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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My husband is American and I am Australian— our kids are dual citizens.

My eldest, who is 8, has lived in 4 countries— Australia, England, Italy and USA. This was before she was 6. Italy is somewhere we’ve visited for extended periods several times because we have a home there— a renovated farmhouse on 60 acres of organic land. I shared a bit about it on Instagram here.

My second child has lived in three of those countries (all four minus England).

My third child, our two year old, has lived only in Australia. Poor uncultured thing.

(I hope by now you get my dry sense of humour).

People used to say to me ‘I don’t know how you do it’, when I was getting ready for our next move. I used to think to myself ‘I actually love it’.

Fast forward to today, I really don’t love it anymore. I love roots. I love community. I love routine. I love comfort. I love being close to family.

But, every 2-3 years my feet start to itch and sometimes my eye too. I can feel the wings on my back trying to spread. I need change, even if just temporarily.

I grew up with a very steady life and very little travel. We moved five minutes away when mum and dad separated when I was 5 and my mum is still in that same house today. I didn’t go on an airplane until I was 15, when I went for my first state soccer trip. Our family holidays consisted of us going to a little Aussie caravan park or a friends holiday house within 60 mins of home. I have no complaints about this, by the way.

My husband on the other hand lived a different childhood. From age 8 he moved a lot for his dad’s work— from California, to Nebraska, to Virginia, to Lake Tahoe, then to Arizona. He has stories of getting up at 4am to study (in primary school) because the east coast of the USA was academically ahead of the west coast.

I grew up and craved adventure and variety. My husband likes to travel but he just loves to stay.

We’ve been married ten years this year and we have met in the same place— we’re up for adventures, but we love ‘home’. We’ve got no desire to bounce around endlessly. That ain’t our idea of a good time.

We are not nomadic backpackers who live out of suitcases and bunny hop from country to country— that sounds exhausting to us. We like to live places. We have the most solid community in Australia, as well as community in the USA, Italy and England.

We have done some things others would think is nutso though. Like, when 32 weeks pregnant with our second child, packing up our home in London and flying back to Australia. Moving into a new house at 37 weeks and giving birth on our brand new rug in that house at 40.5 weeks pregnant. Right after that, the covid craziness hit and it seems that intuitively we knew— because we were in Australia for our postpartum with family and not alone in cold, dreary England.

I have seen our ‘moves’ as a thrill. We always knew we wanted to experience different places while our kids were little because we wanted to root down as they grew into themselves and really ensure they had a sense of belonging.

We have spent the most time in my home country, Australia, where my kids have cousins who are like extra siblings to them, aunties, an uncle and of course my mum who is the grandparent they are most attached to.

But also, my husband is an only child and his dad turns 80 this year so we do expect to spend more time there. I make sure to facetime his parents a lot and we see them at least once a year. My kids are very blessed to have four healthy grandparents who all love them. I never had a living grandfather and was only connected closely with my nanna- mum’s mum- which, was one of my most treasured relationships.

Hear me when I say that I know how important family is, especially when raising children. I just want to give that context in case you’re reading this, not knowing much about my history.

We have experienced those heart wrenching moments while living overseas, when it’s time for nanna to to fly home. The emptiness, the tears, the visceral grief of separation from someone you love. It never gets easier.

Equally, I know the expansion that comes from letting new environments show and teach me things that the familiarity of my home soil couldn’t.

I know the bonding that comes from being a family away from all families of origin, and I know so well the exhilaration of comfort when reunited once again with cousins, grandparents, aunties, uncle.

We know enough now to know the difference between an impulsive, reactive decision and a well thought out one. This is the natural wisdom that comes from actually experiencing the reality of moving overseas several times, with young children— the reality is very different to the romantic reality we conjure up in our heads.

My husband and I have sat at ‘the decision’ point many times. Do we stay or do we go? I know I’m not alone in this being a recurrent conversation for many families— especially when you have families in locations across the world. We have answered ‘stay’ more than we have answered ‘go’. Which goes to show how often the question has presented.

