used in unnecessary circumstances.

We are right to be suspicious.

We are right to be discerning.

We are right to learn the true nature of healing.

We are right to try the path of least interference and least damage first when treating our kids for minor, acute things.

But there are also times when we need to be ok with leaning on the medical system when we need it. When it comes to caring for our kids— our ego’s need to take a back seat and we need to do what needs to be done.

It’s similar to birth. We all know beautiful naturally minded mummas who did everything right in planning for their home birth— only to need to be transferred to hospital. We also know the sad situations where mothers declined medical attention in times when they needed it and life was lost. I say that with the utmost compassion for anyone who’s experienced anything like that.

There is simply no room for ego when it comes to our children.

Intuition? Yes.

Discernment? Yes.

Critical thinking and research? Yes.

Advocacy? Absolutely.

But ego? No.

One thing I’ve learned though as a ‘natural mum’ is that you’ve got to stay humble. We should for sure live with our convictions, our beliefs and by our God given intuition— but we have to leave a little room for open mindedness, softer thinking too.

When we are too rigid in our thinking, often life will soften us by humbling us.

Sometimes we resist the medical institution because we fear it. I know this has been true for me. I witnessed my nanna die because of medical clumsiness. That stayed with me.

I’ve had my own experiences with hospitals like when I was 24 weeks pregnant with my second child, living in London with severe food poisoning, sitting on the floor of the labour and delivery department violently vomiting in a paper bag. Women were walking up and down the halls in front of me literally in labour and I was trying to cover my face so they didn’t have to witness a barfing woman in the most vulnerable moment of their lives. A nurse would frequently come and check the hardness of my abdomen to make sure my baby was ok. The hospital was so busy, I ended up discharging myself and riding it out for 5 days at home.

That isn’t a traumatising story, to be clear. Just one I felt like sharing. I’ve been admitted at the age of 18 for pylonephritis, a secondary kidney infection— now that was not fun. But again, not traumatising.

I remember when my first born Sol was 5 ish months old, the hemangeoma she had on her chin burst. We took her to the doctor immediately because it wouldn’t stop bleeding. The doctor told us to come back if the gauze had bled through in 24 hours. Well, we turned to walk home and within 5 minutes it had bled out. We took her to emergency and it was cauterised. This was the first out of FOUR times in different hospitals around the world, we ended up in emergency with her needing to have it cauterised. One doctor told us she would need plastic surgery. She wasn’t even one !!

We decided to weigh our options. It was scary that she could scratch the spot at any time and we would need to race to the hospital, so we weren’t ignoring it, that’s for sure. But plastic surgery? No.

I did some research and tried a little something. I put apple cider vinegar on it (that old chestnut) and covering it with a cotton ball and a bandaid. I was watching her every night regularly because I was terrified it would bleed unstoppably again. After about nine days and on her first birthday, the spot fell off.

This one night, in one of my frequent checks on her, I realised it had started bleeding. I picked her up, put her on the boob with the spot resting on my boob so pressure applied— in the morning it was fully resolved. It disappeared. She has not a single mark there now.

I mean, if we had to choose between apple cider vinegar or plastic surgery…

When my middle child Pax was 2.5, he swallowed a coin in rural Italy. You can read about it here. I won’t go into details because I wrote about it in 2022 when it happened but we spent a night in a rural italian hospital (they were incredible doctors and nurses by the way— I was so grateful for them).

Here’s my little babe, still breastfeeding, having IV antibiotics and anaesthesia. They even gave us a course of strong probiotics to take home and rebuild him. They have a really good health system over there.

Anyway my point is— when it’s an emergency situation, you do what you need to do.

In moments like these, you realise how dam grateful you are for emergency medicine, and although you don’t choose it for lifestyle medicine, you appreciate the enormous good it does in the world.

Yes, it has been infiltrated by money hungry thugs.

Yes, it causes a lot of harm and death. I believe that.

But also, there are absolute angels on this EARTH in emergency medicine jobs and THANK GOD FOR THEM.

When it comes to antibiotics— no, they’re not something any of us would dose our kids with without it being necessary. We definitely should not abuse them like many do. Antibiotic resistance is rampant now and I think many mainstream doctors are recognising this.

But if you do find yourself in a situation where your child needs them— remember that they have been a blessing in many life saving situations too.

They’re not always abused. They have saved a lot of lives also.

You know how to rebuild your child. You know all the natural mumma tricks.

My little babe Figgy is healing swiftly. She’s still on the boob at two and a half. I understand the emotional implications of skin situations (separation conflict) and I am also aware that this happened the day after we started night weaning (which is now off the table. Still feeding in the night!) so…

But I know as a mum I made the right call in her having the support of a very short course of antibiotics this time. I know it wont be a regular occurrence. I know she will be built up and with a sparkly inner flora again.

I have been saying to her what I have always said to my big kids too — Figgy, your body is so clever. It always knows exactly what to do. It’s always doing what it needs to do. What a clever body you have.

I am so grateful for the amazing self healing mechanisms inbuilt in us by God. I am so grateful for all of the knowledge of the true nature of healing and illness. I am so grateful for all the down-the-rabbit-hole knowledge i have and for all of the clever teachers who have taught me across many health and wellbeing modalities. I am so grateful to live a healthy, natural life and to give that to my children.

I am also so grateful for modern medicine when I need it.

Love,

PK XXX

PS. You can find all of my books AND my new class on reclaiming your creative territory on my website www.petakelly.com.

From a very young age, as the hyper vigilant eldest daughter, all I have wanted to do is ‘get it right by God’.

Even when I was in my super spiritually adventurous phase when I was subbing in the word ‘universe’ for God, at my core I still so wanted to get it right by the divine order.

The proper correctness of things.

Truth according to natural law.

It was my north star.

It’s a very eldest daughter thing to be oriented towards perfection.

I often wonder if, because my dad did not live with us, if instead of orienting myself around my father’s standards, I oriented myself around God’s and placed them so out of reach.

Achieving was never hard for me.

Getting things done? Piece of cake.

I have always been such a ‘high agency’ gal even from a young age.

I had my own reading box in year 1 because I was reading light years ahead.

My siblings always teased me about how many university graduations of mine they attended (it was only two, but still).

I built an 8 figure (profit) sales organisation in my early twenties despite no young people in my country having done it, and despite enduring a lot of judgement, and very public opinion.

I retired my single mum of 4 from her 40 year career as a high school English teacher and paid off her mortgage in full— it had gotten out of control due to all the times she had to refinance for our soccer trips.

I was speaking about the laptop lifestyle, and living free, way before it was an accepted conversation.

I did things like self published all of my books, and decided not to include fake ass celebrity endorsements in them because they were exactly that— fake.

I just didn’t wait for others to give me permission to do things. I could see the freedom, and I’d move towards it.

This has always come naturally to me.

When I became a mum, I wanted so much to get it right according to this divine order. I home birthed my three babies, breastfed day and night, co-slept and decided to make my home my priority.

I wrote and edit books around my babies. I even went on an international book tour with my first born Sol strapped to my chest (except when I was speaking).

But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t internal conflict in me.

As the years went on, I was very hard on myself at times.

I had such a vital creative spirit, as all mums have, but at times I believed that because I could be at home with my babies without the financial pressure to earn, that I should cut all of ‘that stuff’ off and just savour the season.

I didn’t want to blow it— the fact I had no financial strain and could turn my back on all public facing life and just savour motherhood and be fully present.

My biggest fear was having my kids grow up and me looking back regretful.

Regretful that I’d gotten ‘caught up’.

Regretful that I wasn’t present.

