Changing Landscapes

Right now, I’m writing from the road - travelling through the vast, wild beauty of the Australian outback and along the ever-shifting coastline with my family. Each day brings a new view, a different horizon. One moment we’re surrounded by red earth and ancient stillness, the next we’re watching the ocean crash and retreat in its rhythmic dance.

As I sit in the passenger seat for hours on end, it’s impossible not to draw the connection between the landscapes outside the window and the ones within.

Our emotional world, like the land, is constantly changing.

Some days feel like wide, sunlit savannah plains - open, calm, easy to move through.
Others resemble dense rainforests or deep valleys, where visibility is low and everything feels heavier.
From the cold winter down south, to the scorching tropical heat of the north, we’re gifted a gentle sunrise, a breeze that softens, and the shade of a tree we didn’t know we needed.

And just like the land, our emotions aren’t fixed. They shift, they pass, they return, they soften.

The danger lies in forgetting that.

We often get stuck in a feeling and mistake it for forever.
We start to live there - pitching a tent in the storm rather than riding it out.
But emotions are not destinations. They’re not the whole map.
They’re signals. Messengers. Temporary landscapes that offer insight into what’s happening within.

Then there’s the caravan…

Living in close proximity to your entire family in a small house on wheels?
Let’s just say - it’s the ultimate test of emotional navigation.

There’s no door to slam. No room to storm off to.
Just a few square metres of shared space, shifting moods, and everyone’s inner landscapes colliding.

We’re navigating:

• A tween discovering her growing independence but still craving connection

• A maiden, our blossoming teenage daughter, fresh into her menstrual cycle - raw, tender, fiery, exploring her boundaries

• And me - dancing through the waves of perimenopause, where one moment I feel grounded and wise… and the next I’m sulking because "nobody understands me"

It’s intense. It’s beautiful. It’s messy.
And honestly - sometimes the emotional regulation works… and sometimes it doesn’t.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?
Just like nature, we’re not meant to be perfectly still or predictable. We’re meant to move, to shift, to learn.
To repair. To grow. To meet each other where we’re at.

So how do we navigate them?

Here are a few gentle truths I’ve been reminded of on this journey:

• Observe, don’t identify.
  When we feel something deeply - lonely, frustration, anxiety, sad - it’s easy to become that emotion. But this is a reminder - you are not the desert. You are the traveller moving through it. The feeling isn’t all of you - it’s just part of your current scenery.

• Let it move.
  Emotions are energy in motion. If we allow them to rise, express, and release without judgment, they often pass more quickly. Like a wave on the shore, they come… and they go.

• Tune into your inner compass.
  Ask yourself: What is this emotion pointing me to? What do I need right now - rest, support, space, nourishment? Feelings can be guides if we learn to listen.

• Trust the rhythm.
  No landscape stays the same forever. Just as the land changes with the sun, the wind, the season - so too will your inner terrain. Trust that softness follows the storm. That clarity comes after the fog.

• Come back to your heart.
  One practice I return to again and again is Heart focused breathing - a technique shared by the HeartMath Institute
  It’s simple, powerful, and always available: gently slow your breath, bring your awareness to your heart space, and breathe as if the breath is flowing in and out of your heart.
  This anchors me when emotions feel too big. It softens the reactivity and opens a space to respond with compassion - both inward and outward.

Practice with me below:

As I look out at this ever-changing landscape, I’m reminded again and again:
Nature doesn’t apologise for being inconsistent.
She just is. Shifting, transforming, offering her wisdom in every phase.

And maybe that’s what emotional navigation is about - not getting it right, but staying present enough to recognise where we are, and kind enough to keep walking through it.

So wherever you are right now - emotionally, physically, spiritually - know that it’s okay to be there.
But you don’t have to stay.
Keep walking. Keep breathing. Let the land within you change.
Let it teach you something.

And if you ever feel lost in your emotional landscape, remember:
You are not alone. And you are not stuck.
You are simply in transition. And that, too, is sacred.

Big love from the road,

Kelly xxx