We have grown now to be very conservative when making these decisions, which is natural considering our children are older now, and we have lost the romanticism of regular, long haul travelling. The shine wears off after a little while and the appeal of rootedness grows stronger.

I’ve learned that there really is no perfect place. Everything choice has tradeoff. Every country has it’s issues. If you are looking for a utopia, you will have to wait for heaven. The next best thing is to create a mind that is like eden, regardless of where you live.

I’ve also learned more about myself as I’ve matured— like, the triggers which once made me move on a decision too fast before. I can see more clearly as I gather wisdom from past experiences and mature into myself.

Sometimes, I think that it must be just me who has this crazy loop running in her head. There is this longing to go and have new life experiences in far away lands where I can make sense of the world in a new way, know myself in a new way, and bond as a family in new ways too. Travel really does that. But there is then a real connection to my home land, my home country, the people here, the memories here, the ease, the comfort, the lifestyle, the bonds.

I feel always between the two and i’ve come to be at peace with that. It’s ok. It’s ok to love where you are from and also yearn to experience more beyond it.

It’s painful to consider it a ‘split’ or a ‘conflict’ when it’s not. It’s two beautiful parts of the human experience alive at once— curiosity, and connection. Variety, and comfort. Expansion, and safety.

There is a mum of three on my street from England. She told me recently that they have been deliberating about whether to go home to England or stay longer in Australia. Her family, and her husbands family are in England, but her brother recently moved with his kids to Noosa, Queensland and so her family of origin is now split across the world too.

She told me that the decision has been eating her alive and that she’d wish someone would make the decision for her. I was thinking that she could not be speaking to a more experienced person in this situation but I just said something like ‘Tell me about it sis.’ She told me she applied for a big job here, and that she would let that decide for her— whether she got it or not. It always feels easier when we sense that there is a big fat sign telling us exactly what to do and then we don’t have to own the decision for ourselves.

But then she didn’t get the job. That should have indicated that it was time to go if the job was the decider, right? But then, her husband got a really good job.

After a few months I asked her again and she looked at me with that look that says ‘this question is the bane of my existence’ and said “we still don’t know what to do.”

I know the feels sis.

Strangely, I have these conversations often. Many people are quietly stewing over a decision, waiting for something to become clear, or for someone, or some big circumstance change to make the decision for them. But life doesn’t work that way.

God gave us free will so that we would fully participate— this means owning our decisions— even with that gnawing fear that they could go pear shaped.

My husband always says “there is no bad decision here. We just have to stand by what we choose. Both options bring emotional discomfort and challenge and we can endure that regardless.”

I have had that many calls over the years, most of them Before Christ, with astrocartographers who have told me that Europe is fire for me. Luck, relationships, blessings, good home life, career opportunities, health— some of my lines through certain places (the Balearic islands!) are off the richter. I felt my moon line running right through London so strongly that I became pregnant with our second child a few weeks after moving there.

Other neighbours on our street, who have also lived internationally with their kids, told us that they too often think about returning overseas, but that the indecision got so much for them that they made an agreement to just stop talking about it for 2 years. They promised each other that in two years, they’d talk about it again. They told me something that I knew all too well— indecision is exhausting. You cannot live your life in it.

We have some other neighbours who are both from here, both have their entire families here, and have something like 20 cousins for their kids here. They have zero desire to ever leave, because their entire lives are here. For some, the situation is just simpler.

There is no right or wrong. This life is yours to live and yours to decide for. This is the weight many don’t want to carry— we don’t want this autonomy, this responsibility.

Self responsibility and the freedom it gives can feel burdensome for some. Some would much rather just be told what to do— then they can avoid that awful feeling of ‘getting it wrong’.

What I have learned about decisions is something I wrote about on here years ago— every decision requires a death. Even small ones. When you make a decision to live somewhere, you are temporarily or permanently ending your life somewhere else.