This conflict was the root of my recurring mastitis. Which, was not fun.

Over the years, I slowly resolved this conflict.

I found resolution and internal wholeness.

I realised that my creative urges weren’t wrong, neither was my desire to use my voice.

I learned how beautifully it fit together with motherhood.

I realised that it was very natural in creating while also being a devoted mum— but I was internally, and constantly thinking about how much better I could do.

Despite being at home all of the time— the one thing making me less present was NOT my creative work… it was my mind. Always overthinking, internally auditing.

Always trying to get it right by God.

As if my Creator wasn’t who gave me my creative ideas, my spirit, my uniqueness, perspective, and complete free will to live according to all of it.

My creativity wasn’t what distracted me, it was the relentless of my mind in always making me believe I wasn’t doing anything perfectly enough. By God.

Some of us set impossible standards for ourselves. We want to be perfect, whereas God made us free.

This is what I want you to realise.

I want you to know that the right use of your creative energy is life giving and God given.

Relentless internal auditing is exhausting.

(I want to make it clear too that I understand not all mums are in the same situation. My mum was a single mum of 4. Her mother was a single mum also.)

Not all mums who have internal conflict around work/motherhood are struggling financially.

Sometimes they’re struggling with their relentless mental activity or things that are very deep and personal.

Sometimes, they’re constantly measuring themselves against impossible standards.

Sometimes, they’re just wanting so much to ‘get it right by God’.

Sometimes, they believe it’s God judging them, their creative urges, their desires.

Sometimes we blame God for why we aren’t doing what we need to do.

We tell ourselves that we haven’t got ‘the nod’ from God.

After I found Christ, which brought me immense peace and freedom, I immersed myself into Christian commentary online.

Some of it was incredibly life giving— some of it wasn’t. It took me a couple of years to discern, and to pull myself out of the echo chamber and to ensure my faith was personal— not performed, not copied.

At times I felt paralysed by the message of ‘deny thy flesh’ and I took it too far. Typical eldest daughter.

I judged every creative urge. Every message I wanted to share. Every curiosity.

I struggled to speak online because I wondered if what I wanted to say would be ‘right by God’.

I forgot that God gave me the gift of my voice.

I forgot that God gave me this life… the childhood I lived, the rough area I grew up in, the eldest daughter of a single mum who is bald headed and tattooed, the natural grit this gave me.

I forgot the unique perspective I was given.

And yes, we are to use it thoughtfully and responsibly especially online….

But shutting it off when we know we are meant to use it?

That is not God honouring.

There is so much garbage, so much devil-working-over-time online and here I was muzzling myself in case what I said wasn’t absolute perfection.

This was not the liberty Christ came to offer.

This email here might have given you what you needed and if so, I’m SO GLAD (in all capitals).

I’d love to know your thoughts in the comments.

If you want more of my story and how I reclaimed my creative territory as a woman and mother— you can go here.

Lotsa love,

PK XX

You let the loud and relentless cultural noises make you so internally confused that it paralysed you.

You let your humility become a chokehold.

You hid yourself and you gifts and told yourself it was integrity.

You came up with so many sophisticated ways to hide that even someone as self aware as you couldn’t see yourself doing it:

You researched and analysed and bought courses and did everything but the one thing you know you needed to do.

You told yourself you were a better mum than all of those other women who still expressed themselves boldly and came alive while mothering.

You told yourself you were waiting on the voice of God to give you the nod that you could go after your creative desires…. Forgetting that God is the one who gave them to you.

You told yourself it was too crowded. That social media is dead. That a truly content and devoted woman and mother doesn’t ‘do things like that’.

Whenever you go to say something online you talk yourself out of it. You weigh up the cost of public opinion and decide it isn’t worth it.

You think about all the ways your message might be wrong one day, how cringe you are, and how you don’t need any of this social media nonsense anyway.

When you feel that hot fiery creative energy surge in you and you decide to hit record and film yourself sharing it, you do it beautifully the first time, but then you do 30 more takes and decide to leave it all in drafts.

You let the voices of low life strangers on social media scare you out of saying what you truly believed.

You started to believe that they all deserve a voice, but not you. You’re blessed enough anyway.

You handed your creative territory over to strangers and you justified it to yourself.

Until you felt your aliveness slowly dwindle.

You become impatient with your kids.

If you’re honest with yourself, your mental health took a hit too.

Because a woman’s creative territory is God given.

And when we hand it over to others or pretend it doesn’t matter— it hurts. It really hurts.

You don’t need to have a social media presence to be fully expressed. But you do need to resolve the conflicts inside of you that are at odds.

You’re scrolling. You’re just not speaking.

One drains you. The other gives you life.

I have walked the walk of being an ON FIRE voice of authority, to hiding myself with brilliantly sophisticated strategies.

Sometimes it was truly a season for me to be quiet and removed. Other times, I hid and I called it integrity, peace, and even faith.

I will be sharing a series of posts like this over the next week and beyond, so that you can feel seen in the way you are chomping for your own creative renaissance.

I’m also sharing them to celebrate my own. My fire is back.

I also sat and recorded three hours of me ripping into the camera heart-to-heart, for those who really wanna come alive creatively again and now.

I did it so that you can reclaim your creative territory in this fresh season of your life.

I share my own intimate story of how paralysed I become by external noise, including cultural christianity.

I share the sophisticated ways us clever women hide even though it’s hurting.

I share internal beliefs that may be at odds within you that need resolution in order for you to move forward, exquisitely free.

I share all the ways you might be trying to make yourself a certain ‘type of person’ you’ve seen online and usher you back to your honest, incomparable voice.

I remind you that your children are regulated by your aliveness— and that we self abandon too much, it’s burdensome for our children.

And so, so much more.

This is not a course. It’s a loving pep talk. An intimate heart-to-heart.

Plus, I wrote down 39 SUPER honest questions to help you draw a line under the patterns that keep you shrinking.

If you only read my posts and never buy anything I offer, I know you’ll get sharp bits of insight anyway. I make sure that even in a ‘launch’, the emails and posts are so full of goodness that even those who don’t buy can be moved.

So whether you want my new class or not, strap in because this next week of posts are going to be fire.

The class called ‘TERRITORY’ is right here. It’s at a special price for a week.

Lotsa Love,

PK X

“You have changed the whole trajectory of my life over three hours. I did not expect that.”

KP

“I am so grateful I invested and got to spend three hours with you. Exactly what I needed to hear.”

LW

You’re still free.

Yep.

Your government sucks? You’re still free.

People make fun of your videos? You’re still free.

Not earning what you’d like? You’re still free.

Gotta decide between homeschool and school? You’re free.

I posted a few videos last week that struck a deep nerve with my audience.

They wrote comments like ‘are you in my head?’

This is the number one message I get and I’m not mad about it.

Actually, I got that comment or message at least 20 times last week. A friend messaged me to say that she thinks I’m psychic because I always say what many women are thinking.

Am I psychic? I don’t think so. Highly intuitive like all women, yes.

All I do is say the thing out loud.

I can say it because I notice it in myself first.

I study freedom because it is my highest value. Freedom. Integrity. Family. Not in that order but together.

I have noticed how many ‘New age to Jesus’ girls have developed a distorted relationship with free will— forgetting that God gave it to us on purpose.

I have noticed also that many who claim to be set free by Jesus are not living the fruits of this freedom. They relentlessly audit themselves, overthink their posts, judge every desire that comes across their heart.

I notice how many say they are so ‘anti-matrix’ and yet roll themselves into a ball whenever the government makes an announcement.

I notice how many mothers judge every decision more harshly than God ever would. Homeschool or school? Work? They’re questions for your family. God isn’t going to mail you a permission slip. He gave you free will and when did you stop trusting yourself to use it?

I notice how many say they don’t want to be on social media but actually spend hours upon hours a day on there scrolling. They do want to be expressing their voice— they just have developed very sophisticated ways of hiding. They’re in pain because they’re hiding and calling it integrity.

So many of the ‘freedom lovers’ are not living in true freedom.

Yesterday in Australia, the government announced their budget changes. Many are incredibly disappointed but very few are surprised.

My message to Australians today was this: What are you going to do with your freedom?

Will you leave the country? Start a political revolution? Decide to earn more? Restructure your financial set up? Get a new account? Explore your options?

Some have decided that Australia is becoming far too punitive for ambitious people and that morally this is the straw that broke the camels’ back— they’re exiting and moving overseas.

Some have decided to get a better accountant to ensure their position is optimised.

Some are deciding to get to work on creating more income, or simplifying their lives so their financial burden is lower.

Some are looking to decentralised options and loads of other things.

The bottom line is this: Every moment is yours to decide— what am I going to do with my free will?

I have made a lot of content on Instagram this week because I’m really fired up and personally overcoming a lot of my own inner conflicts and strongholds.

I have so much to share about the real behind the scenes, super honest questions I ask myself when it comes to living with even more integrity, freedom and aliveness for my family.

Next week I’m sitting down to film an old school, 2014 Pk style (if you know you know!!!) power boot of a class that I’ve titled: TERRITORY.

It’ll be three hours long.

It is going to be straight fire. It’s going to pop you open and jolt you out of the places of stuckness and loop-de-loops that are driving you mad and keeping you contracted but disguised as humility.

It’s going to return the high agency women to their right territory— in their homes, and their creative lives.

If you want to sit in your cozy clothes with a yummy slice of (organic) peanut butter toast and be both freed and entertained as I share all the ‘things out loud’ …. then join this waitlist here.

As you know, I don’t do this often. But very expansive, iconic pep talks is what I am absolutely best at.

Lotsa love,

PK XX

(Reader, note, at the time of posting this, we’re in Lake Tahoe visiting family).

It’s called Onyx and Alabaster and it’s an interior design house X super suave coffee spot. The coffee is good. And that’s coming from an Aussie coffee snob. I got a choccie croissant too, because I’m on day 1 of my cycle and I did a (slightly half assed) workout this morning at the gym and who I am explaining to again?

I don’t explain my chocolate croissants.

They’ve got worship music playing softly, which is beautiful and also, it’s Tennessee. Faith is loud and proud which is refreshing coming from Australia where it’s slightly underground but there is for sure a new groundswell. People are becoming desperate and disillusioned and people are in pain and seeking purpose and that is when people seek and encounter the truth that sets you free (of which there are many levels, as I am learning).

Last night we went to dinner at a place called Herban Market, which is all organic, no seed oils, no glyphosate, you know— how it really should be but isn’t. They had a beautiful note on the menu that said ‘we are always organic. Hopefully at a profit. At a loss if we need to be, but always organic.’ I appreciate this integrity, and you can taste it. It’s a clear position and it’s a rare one in the restaurant space.

An older man there was alone at the bar reading a book on mystical christianity. I was going to ask him about it because— right up my alley ya know, and because I’ve only bought 12 books in the 6 weeks we’ve been travelling so far so what’s another one? But then my youngest started running towards a little baby (because she is baby obsessed and yes that makes me want another but Figgy is still on the boob day and night so… not right now).

I really love Tennessee. It’s my new favourite American state. The area we have our airbnb is like a 90’s American suburb you’d have seen on the movies growing up. Families out on their porch til after dark, and at least 8 families in the neighbourhood homeschool so in the afternoons after the work is done it’s all fun and games outside. The other day, my three kids stood with about 8 others on the front of the neighbours house and joyfully tried to get all the cars that passed to toot their horn. Then they’d cheer when they did and add another score to their tally. Yesterday they made a good ol’ fashioned lemonade stand. Everyone who drove by stopped to buy one.

Wholesome. Beautiful. Innocent childhood.

We’ve made real and good friends in the two weeks we’ve been here already and it’s been so very easy. You know when you just fit?

People are sweet. The kind of sweet that is a little uncomfortable for an Aussie because although we are good and kind, we are a little rough. The neighbours here still neighbour. I won’t lie we have incredible neighbours back home too but I feel like this time in Tennessee has been so good for my soul. It’s given me a short and sweet masterclass in southern hospitality. It’s deepened in me the importance of family culture, faith, values and a sturdy moral centre.

Our family is at a definite point of decision making— It’s not just Australia Vs America. It’s so much more.

Our old way, our old dynamic, our old identity isn’t fitting anymore.

We’re being called to new expression, new creations, and new rhythms.

And we’re in that uncomfortable place of the in between, as bloody cheesy and instagramish as that sounds.

My favourite strategy for these moments is to think and talk and think and talk and think and talk my way to clarity.

The thing I love most about leaving home and going travelling, whether it’s a week, months or stints living away- is that you can see and hear things differently. You get ideas and perspectives you don’t get when you’re In the same environment and routine everyday. It freshens you. You see things in other cultures that may spark business ideas or may remind you of parts of you that you’ve sorta lost or to open your mind to something you were closed to, or to really clarify what’s really important.

I loathe the saying ‘wherever you go, there you are.’ No ma’am (I say ma’am now).

Wherever you go, there is a version of you, you probably couldn’t access in the monotony of your everyday. It’s a part of you that was popped alive by a new land, a new person, a new culture, a new perspective.

You are different when you aren’t walking among those who remember you like you were when you were 19, or who still judge you for who you were when you were 23.

I have long spoken about the importance of circulating energy. If you’re stuck, move. Change your routine. Go to a new coffee shop to write. Put on a nicer outfit. Workout at the gym instead of in your garage. Book 3 days somewhere new.

Women especially are creatures of variety and curiosity. We need it.

You may know, I’ve lived in my native Australia, also USA, England and Italy (we renovated a Piedmontese farmhouse on a 60 acre organic farm, and made it a non tox luxury haven. See here).

Most recently we left Australia for an extended trip with our kids, of course, starting with Japan. Japan is a country I’d suggest everyone put on their lists. The order, beauty, and social cohesion is radicalising in the best way. We stayed in Tokyo, then went skiing in Hakuba then came back to Tokyo. Japan really needs it’s own post but in short I’ll just say— We will definitely be returning.

Then we stopped by LA as an entry point into USA, saw some friends, ducked and weaved some colourful characters on the street, bought guns, had some good coffee and ventured on our merry way to Jupiter, Florida for a couple of weeks.

Our time in Jupiter was fun. I hadn’t spent much time in Florida other than a few very quick stints in Miami here and there. On the second or third night, our youngest, Figgy (2), locked herself in the bathroom of our airbnb and turned the tap on. It was 9:30pm (we were still getting adjusted to the time so a late night for the kids). I tried to open the door and realised it was locked and calmly tried to tell her how to open it. I wasn’t calm for long once I realised she wouldn’t be able to.

We then took turns talking to her, still trying to instruct her, while racing around trying to find a skewer, or a knife, anything that could get the door open. I had my husband call 9/11 and get a fire fighter over to open it because it was escalating. She was calm for about 5 minutes saying ‘mummy I need you to open it for me’. After that, she started to panic and was crying ‘mummy open the door I want the booby’. A tap was on, and we could hear running water, but we didn’t know which one. Between her crying and the tap, she couldn’t hear us at this stage. In my opinion my husband was TOO calm on the phone to 911. I was trying to get him to be more urgent because I’m used to, in Australia, it sometimes taking a while for emergency services to show up. He knew though that they’d be there almost immediately, and they were.