This is what we are afraid of. We are afraid of getting it wrong. We are afraid of endings. We are afraid of death.

Sure, you can always do a U-turn and say ‘hey, it didn’t work, we’re ready to go home’ or even ‘ok, times up here! Great adventure, but time to go home!’…. but it’s tiring to try and have all doors open at all times.

What do they call it? The paradox of choice? It’s true, that the privilege of being able to live anywhere, creates a heavy burden. The choice to stay, comes with a lot of what ifs.

If you’ve been a reader here for a year or more you’d have read many entries for me on this topic over the years— many personal entries written from different locations, and at different spots in my learning process. I’ve written from the place of ‘time to go’ and I’ve written from the place of ‘time to stay.’

I’ve also written from the place of ‘I have an urge to go but I can see it’s just a trigger.’

I’ve lived through many of those moments where:

— Once you make a decision to go, the place you are starts to feel and look really good. You see all the people you love, the beach is glowing, your friend pops over with sourdough and you doubt your decision.

— Resistance comes up both when you decide to stay and when you decide to go. You have to face discomfort both ways.

— I have wanted to use the bible verse “A prophet is not without honor except in his own hometown and in his own household” as an excuse to not face off with my triggers with my home town. SEE?! Jesus said to leave so bye!

I also have a split opinion on the old saying that wherever you go, there you are. It’s right in that you cannot outrun your inner world. But I know first hand that certain environments do bring out different parts of you. Different cultures, environments and lands have helped me make sense of things. I’ve known myself differently in different places.

This next big chunk of this enormous article may be one of the most practically helpful things I’ve written on the topic. It’s a big one!

From my experience, I’ve created some questions which cut deep to the core of decision making on this topic. Number 2 and 5 and 10 are big ones!

Consider this like a little guide.

Save it and come back to it when you make big decisions or small ones. Some of these questions can be applied to many other life decisions too— you will see that I ask you to really get to the root of your wrestles and bust through to freedom and clarity with these 13 questions.

These are amazing journal prompts and conversations to have with your partner/kids.

The rest of this entry is for paid subscribers. If you are one, enjoy!

If you’re not, you’re welcome to upgrade or you can continue to enjoy the many free entries I send out + the archive of Honeycomb.

Let’s dive in.

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Not just long, windy memoir style pieces but short, direct gems that can pop open things that are stuck.

There is a part of me that I don’t express a lot these days— the very direct business gal who built an 8 figure organisation in her 20’s.

The quiet investor.

The eldest daughter who promised to retire her single mum of 4 and pay off her mortgage, and so grew up and did it.

The me who successfully rewired my brain back in 2012 so that I could express parts of me that contradicted my circumstance.

I was so diligent in working on my mind— on unpacking all of the judgements I had towards success, successful people, and money.

I was 23 and I knew that to have what most people didn’t have, I had to think like most people wouldn’t think.

It freed me.

I wrote a whole section on it in my first book, Earth Is Hiring— all the things I taught myself to believe about money.

I have watched the ‘money’ world in the 10+ years since then and mostly stayed out of the conversation. I’ve watched people teach about money because they had a big launch, but then privately behave in ways that lacked integrity. They were not living abundantly or generously.

I’ve mostly stayed out of the conversation for this reason. I also entered many quiet seasons of motherhood and it just didn’t feel like my arena to be in.

I was also learning how to be a wife and mother and not constantly productive and thanks be to God, I was afforded this blessing.

Am I feeling called to talk about money again? Not really.

But I am feeling a different kind of stirring.

It’s like my soul is growing out of my current expression. I feel I’m pressed up on an edge— I want to go somewhere new— but I have to re-examine some beliefs I have in order to move freely to this next place.

What stories am I telling about big creative goals and motherhood?

Is there a secret conflict here?

Who am I judging and what is this telling me about my own conflicts?

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Loads of people do it.