Within two minutes or less, there was a huge police officer (like in the movies), in our airbnb. I was not calm by this stage because my baby was calling out to me and I couldn’t get to her.

Sol, my eldest was mirroring my energy and telling the big cop to kick the door in. He told her he couldn’t because figgy was standing right behind it. Pax was trying to close his eyes, very worried for his little sister and also having flashbacks to when he locked himself in an airbnb room also (I was able to get him out picking the lock with a knife). But another time he locked himself in his grandpas’ Aston Martin in the hot Arizona heat and Erik had to smash the window with him in it to get him out. Oh, the mems.

So, within a minute, another cop showed up, and then an ambulance and fire brigade. They wedged the door open and hallelujah. I reached in and grabbed Figgy and put her on the boob and she so cutely was waving to the 5 emergency personnel.

It was a high adrenaline situation but oh my GOSH I was so impressed by how fast the emergency response workers were there. It was like we blinked and hello!

We took the kids to the Ninja Kids park, which is something they were fanging to do.

I met with a beautiful friend, Natalia Rose in Palm beach and we walked the insanely gorgeous homes in the eerily perfect utopia that is Palm Beach Island for two hours. Someone on my IG suggested I buy a book about the scandals and lore of Palm Beach and I said hold my orange juice sis— I bought three. One thing about me is imma hyper-fixate.

I couldn’t believe how many dogs had prams /strollers. We even met dogs that had spectacles and sunglasses. I mean, you do you dawg.

I learned to DJ in Florida. Yep. Are you tracking my undiagnosed ADHD or what? (I won’t ever go for a diagnosis mind you. If there is one thing our world is right now, it’s over-diagnosed).

I had a professional come and teach me for four hours, twice, with homework in between. It’s always a stretch for an eldest daughter to start something new and not be the best right away. But I’m a fighter.

At the end of our lessons, the teacher put his shades on and during my first extended mix he raved in the kitchen in front of me. I was laughing inside thinking ‘Americans are so cool and free and cringe’ meanwhile I was concentrating so hard on getting the mix right I was barely dancing.

Typical eldest daughter— I will enjoy myself once I am GOOD at it ok? Not a moment before then.

Surprisingly, the ‘travelling with young kids’ fatigue didn’t start to creep in until late into Florida. I love travel, but I love routine and home and comfort too.

I love travel for how it enforces my Body Luxury philosophy (new post coming about that soon), Including wellness minimalism and faith as a key part of the routine. I have my non negotiables on travel but the things I lighten up on too. I’ll write about this more soon. But after a month of rogue pilates workouts, I missed my heavier lifting. My body really missed it.

Then onto Franklin Tennessee. And Easter.

We slipped right into Franklin life as it if were our home. I started going to the gym again to lift heavy and gosh it felt good. I do love having solid structure around my movement, At least, some sturdy anchors, then I can add my flavoursome stuff on top.

We met up with a friend and her daughter on the first day and we met the neighbours and we fell in love with the gorgeous homes and town and ahh. Franklin is so beautiful.

Wit this sense of home also came with a deep ache. A sense of belonging, and freedom up against the biological pull towards maternal lineage who can be apart of the children’s lives. Difficult from 30 hours plane ride away.,

I have felt a real tension. Like I am at an edge. Not just an edge of decision making but a real edge. I know I need to step forward into something new— firstly in terms of family rhythm. Sol is almost 9 now and what she wants and needs is changing too. It’s exciting and also, it’s new. We forget how quickly time goes with our kids. We forget that we only have them as babies for such a short time. Toddlers, a short time. Little kids, a short time. They then grow in independence and reveal even more of who they are, what they’re interested in and as a family, we’ve got to grow all together.

We’re all growing.

As a family we’re entering a new chapter in many ways all at once.

New family business.

New family rhythm.

But the underlying decision on our hearts when we ventured on this trip was: Do we live in the USA again? Or do we return home but with renewed purpose in Australia?

The other day I did what I believe is the hardest thing for an eldest daughter to do. I cried like I should’ve cried when I was 7. You know those sorts of cries? Nothing was wrong— nothing. Just the tension of the edge, and my relentless mental activity trying to make all the right decisions… it wore me down.

It’s meant to, isn’t it?

We burst when we are holding too much tension inside because we’re not meant to. Crying is the release. It’s how we let ourselves be cradled again in the love of God and the reminder that ‘it’s all good. You’ll make the right decision.’

^^ Beautiful Lake Tahoe the other day.

I sent an audio message to one of my mentors . She is like my Phillipino aunty. I know I can tell it to her exactly as it is and she understands them spiritually and biologically. She said to me this morning:

This edge is where multiple identities are trying to survive at once.

Dam. So true.

It feels hectic at the edge because old you, other you, new you are all there trying to breathe and you’ve got to choose a direction, a way of being that is perhaps new and a little uncomfortable.

As I started focussing on who I wanted to be in this new chapter— as a mum, a wife, a creator…

I stopped making it about location.

My husband went through his own process and we would report to each other where we were at. I would really lean on his sharp logic and non-emotional decision making skills. I mean, what even are those?

Slowly, but surely our clarity arrived.

New visions arrived.

Things started falling into place.

All things to grow into.

And now here I am at an edge— it feels like the same edge I was at when I left my Phd in 2011 as a young 20 something who thought she’d always be an academic, and went into business. That kind of edge.

More on this next time.

With love, from a snowy (yes! in April!) day in Tahoe.

PK XXX

Oh also, Sol and I have done the BEST vintage shopping here especially in Truckee. I need to do a whole post about just the jackets I found. I have been vintage shopping since I was 12 and with it’s rising popularity, you’ve gotta work harder for it now! Here’s one of them. I’m not sure I’ll get away with wearing this back in Aus because everyone will think it’s a political statement. Guys, it’s a fashion statement. Another score was a 90’s parker, tarten lined.

You are the poster girl for modern wellness but mentally you are always scanning for threats in the form of toxins, overhead lights, and polyester.

You re-share posts about nervous system regulation but you live in ‘wellness fight or flight’. Tap water or perfume can make you feel like you’re being chased by a tiger.

Many of us who have lived with hypervigilance and perfectionist tendencies found a cozy spot to hide it— the wellness industry. We can hide our obsession with control behind the guise of taking care of ourselves.

The wellness obsession doesn’t make you more free, it puts you on high alert. You are always scanning to ensure your environment is one in which you can thrive, that you have the last gadgets and know about the newest threats… having more knowledge does not always mean more freedom.

Millennial wellness girlies proudly ditched Big Pharma but traded it for Big Wellness. You believe you need every new gadget and supplement that comes out. Having the perfect conditions has become your idol. You worship the wellness industry as if it gave you the remarkable, self healing body. You forget about the love and intelligence that sustained you while you were in the womb and that wakes you up every single day.

You forgot that you loved dancing to EDM.

You forgot that you loved reading fiction and not just endless guides to more perfection.

You forgot that your mind will do more for you than your biohacking knowledge ever will.

You forgot that you are safe to actually live.

You forgot that the whole point of the wellness journey is to live life more fully.

Vitality means being able to give yourself fully to who and what you love.

The health journey wasn’t meant to be another way you prove yourself to be a good girl— always proving, never living.

Do what brings you alive. Put on a playlist from your glory rave days and watch it give you more energy than a PEMF mat ever could.

The point of the wellness industry is meant to be ALIVENESS, not dependency.