Loads of people say the less honest, less edgy thing because of their gnawing fear that one day they’ll be wrong. Then it’ll be documented online. I’ll change my mind. I’ll be a fraud!

Of course there is the very real fear too that your honest, edgy ideas may initiate an onslaught of criticism that your nervous system can’t handle too.

But what if you’re most honest, pure ideas and thoughts aren’t as prickly or offensive as you think? What if when you leave the humanness in your words, and stop decorating your honesty with awkward baubles that are just distracting, people actually feel the you thats behind them?

You are worried about how your words will be received because you don’t fully stand behind them. You haven’t said what you really mean. You’ve beaten around the bush, let others opinions influence your voice, and you’re writing as if you’re already in combat with ‘those readers who just won’t get it’.

You are not at peace with putting your words out there when you are not at peace with the words. You are not at peace with the place in which you wrote them from. When you write something from the most honest part of you, there is nothing to be argued.

When you write to try and win people over, or to prove your goodness, or be seen in a certain way by your audience (good! caring! articulate! convicted only, never curious!), you will never be at peace with your work.

I believe self honesty is one of the most valuable virtues. Without honesty with ourselves, we cannot be honest with our readers and we cannot even be honest with God.

So, these pieces of advice are from my 14 years of having a public profile online— from self publishing 4, almost 5 books (two are kids books mind you),speaking on stages for 14,000 people and hearing both glittering praise and uncomfortable criticism afterwards and also just being a keen observer of my own peace and friction.

Honesty and Truth are not the same thing.

This should be incredibly freeing. It was for me when I first grasped it.

I was on a training call for a course I was taking with a man named Dr Sasha Kesic. He was teaching on the biological differences between man and woman, and how knowing these differences can create more harmony in relationships.

Truth is the language of men. It is factual. Logical. Provable. This is why masculine content centers around statistics and arguable facts that you can debate. It’s also why, men don’t tend to send each other 18 minute audio messages like women do. Men want to know where they’re meeting. ‘See you there 1pm.’ ‘Sweet.’ Men are solution oriented.

Women communicate through honesty. Honesty is subjective. Honesty is telling the truth about what we are perceiving in the moment. It is ‘this is how I feel and this is what I see and this is what I sense and this is what I’m excited about.’ Women love and notice detail where men don’t. Women send 18 minute audio messages because we need connection. Women are connection oriented.

It is very helpful to know this because if you’re a woman, you might be trying to write only things that are TRUTH, rather than what is HONEST.

I want to give you permission to share what is HONEST, even if you can’t back it up with peer reviewed studies.

Tell what you’re seeing and sensing, what you’re curious about, what you’re excited about, what you’re wrestling with, what you’re not sure about, what happened from where you sit.

You do not have to arrive at logical, arguable conclusions about everything.

Women are trying to communicate like men and are losing the softness, the freedom, the permission to just be honest about now.

This leads me to the next point…

Overcome the ‘fear of one day being wrong’ so you can live honestly.

I can’t tell you the amount of people who are crippled by this— the fear of one day being wrong about what you share now. I have suffered from it too. The thing is though, I have lived through so many ‘changes of mind’ with a public audience following along, that I had to make peace with the simple fact— you will change your mind. Usually, you can do it privately. But when you are sharing your ideas and wrestles and innocently honest thoughts with an audience from your 20’s until your late 30’s, it does add a layer of complexity.

People do expect a certain something from you. But you cannot let their expectation of you rule your life, rules your thoughts or rule your voice.

You cannot stop others, even strangers from developing a connection to your work and feeling disappointed if you stray from a certain belief or perspective. They’re allowed to do that. You have to stay true to what is honest.

In 2017 when pregnant with my first baby, and 27/28 years old, I wrote my first book titled ‘Earth Is Hiring’. I self published it, with some distribution help and went on a (sold out, toot toot), global book tour with my new babe strapped to my chest.

That book won an independent publishing award and sold many thousands of copies.