Sis, live.

Love, PK.

You can buy the Body Luxury philosophy printed inside the most beautiful book ever, here.

It’s not usually a book I’d choose.

I am no Liz Gilbert superfan, but I don’t dislike her either. I don’t track her work or her life closely. I don’t subscribe to her Substack. I don’t follow her on Instagram. I did love Big Magic though. I respect her as a writer. She’s intelligent, funny and super honest.

Gosh I love me some super-honest, and I’ve not read much that is more honest than her recent book.

I’m glad I grabbed it off the shelf.

I was walking around an enormous Barnes & Noble here in South Florida with two of my kids.

(To catch you up if you missed it, we’re in the states for now, after two weeks in Japan).

My youngest, Figgy (2), is one of those kids who will happily walk off and do her own thing— whether at a park, or in an enormous book store. She doesn’t need you to be close. You cannot threaten her with ‘Ok Figgy I’m leaving!’. She’ll say ‘ok bye!’. She is miss independent, but also still on the boob what feels like 24/7.

As I perused the books, ready for a new gripping novel I could have in my handbag and reach for on our travels instead of my phone (my eldest daughter has called me out on it lately, a post for another day), I was overwhelmed.

There are so many books. Are there more books than ever right now? Does anyone else get sweaty palms while strolling a book store with the mounting pressure of choosing something that will be good— world expanding— eye opening— inspiring— worth it?

I do. I was looking for something specific— an autobiography or biography detailing the life of a creative woman in her late 30’s early 40’s. I am in a place of wanting to do something new creatively and I have too many ideas.

Most of the books I picked up, flipped over to read the blurb, detailed a story of a) a broken family b) a divorce or an affair c) woke themes of which I wasn’t personally looking for. I mean, what’s the danger in a book about a family with a mum and a dad who actually stay together for decades? Naturally, I gravitate to the classics for this reason.

While regularly calling out ‘FIGGY!’ to make sure my youngest hadn’t raced out the front doors, I realised I couldn’t take my time. I had to pick one and pick one fast. I had to go on vibes. Not blurbs.

I chose three books— one about Coco Chanel and her true story— rebuilding Chanel in her 70’s after something to do with the war (haven’t read it yet!), as well as a classic on The Subconscious Mind that I’d read before, and Elizabeth Gilbert’s new one.

Out of my loot of three, I chose Gilbert’s to start with. I read it in two days— firstly because we are travelling and I wanted to read it quick so I didn’t have to travel with another heavy hardcover. But also — it was hard to put down. I read it in the car as we drove thirty minutes to Palm Beach, I read it right after the kids fell asleep, I read it while the kids were cosying up with their show.

What I’m about to write is not a review.

What I’m about to write is not a character probe.

I want to share what stirred in me after reading it.

The book was brutally honest. I have so much respect for honesty. I love the language of saying exactly-how-it-is. Not many people actually do this, by the way.

Our generation has become so obsessed with the idea of authenticity that even authenticity itself has become something that is often performed. People start sentences by saying ‘can I be real with you?’ or ‘if I’m being honest’ — and usually what follows is a watered down or hyper polished version of what is nakedly true.

If you want to read full reviews of the book, go and search online. I don’t want to give spoilers here in case you want to read it. But she revealed many crevices of her own darkness— to the extreme of admitting that she planned to murder her partner. Not in a ‘haha’ kind of way but in a ‘no I actually planned it’ way.

While I can empathise with her desperation, it’s also really f***ed up to plan to kill someone. And you can’t ignore that just because she is honest. You can’t say ‘wow that was so brave to share’ while ignoring what was actually shared.

You can't idolise honesty so much that you justify a lot of really shitty behaviours.

“Yeh but they were honest!” They were also planning to kill someone, Linda.

We have to be careful what and who we idolise, because in holding someone or something up on a pedestal, it takes a lot of muscle and energy. We have very little left for critical thinking, or changing our mind, or courage, or discipline.

For me, the 'I planned to kill her' admission was pretty shocking, but runner up were Gilbert's admissions of how much she used people. How she manipulated them— including her partner who was dying of cancer. That she destroyed others' marriages. These are pretty big admissions for someone who millions of women look up to as someone who has their sh*t together.

This is what Liz Gilbert’s latest memoir stirred in me— you can never pedestal anyone. No matter how spiritual, or successful, or articulate, because you don’t know them. Most of the time you’ll never know about others demons. But Liz Gilbert told us all about hers.

Leaders in the self-help world are looked to with the hope that they are clean and clear in the areas most people are not. But most of them are just great at marketing. Great at positioning. And yes, great at manipulating. Especially those who are the most self-proclaimed ‘LoVe And LiGht.’

Integrity is private. It’s not rewarded publicly. Performance is. Integrity is like motherhood in that you don’t do it for grand applause. You don’t see the fruits of it for many years. You might never be seen for the way you stood straight, the micro moments of self sacrifice when the animal in you wanted to self indulge.

This is why you cannot pedestal anyone you only know through their carefully curated public work.

Last night we were at dinner in Palm Beach. The kids were running around to the live music and we were constantly entertained by how many dogs were being pushed around in prams. WHAT?!

I said to my husband— I don’t feel like I could write a memoir as honestly as I’d like to right now, because most people I’d want to write about are still alive, and I just wouldn’t do that to them.

Does that mean I can’t write honestly and authentically? No. But do I need to reveal every crevice of my life in order to be a high integrity person in my space? Also no.

This is the message I want to share.

Honesty is a virtue. Human storytelling is so incredibly valuable, especially in the world of AI slop. But privacy and dignity are virtues too.

Don’t fall into either of these two traps:

a) Thinking you have to overshare in order to be honest and authentic.

b) Assuming you know the true inner workings of the mind and life of those you revere online.

As a stranger, I cannot expect complete honesty about every area of someone else’s life. Neither can you, as a reader here, expect to know the complete picture of everything in mine. I won’t share it with you. Not because I am inauthentic, but because I respect the dignity of others in my life— whose stories would need to be told in order for me to share.

Some people get the idea that to be authentic and honest means you reveal all. It doesn’t. It means you tell the truth about what you choose to share.

What IS required of us is integrity— not pretending to be someone we are not.

I am not here to judge Elizabeth Gilbert. None of us are perfect humans. I respect her brave honesty, especially in the face of public criticism — but that’s it. I don’t need to invest any more into a deeper opinion.

What I am noticing though is something many of us have been watching happen for YEARS…..

The bubble is bursting — the self-help, spirituality, personal growth bubble. The people who have been ‘the guiding lights’ for years or decades are being seen for the regular people they are. And more than that — some of them are being revealed as people you don’t want to be taking instruction from.

Which brings us back, once again, to what Jesus came to tell us.

The Kingdom of God is within you.

Lotsa love,

PK.

My newest book (It’s the most beautiful book ever about life beyond wellness obsession) is here. XX

I am writing from the mountains in Japan.

We ski’d today— it was packed! I think from now on in, it’s me and the onsen.

I enjoy skiing. I hate the gondola however. I have been skydiv…

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I have drafted a really long piece about all the things that are so fake and gross about Instagram these days.

I wanted to write the performative friendships where people want to be seen with certain ‘people of social power’— who then go on to be shitty friends in real life because all they care about is their social media image (I know you probably know people like this too).

I wanted to write about how 5 minutes on the gram can plummet your sense of hope, inspiration and train your imagination for doom and gloom. We all know how important it is to guard our minds in this time and yet we still walk ourselves willingly into the ring of fire that is thousands of (often dark and heavy) visual impressions before we’ve had our breakfast.