At the beginning of that book, I wrote ‘I reserve the right to change my mind.’ I knew I was young. I knew I was naive. I mean, who gives a 20 something the ability to write a book? God does, clearly. Although I was very passionate about the topics and ideas I wrote about, I inherently knew that I would grow and change and that it was important to me to declare to my readers: ‘Hey, I’m young!! This is written from where I’m at now! But I’m just letting you know that I’m free to change. I reserve that right.’

Fast forward to 2022, when I stopped printing that book. I was going through a big change personally, meeting Christ and innocently discovering what that meant.

I looked back at my old ideas in that book (and the one that followed) and cringed at some of my natural naivety. I didn’t know if i fully stood behind all of the concepts and so as a move of integrity, or so I thought, I pushed ‘pause’ on it’s distribution.

People still somehow found it in bookstores.

People bought it for exorbitant amounts of $ secondhand.

It is only recently that, as I’ve matured not only in age, but in Christ, I realise that I might always look back on my old work with a little bit of cringe— that’s the creative life. If I unpublish all of my old work because it’s not on my exact level today, I’ll have no work for my kids to look back on— no written evidence of my imperfect journey, growth, maturing individually, as a mother and a wife and as a woman of God.

When I announced to my audience on IG that I was preparing to let it be published again (unchanged, but maybe with a prologue), they were ecstatic and honestly it blew me away.

These were people who STILL followed me despite all the twists and turns I’ve made. They commented things like ‘this book changed my life!’ ‘we love watching YOUR journey and we know what to take and what to leave’, which to be honest, is the kind of relief we need to give ourselves.

Trust your audiences own discernment and intelligence. You aren’t responsible for hand holding them through YOUR evolution. They are big kids.

Your words will be cringe in 3 years, say them anyway.

I imagine my 80 year old self will look back on 37 year old me and my writing with fondness, not cringe, because she will know so well how much we change and deepen and hopefully lighten as we grow. She would laugh at the idea of me trying to only have work out there that perfectly represents my ideas now.

This doesn’t mean you want to live free of conviction. But don’t convictions take time and wrestles to arrive at?

I have let myself rest in the knowing that one of the gifts God gave me was my curiosity. I want to explore and taste and know for myself. I won’t borrow your convictions.

My work is not work of certainty, unless it is.

It is always work of curiosity.

Let that free you.

Yes, your mind might change. But what else can you be but honest about where you are now?

It might actually be that by saying it now, you can go to the next place.

Some things are not for sharing publicly.

I will wrap it up here.

Some things are for your journal. If you share them publicly, you must be sturdy in what you’ve shared. You must know that you may get advice, or praise or criticism, but you must care more about your honest expression, than about what and who people perceive you to be. When you micromanage how others see you, you strangle your honesty, your authenticity and your magnetic expression.

You may want a private, paid subscription where you can share to a smaller, more invested audience.

Or you may just want to share certain nuggets and wisdom, without sharing details of your life that are simply not meant to be shared on the internet.

Our generation needs to remember dignity and poise and elegance when it comes to our online voices.

You will become more free in your voice when you are brutally (and lovingly) honest with yourself.

You will be more at peace with what you share when you have shared it from the right place— the place that cannot be rattled by misinterpretation.

Easier said than done, maybe, but I believe we’ve got to find both freedom and peace in this online world and in our lives in general.

You don’t need to have a public platform at all. If you’re going to have one, ensure it’s life giving. Otherwise, it’s taking too much from you.

If you want more loving pep talks on creative integrity and vitality— subscribe below.

If you want to binge a 160 page guide called ‘Honest— Creative Integrity in a performative world’— it’s here.

Lotsa love,

PK XX

This is a raw riff written after a beautiful beach morning with my kids and friends. It’s unpolished, as you’ll soon see.

Many Christ followers who went down the ‘New age to Jesus’ pipeline are learning that they didn’t need to throw the entire baby out with the bath water.

They’re diving further into Jesus true teachings, unafraid of what they may find that contradicts what others day. They’re seeing crossover between things like neuroscience and biblical teachings. They’re discovering which parts of their ‘pre Jesus’ life did not need to be tossed out at that moment when they burned their tarot cards and tossed their crystals.

Many threw their manifestation rituals into the ‘ew that’s demonic now’ basket, and swung so hard in the direction of ‘God will move me around like a chess piece’ that they stopped exercising creative use of their imagination to fully participate, to pay attention to desire, to CREATE.

The pendulum swing is a signature of our generation— amplified by the ground swell of social media opinions and trends. Many saw the ‘New Age to Jesus’ pipeline as a trend. I always pushed back on that, seeing clearly that no, genuine truth seekers are running straight into Jesus because all genuine truth seekers do. Tired by their self indulgence and ambiguous spirituality, finding home in spirituality with liturgy, beauty and tradition seems natural.

I know it because I lived it.

I will say though that some of it can become trendy.

Some of it can become performative.

Once someone announces on their social media that they’re now following Christ, they can start to feel the weight of the expectation to speak, think and behave in a certain way— carbon copy christians.

They may pretend to be sure of something when they’re not.

They may borrow convictions they don’t truly have yet.

They may stop questioning things politically because of the condemnation they’ll anticipate.

You’ve got to free yourself from this. Jesus came to free us of this. Jesus would be flipping the tables that some Christians are kissing butts at.

I definitely felt the weight of expectation after I shared with my audience, over three years ago, that I was on my journey with Jesus. I felt like all eyes were on me to never mess it up— after all, it is Jesus Christ I am representing now.

Three years on and I’ve learned a thing or two, the most important thing being that faith can’t be performative and that having a ‘public profile’ can add unnecessary dynamics to what is a pure, personal spiritual life.

More so, I’ve learned more and more about the True Way of Christ and come full circle especially in understanding more about ancient christianity and Orthodoxy, which celebrates mysticism, and is a theology of beauty and of healing the soul.

I make no bones about the fact that I am not a polished American Christian gal. I am an Aussie, raised in the rougher burbs in my area by a single mum of 4 who had a shaved head and tattoos— she still does! I don’t get my nails done except at Christmas time and I go walking barefoot. Sure, I live a luxurious life in comparison to most and I am very blessed and lucky— but I’m rough around the edges— gritty— direct.

My sanctification doesn’t require that I lose my personality.

If you read my last piece you’d have read that when I first had the veil ripped, I was so devoted to understanding the way of Christ, and being born anew, that I took everything to a zero point. I threw out a lot of books that just felt too floaty and vague, and don’t even get me started on the card decks.

I did however, intuitively keep a lot of books that I inherently knew, were not to be thrown out. These weren’t Christian books— but there were solid, truthful, and wise.

Over the last 3.5 years I’ve gone through the stereotypical contemplations, including ‘should I let my kids read Harry Potter?’ And ‘is halloween demonic?’.

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We ate at one of our fav spots— a winery/restaurant with two massive nature playgrounds. Australia does this well. Parents can eat casually and kids can play. Given we each have a child on the boob on and off while watching to make sure one of our babes hasn’t fallen off the slide, we sure get a lot of convo in.

These are friends I have known for over a decade, so we can look back on ‘those days’ with equal parts cringe, innocent reflection, comedy and wisdom. We’ve all had a lasting personal brand that has endured many changing opinions, expressions and interests. All of us are at a point where we’re considering very new directions in our lives and ‘work’.

I told them that my husband and and I are considering some new business ventures that require no social media- no personal brand- and no fancy new IG with our ‘founded by *personal brand* in the bio.

They let out a sigh as if to say ‘ughhhhhh us too’.

One of them is changing direction completely and moving from online to property development.

Two of them are changing direction into in person pop ups and village style living concepts.