I wanted to write about how we’ve become literal attention seekers and people are prostituting their personal information online for clicks… going hard on the shock value and sharing things that should remain private and dignified (in my opinion).

I wanted to write about how it makes good people, self indulgent, and how this can really escalate especially for mothers. A simple ‘take a photo for me’ can turn into a life of always documenting everything and more self indulgence than is healthy for a family.

I’m just looking at my notes with dozens more points and realised I could write an entire book on the topic.

We all know that, unless we approach social media with a very sound mind, and stronger than normal discipline, it will make our lives worse.

It will make you dumber.

It will make you more afraid.

It will chew into your creativity.

It will make you tired.

It will cause chronic indecision.

It will perhaps thrash you around emotionally.

It can make you less present for your real life.

We all know it.

Especially on Substack, we all know it. We are Substack snobs over here. Instagram? Yuck. What plebs. I actually enjoy having an attention span, thank you very much. Now where is my oyster fork and vintage Tolstoy.

I go through many seasons where I deeply contemplate whether I want to scrap my IG all together.

I have deactivated it.

I have deleted the app from my phone for several months at a time, numerous times.

I have always done it my way. This means, I haven’t grown super fast or ever really had a strategy. It’s a place of expression, but also very tied to my own moods. I post when I feel like it. I post when I have something to say.

My back isn’t up against the wall in any way. This approach has suited me, truly.

But I’m kinda tired of the extreme thinking. I KNOW that it’s such a relief to throw Instagram in the bin and be free of it. There is definitely a sense of peace that comes from not having the app on your phone at all. I’ve done it many many times.

But also, I don’t want to live as if this stupid little app on my phone is the giant, and I am the grasshopper.

I am the giant. Instagram is the grasshopper.

You know? Let’s get that straight.

I want to be so sturdy in my mind, so disciplined, so in love with my life and aligned with my values that I can use Instagram for 10 mins a day and then leave it in it’s little folder on my phone without a second thought.

I want to be able to post something, engage with my followers for a few mins and then tuck it away until the next surge happens.

I want to be able to have a quick peek at what my friends are up to, without it then ending up in feeling I need a new couch or a new lymph massage for my neck or that my country is burning to the ground and I should move to Panama.

The best strategy might be to scrap Instagram. Or it might be to have your cake and eat it too.

This requires becoming someone who uses IG to their one benefit— for the innocent power of expression and connection and sharing good messages and art, but without becoming a slave to it.

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Wake up, remove the mouth tape, turn the red light on, take castor oil pack off, chi machine on, jaw exerciser, scalp massager, water with 3 different hydration sachets inside, peptide injection.

It’s when wellness becomes neurotic— a checklist, a performance— stacking so many habits but with no idea which, if any are actually moving the needle.

I am all for optimising, don’t get me wrong.

There really isn’t a modality or hot new trend I don’t know about— but I definitely don’t adopt them all. How psycho would we feel if we tried to implement every new thing at once?

I have learned to keep things simple but there was once a time where i’d travel with a suitcase full of wellness things. I’d use very few of them, but I felt a sense of comfort and safety having them with me. I was a ‘just in case’ person and to be honest? Quite high anxiety. I thought everything had to be ‘just right’ in order for me to thrive.

I was a very high maintenance wellness girl, that’s for sure. But I am so, so glad I matured.

Over the years I realised that I was trying to ‘try’ so many things but that only a few of them really mattered.

If I could tell you the main practical things now off the top of my head, it’d be things like these:

• The whole house water filter. I’ve had one for over a decade no matter where I’ve lived.

• Turning the bright lights off after sunset and phone in the drawer at this time too.

• Moving my body in ways that are invigorating and strengthening and letting this change in different seasons (eg, after birth) and not according to trends.

• The rebounder. I notice such a big difference when I focus on my lymph.

• Organic produce. Wholefoods. But also our favourite treats that are not crunchy at all— like Loaker biscuits. We love these in our home. We also eat out at cafes because— aussie lifestyle— but eat mostly at home.

• Non toxic cleaning products.

• Natural fibres on all the beds— linen.

• Sunshine. Lots of it. Window always cracked while driving sorta commitment.

• Prayer, mind and proper use of imagination.

• Creative expression and aesthetic beauty.

Can I tell you which I believe to be THE most important element of wellness though? More than any of these practical things??

I’m going to get to it shortly in this post.

I believe in standards that are woven into life— not a wellness routine that becomes neurotic.

Living a mostly outdoors lifestyle matters more to me than spending hours in a room full of biohacking equipment.

Living a life of beauty and expression matters more than ticking things off a wellness checklist.

High standards, but relaxed. This is my motto. It used to be ‘neurotic perfection’, lol.

Now, to be clear, I am a healthy woman and am not healing anything in particular and I fully recognise that in times of healing chronic illness, it’s very natural that your healing regime takes up a lot of your mental space.

The old proverb says— When you have your health you have 1000 dreams. When you don’t have your health, you have one.

I am never one to condone laziness or apathy regarding health and vitality.

I am the opposite.

I have learned over the years though, that we can have all our ‘ducks’ in a perfect wellness row, but be missing one of the most important tools a high vitality life.

I was asked recently as a guest on how I start and end my days. My answer was this, but I’ve added some more detail.

Start—

I wake up usually with my kids or even sometimes a touch later (hello, breastfeeding during the night still) as my husband gets up with my very early risers. Maybe have a little bounce on the rebounder but most days I head out for a walk at the beach with my headphones in— I call it my prayer walk. I play an emotive playlist and I feel my prayers— not just say them. It is one small thing that is very valuable to my mind, my body, my day and also my home. Sometimes one of my kids comes on the bike, but it’s my moment to set the tone for the day.

End— Laying beside my kids, little red reading lamp on, reading a book. We have the family biomat on, a red light, and I either do legs up the wall or we take turns on my little leg rocker for lymph. It’s a simple family wind down routine. I don’t typically do anything after the kids go to bed— I go to bed with them. I usually fall asleep right after reading, and I try to imagine beautiful things as I do— my mental prayers.

While our habits are definitely important— there is something even more important.

I really, whole heartedly believe this.

Habits matter. Getting your steps in matters. Eating nourishing food matters. Community and sunshine matters, hallelujiah!

But what I believe matters the most?

Faith. In two parts.

Your perception of yourself.

Your faith in your body’s ability to heal.

The new era of wellness is about recognising the importance of our faith.

Not just faith in Jesus, but faith in what He came to tell us, show us, free us from.

Faith in your body’s ability to heal, and faith in yourself as a high vitality person.

It’s peeking beneath your wellness routines and supplement stacks and asking yourself this: What are the most naked, honest beliefs you have about yourself and your body’s ability to heal?

It’s knowing that the biggest hack is free— the disciplined use of your mind.

It’s knowing that you can have the most dialled in routine in the world but you will never out-exercise, out-supplement, out-protein your perception of yourself.

It’s knowing the difference between optimising from a loving place, and becoming so anxiously caught up in the wellness trends that you miss your life.

It’s fully waking up to the fearful systems of intimidation and modern day medical curses that keep people trapped in its lies and its spells.

Jesus said, ‘Your faith has made you well’ many times while healing. He was always revealing truth and freedom— connecting us directly with our Creator to prepare us for life in a world of lies, deception and darkness.

If I ever returned to my phD, it would be to study this one line— Your faith has made you well.

Our quiet beliefs instruct our lives, including our bodies. When people hear of ‘faith’ they see it only as religious. But we are practicing faith with every belief we hold to be true— including with our health. Jesus knew this. Those people didn’t just believe in Jesus, they believed in healing.

God did not make us puppets, He made us participants. Too many think that to honour God you have to surrender all but if you surrender your mind in this world— you surrender it to a world of fear, sickness and chaos.

To be truly well, you’ve got to take your crappy thoughts and beliefs captive and make them life giving instead.

This doesn’t mean you don’t optimise. This doesn’t mean you don’t have high standards for food, habits, environment and life….

It’s about renewing the beliefs that live underneath it all and making sure they match up with the vital, resilient, energetic person you want to be.

When I get caught up in feeling I need all the new gadgets or sachets to be vital and vibrant I stop and ask myself this:

How much of it is truly moving the needle?

How vital can you still be if all of it was gone?

Do you perceive yourself to be high vitality even without all of your gadgets?

Are you a high vitality woman only because of your 15 step morning routine? Or could you access the same vibrancy if dropped in the middle of a countryside without a gadget or sachet insight?

Your body doesn’t care about your wellness religion.

It responds more to your persistent thoughts about who you are, than to your 357 step routine.

Learning how God truly designed your body will take you 1000 miles further than obsessively stacking wellness habits just because the cool kids are doing it.

There is something fundamentally anti-vitality about living as though you cannot thrive without 458 gadgets and ‘hacks’.

Here are some questions to get quiet with:

Who do you perceive yourself to be?

In your most honest thoughts— are you a high vitality person? Resilient? Energetic?

God gave us the gift of a mind that has an enormous and undeniable affect on our bodies and our lives.

I do not EVER talk about self concept and faith in a bypassy way— no.

But we cannot talk about wellness WITHOUT properly addressing the impact of your mind, your self concept and your faith. They go together— they always have they always will.

God designed us this way.

What you think about yourself and your body is the most important ingredient on your plate. You can eat the cleanest diet in the world and still perceive yourself to be a low energy, low vitality, always getting sick woman— your diet cannot outwork your perception of yourself.

When you go to work on your thoughts about yourself— when you train your mind to expect vitality and radiance, you become simpler in your routine.

The flex used to be ‘look at all my fancy supplements and modalities and how knowledgeable I am to use them’… but as you mature out of that false reliance, you learn that your vitality isn’t mostly because of your high maintenance regime-- it’s how you’re using your mind and your words, how you resolve conflicts, how you’re using your God given gifts, how you narrow in on the work and people in front of you to love.

The more vital and free you become, the less reliant you become too. It all becomes simpler.

I offer these words not as prescriptions. I am not a doctor. I have a BSc(Hons) and have studied many other modalities but I only offer these words as personal ideas. I trust my readers enough to know that they (you!) have a strong sense of discernment and know what is relevant to you or not.

I share more about my journey in the most beautiful book I’ve ever made— Body Luxury. You can read what I wrote about it here or you can buy it here.

Love PK

XXX

I do have many ‘deep thought’ entries in my drafts, but I’m sensing that people are a little exhausted of the deep and the heavy right now. Tell me if I’m wrong.

So, this entry will be a little innocent riff, which I intend to be light, enjoyable reading for you. It’s raw, journal style. No high art here for this one. I launched a high art book this week— this one can be rough ;)

February is a little nuts, is it not?

Many people I know are feeling some kind of chaos or pressure in their lives. For some, it’s change— either tangible life change or a subtle internal one, like reclaiming their full integrity, or their voice. Oh you know I have more to say on that!! (Keep it light today Peta, keep it light).

We leave shortly for an overseas adventure— our first long one in a while.

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From my life, to your coffee table or beside your bed— a real life piece of hard-cover beauty that merges Vitality, Womanhood, Food and God.

When I walk past my copy of Body Luxury, as it sits on top of my very boujee, limited edition Assouline books, I get a jolt of joy each time.

It’s not just the cover (even though, it is stunning), but it’s the peace and freedom I now know, after decades of wondering whether I ever would.

Body Luxury is a philosophy that was created over 37 years.

From a child with health anxiety (yep, a child)….

an athlete….

an over achieving eldest daughter….

a girl who’d pick the sultanas out of the cereal, and many other disordered habits….

a studious researcher with a BSc(Hons) in the field of exercise and health science…

an 8 figure wellness entrepreneur in my mid twenties….

a holistic health nerd and ‘natural everything’….

a crunchy mum who learned that some of it is just anxiety dressed up…

a mother of 3 desperate not to pass on my ‘old food stuff’ to my kids…

an Aussie woman who lived all over the world, but was utterly transformed by life in Italy, and one moment with a butterfly cupcake in the English Countryside…

a woman who knows there is a time and place for it all, and not to cling rigidly or else God will ensure humility is learned…

a woman learning what it truly means to live biologically, how God designed us differently to men, that our symptoms tell a story, and how so much of the world has health all topsy turvy…

a woman joining the dots between a womans’ creativity, her aliveness, the beauty that surrounds her….

a woman who is finally free, after so many years wondering if she ever would be.

I tell this story through the book I have called, a museum. A living, breathing collectors item containing words from The Body Luxury philosophy.

If you’ve followed my work for any amount of time, you know how much I believe in craftmanship and beauty we can hold in our hands. In a world of AI slop and print-on-demand (time and a place!), going the extra mile to make something special is so worth it.

I also believe that witnessing, creating, holding and appreciating beautiful art is life giving for women.

I didn’t just make you a beautiful book— I’ve invited you into a museum of 312 coloured pages, so I could offer you some of my freedom and peace….

with no screens.

As you flick through the pages, you’ll walk through a museum of words I’ve written, personal discoveries I’ve made and old beliefs I’ve let go of.

You’ll read a back story about my anxieties as a child, why this journey is so tender for me, and just how long I’ve been seeking this kind of freedom.

You’ll receive the Body Luxury manifesto, but made aesthetically as gorgeous as God made our bodies.

You were not meant to spend your life obsessing over what to eat.

It’s not about the brownie, it’s about the woman eating it.

Your body responds to what you believe about yourself, more than what’s on your plate.

Noticing beauty will do more for your vitality than your 87 wellness gadgets.

Your ruthless self honesty is your best beauty serum.

When you’re over obsessing about your food, you are under living.

You can be vital, vibrant, hot, nourish your body, have a standard, but not fear foods all at the same time.

You can mature from a wellness girlie to woman living in the gloriousness of her God given biology— no longer competing with it or trying to make up for it with a 9834 item supplement stash.

The root cause is that you forget that the Kingdom of God is within you.

I made this book to be an heirloom for our daughters,

a collectible for the woman who wondered whether she’d ever be free,

a jolt of joy and a reminder of freedom, every time you walk by the book in your home.

I made this for my own daughters, with the hopes they can live the freedom and vitality God intended for women….

And so they can avoid the ever-looping health/wellness anxiety that took so much peace from me when I was young (you’ll discover in my book just how young it started for me).

I also made this for the women of my generation— you— who know very well the pipeline from innocent childhood, to disordered eating, to wellness anxiety and wondered if they’d ever be able to be both vibrant and hot, and still at peace.

I want you to know you can.

Body Luxury is where the wellness girlies mature into a relaxed vitality. You know, like the hot, thriving, older European women who’ve never heard the word Biohack in their lives?

Body luxury is the life that’s possible when we know how God truly designed us, and that relentless food anxiety was not part of that plan.

Body Luxury is not body positivity, nor is it wellness girlie obsession— it’s beyond them both. It’s a settling in to the way God designed us—and letting that faith be an essential nutrient.

The aesthetic is European Wellness X Australiana spunk.

It’s Mediterranean long table lunches X grounded English Countryside scones.