I live for these stories. LIVE FOR THEM. Plot twists. New passions. Becoming a beginner again. Honouring the end of a cycle and having the courage to be a ’nobody’ after being a relative ‘somebody’.

I myself (with my amazing husband) am very seriously considering the pursuits I’ve long had the courage to pursue, which require a bit of a 180. The idea of them invigorates me.

I don’t think we’re alone in yearning for more real life touch, and new challenge.

Is it a rite of passage as we approach 40? Maybe Are our thumbs sore? Likely. Are our eyeballs worn out from forgetting our blueblockers and staring into the abyss for too long after our kids have gone to bed? I dunno.

I sense our generation is feeling a spiritual exhaustion from over a decade of being chronically online, evolving personal brands and jumping through algorithmic hoops.

I sense we are approaching the kind of maturity that reminds us that while online community is nice for connecting us and helping us feel seen, especially when you feel like an outcast in your real life— nothing, and I repeat NOTHING replaces your real, in person community.

I read recently too something that Brandi Potter shared in this piece, “When care, service, and responsibility are carried too long inside structures that cannot withstand the threshold you are ready to cross, the cost eventually shows up physically.”

To me, this can mean that you can be trying to serve, and offer your gifts in places that refuse to be renewed— this can include social media.

People are so used to getting content delivered ad nauseum and for free, that it’s lost it’s value. Substack is WAY better for this— at valuing others writing and content…. but Instagram isn’t. Instagram consumption is like pacman monsters just chewing through content— with reduced sensitivity for the fact that some people are sharing their freaking SOULS on there man. You know?

My point is that sometimes, you can be pouring yourself out in a place where it’s not ripe for reception. This will affect you spiritually and physically too.

I think as early internet adopters we’re far too grown now to whinge about algorithm changes. We have lived through too many. We are wise enough to know the goodness and beauty that social media has gifted us too. Let’s never, ever forget this. It has enable any everyday individual to have whatever success they can dream up and strategise.

It’s not so much that Instagram, for example has changed that bugs us, it’s how it’s changed us.

It’s how it’s changed how we create, how we can believe that everything has to be online now.

Write a book? No! Make a digital product!

Build a cafe? No! Make a digital community!

It’s this idea that digital everything is better because it’s faster and easier.

It’s the way that, many who are really going for it online can start to prioritise their online ‘community’ and pay little attention to their actual neighbourhoods.m

It’s the way we want to document everything.

It’s how easily accessible fame is, and how the mass attention everyday people can receive now, affects relationships, makes people self indulged, and encourages god complexes in people who don’t know how to talk kindly to waiters.

(I will write another piece about fame, and how fame being so accessible is hurting us).

I’ll let it be short and sweet today— you can be magnetic and dignified. I’m guessing as a reader here you already know that, but I want to remind you.

When I was toggling my paid subscriptions on and off over the years, one of the things I’d say to my husband is “Sometimes I feel like my having my paid subscriptions on, I feel a pressure to share really personal things.”

I needed to differentiate and decide that my paid subscription was for my writing, my ideas, art— not for intimate information about my life.

That’s not to say I won’t share personal stories and vulnerable tales— of course I will. I love memoir style writing and I love being piercingly honest. Nothing less will do.

But I will only ever do so from a place of sincere offering, for creative expression, and for nothing in return. I won’t prostitute my personal information. I know you know, but you don’t need to either. Keep it dignified.

And if you’re chucking your phone in a bin and buying a local plumbing company or opening your dream bookstore— I’m cheering you on 1000% too.

Love, PK XX

My husband has just taken my kids to the beach because I’ve been bursting to write. The whole car ride down I was either playing DJ, slinging snacks, reaching my boob into my not-a-baby-anymore’s mouth for a car-ride nap and also trying to jot down some notes for all the things I want to write.

Also, I was having a mild Substack debate with a celebrity.