You can open it to any page and be served up short pieces, long ones or poetry that make you exhale.

The first print is limited. It ships worldwide from my home town of Perth, Western Australia.

You can get yours here.

Designed by a long time design partner of mine, Emily. You can find her info here

Shout out to Michaela, my creative right hand and my actual saviour on many occasions for almost 10 years now.

Also, a long time reader edited the words and I was so glad to have someone from this community who knew the work— ensure I wasn’t repeating myself too much ;) Thanks Steph!

I was up early this morning filming for my new book, which comes out next week. I took my husband and my eldest daughter with me and it helped so much with my candid laughs and smiles.

My husband filmed some behind-the-scenes on my phone and every time I looked over at him he was smiling so big. “You’re a natural” he’d say, like the most generously loving husband that he is.

I brought Sol, my eldest too because as she is older, I like her to see the work I do come together. They saw the latest book arrive at the door the other day and it was so nice to show them something tangible. When I ‘go and write’ in my writing space, they just see mum at a laptop. They don’t see where it goes or what it does.

It’s very cute though— my kids all have makeshift laptops that they pop open in their games, announcing ‘I’m just doing some writing!’.

It has been a long road to create this absolute beauty of a book. It is the biggest and most luxurious book I’ve ever made. Every time I walk by it in my living room, I feel a jolt of joy…. as if all of the messages inside make their way into me.

Self publishing is very hands on and I’ve come to learn I must like it that way.

I like being able to control the quality. I like being able to keep my words, my words without any tweaking of tone. I even purposely left some repetition in this one because I felt like it was needed.

Maybe that’s a little over-perfectionism, totally. But it’s also creative integrity. I don’t want to stinge on what matters— which is beauty, and the authenticity of the message.

I think about integrity a lot, especially in this climate where we are so easily thrashed around by the internet— puppets for the propaganda, unless we’re very careful.

Integrity is very rarely popular.

High integrity people aren’t ‘nice’.

They aren’t agreeable.

They aren’t performed.

They aren’t dishonest.

They aren’t able to be bought.

And people hate it.

I listen to old movies and even older people in my community speak and they just way what they mean without the fluff. It’s not rude. But still, most would coil into foetal position upon hearing something that isn’t dressed up with a thousand platitudes.

My mum is salt-of-the-earth. She won’t blow smoke up your bum. She won’t tell you something is amazing when it’s not. But she will give you the shirt off her back.

I don’t trust fake-nice people because ‘always nice’ shows a lack of integrity. You can feel the wobbles. It’s hard to trust someone who will say whatever is most pleasing in the moment.

These days ‘directness’ is mistaken for rudeness because we have become so used to over-performed hyperbole that is dishonest.

I had an assistant for 7 years who was an older dutch woman-- she never, ever used words in an inflated, fake way with me or tried to blow smoke up my bum.

She would say something was simply ‘fine’ instead of amazing because it was true.

Alex Honnold scaling the skyscraper was amazing. A new canva graphic is not.

I felt at home with her because I knew I could always trust her. I knew her words were true. I trusted her because although very caring and reliable, she wasn’t trying desperately to be ‘nice’.

I prefer people this way. I trust them. I can rely on them being in their own integrity. This matters.

I prefer being around gritty people than the perfect and over performed. I like being around people who I don’t have to prod, in order to get the truth.

Women especially are realising that being ‘nice’ all the time can make you chronically sick. In all of my studies in many different modalities— this is true across them all. People pleasing = illness. It is tiresome. It drains the soul. Because you are constantly abandoning your soul for the comfort of others and how can you animate your body in this state?

Women are realising that needing to be seen as ‘good’ by strangers who don’t know you, comes at the cost of full integrity, total honesty and inner peace. It’s too high a price to pay.

It’s too high a price to pay.

Women are realising that ‘nice’ is vague, neutral, spineless and that you can be kind, generous, thoughtful, loving, caring, compassionate but also direct, firm, and unwavering where it matters.

Know this: People hate seeing freedom, integrity and self-respect in others when they do not have it themselves.

Sometimes we step out of our integrity to soothe someone who is challenged by it. When this happens over and over and over, who are we? Where have we gone?

We’re also realising, that by withholding honesty from people, we’re assuming they’re too fragile to receive it. We’re trying to play saviour.

There are times to shut up and keep the peace. There are times for pleasantries. We’ve gotta know how to read a room and not just unleash our opinions in the wrong rooms in front of the wrong people. But constantly shoving things under the rug and putting on a fake smile cannot become a lifestyle.

Tension drains and tension kills relationships. Tension is anti-vitality.

When you are clear on how much integrity really means to you, you will be so much more free in your voice, your actions and you will know peace beyond performing.

In this climate where people are demanding voice and action from total strangers— integrity matters more than ever. People online won’t ever know what you do in your real life, away from your hand held device….

But you do.

Lotsa love,

PK XXX

PS. I cannot wait to show you this book cover. My favourite one yet— and I’ve had some pearlers!!

I thought about it this week.

What’s the hardest part about sharing online for me?

I’ve been sharing online since when I discovered Myspace and Facebook way back when we were so savage as to rate our Top Friends and then shuffle them around if we’d had a disagreement.

But I started really growing an audience 13 years ago.

Some say that online expression is the best shadow work you’ll ever do and I believe it.

Allowing yourself to be seen, truly seen by people in your own real life, can be a feat on its own. Some struggle with intimacy, vulnerability, safety.

But being seen by tens of thousands of strangers who all claim to ‘know you’?

I’m not sure we were ever designed for this insane dynamic.

As a species, we’ve had to adapt to it— the unnaturalness of having enormous amounts of people hold an opinion about you, without ever having had a conversation with you in their life.

I know this is true for celebrities, but look how many of them either have no social media, or go absolutely insane with a televised meltdown. Fame is not healthy for most. Here we are— thousands if not millions of regular Jo-blows are experiencing a fame that can be thrilling at first but incredibly challenging once the excitement wears off.

Fame or not, having a public audience takes guts. Only those who have one, really know this.

For some, it really is as easy as ‘posting and ghosting’, but for most of us it’s not.

Even after we exit the comments section and throw the phone into the drawer, we’re still there mentally.

Some of the strongest and most outspoken women I know personally, have recently decided to completely tap out from talking on ANYTHING other than their own work, because they were at breaking points, mentally.

Contrary to what the internet mob thinks— you don’t anyone a mental breakdown. You don’t owe anyone a frizzled nervous system. You don’t need to cook yourself silly in order to prove you are a good, caring citizen of this world.

You probably know this about me if you’ve been following me for any amount of time— I take extended breaks when I need them. Sometimes they’re 1 month, sometimes they’re 9 months. I always, always am off social media around the births of my babies because I simply refuse to let craziness into that sacred space.

Social media has changed so much since my first baby was born in 2017 though.

I’m not going to harp on about it— WE KNOW!

It’s never been easier for an everyday person to have a platform, to share their views and to create fame.

But we have also never had access to the details of so many global atrocities.

We are also living in a time where social media is used for such intense psychological manipulation, that family members are cutting each other off for having different political beliefs. People have become such shallow and reactive thinkers that it’s freakishly robotic.

Me-angry-because-me-told-to-be-angry- but-me-not-angry-about-dat-because-my-overlord-said-it-don’t-matter.

These things are not natural, but sadly they’ve become normal.

It’s never been easier to have a voice (yay!), or to create fame (yay??).

It’s also never been trickier to navigate this dynamic, while trying to achieve the kind of peace our nervous systems were actually designed to know…. as part of villages, who found their news out from the local billboard and simply were not expected to respond to every worldwide tragedy.

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