I’m back in the saddle, I’ve got an archive of things to write about and I’ve gone through my process and circled back to where I was when I started writing on Substack four years ago— a beautiful, two tiered publication. A free tier, and a paid tier that just goes off with the unfiltered and unperformed. The stuff that could never be on Instagram.

The paid membership is like the cordoned off room in a club (remember those days for a sweet brief moment). It’s more quiet. Better conversations. You can actually hear each other speak. The couches are velvet. There are no creeps speaking incoherently after too many drinks and breathing their alcohol breath on you. Gosh, reminds me of when I used to work on the door at the hottest Sunday session in Perth. Maybe that’s what put me off alcohol. All of those drunk guys breathing way too close to my face asking if I could usher their 12 mates ahead of the bikies that were at the front of the line.

Anyway, we’re back baby, and I’m not turning the paid subs off anytime soon. I promise I’m not going to reach premenstrual phase and decide I need to hide in a cupboard and shut it all off because I don’t want the internal pressure I put on myself to write something MIND BLOWING every week ok? I pinky promise. I’m grown now.

I am grateful to have so many loyal readers who totally understand the creative process and also my integrity with turning my subscription off when I didn’t feel I was writing regularly enough.

That integrity does matter to me.

There are some Substackers out there who charge a paid subscription even if they don’t post for 6 months. Recently I saw that Ballerina Farm charges a paid subscription for her Substack ‘The Goose Gazette’— $155 AUD a year and $16 AUD a month but she hasn’t posted since July. There are people in her private thread saying ‘um, are there any new posts?’.

It’s gonna be a no from me dawg.

Anyway, I have no grand promises to write a mind-blowing piece every week. But I do want to continue to create an piercingly honest, unperformed and high quality archive. I want that space to say the things that would make me wince, hold my breath and await the onslaught on Instagram. I want you to get to read things that go beyond the performative and diluted language we’ve learned since being trained to please the algorithm like circus monkeys.

Some writing needs a smaller room. That’s what the paid subscription is for.

That’s not what I came to write about today though, it’s just some housekeeping.

I came to give you something else.

It’s almost the start of a fresh new year. I know it can feel like a lot of pressure to think up big goals and have mega clear direction and make big compelling claims about what you’re going to do better than last year.

Be more content.

Be less content and more hungry for a wild life and move to Bali, or Poland. Poland looks really good right now.

Get off your phone and be the mum you wanna be.

Get a dumb phone and a typewriter and be as analog as possible without being Amish.

Be Amish.

Get off IG and go hard on Substack.

Write the dam book.

Learn the language.

Bake from scratch and stop giving up on your sourdough when it starts to throw tantrums.

Post everyday on IG despite feeling desperately cringe.

Change direction entirely.

Pray more.

Change your body.

Get new bathers that don’t ride up your bum so you don’t look like a try hard 20’ something every time you go to the beach.

Regulate your emotions.

Stop eating protein bars.

Stop self sabotaging.

Start using your imagination for good and not imagining your car is gonna blow up when you drive because you saw a tiny puddle underneath the tyre (true story this one).

I’m not here to ask what your big compelling move is gonna be for January. Most mums are still recovering from delivering the Christmas spirit in full force and aren’t quite up for the high pressure situation of ‘WELL HOW ARE YOU GOING TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE IN THE NEXT TWO DAYS BEFORE 2026 HUH?! HOW ARE YOU GONNA BE HOTTER AND A BETTER MUM AND WIFE AND BE MORE GODLY AND COOLER ON SOCIALS AND BE BETTER AND MORE SOUND OF AN INDIVIDUAL HUH?!’

I mean, don’t we do that every single day?

I asked you in my last piece, what will you make of your freedom?

I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I want to tell you the most important thing I’ve done recently with my freedom.

I also want to tell you something I’ve come full circle on regarding the importance of imagination and taking control of your mind… and how I briefly let the influence of some culturally christian ideas make me ‘lose my mind’.

Let me begin with the most important thing I’ve done ahead of 2026….

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