So many times when I’ve felt lost, I’ve poured my energy into making a difference… somehow. It’s got me through some of my most challenging times and has a special way of lifting me out of heaviness, anxiety, and a sense of lack of control. When the world feels unbearable, when the weight of suffering and injustice presses down, I turn to action—small, tangible, meaningful actions that remind me I am not powerless.
This evening, as I stepped outside into the golden light to take a few photos of the tree. I’ve just finished decorating for the ChillOut Festival, I felt that familiar shift. An ever so quiet yet determined kind of hope. The world is unraveling in ways that feel almost impossible for me to hold, but this tree—covered in colour, in light, in a gesture of joy and connection—is something real. A way of saying, I will not look away. I will not forget. I will not allow the weight of it all to make me stop caring.
ChillOut is more than just a festival—it’s a celebration of love, inclusivity, and community. In a time when division, fear, and misinformation seem to spread faster than truth, events like this matter more than ever. They are spaces where people can be seen, where joy becomes an act of defiance, where connection reminds us that we are never truly alone. The simple act of decorating a tree feels like a small but meaningful way to honour that—to create something as an invitation to others, that sparks a moment of joy and stands as a reminder that we all deserve to feel safe, valued, and free to be ourselves.
I for one know it’s easy to feel powerless. To feel as though nothing I do in my small corner of the world could possibly make a difference. But I refuse to believe that. Every choice we make—who we show up for, how we use our voice, where we put our energy—matters.
When I feel overwhelmed, I come back to the things I know are true:
Community is everything.
There is power in gathering. In standing beside people who also refuse to turn away. In shared meals, quiet conversations, in showing up when someone needs you. In a world that feels increasingly disconnected, choosing to foster real connection is an act of resistance.
Growing is an act of defiance.
There is something deeply grounding about putting my hands in the soil, tending to something that will feed and nourish. It reminds me that no matter what is happening in the world, I can still nurture life. And I can share it. Growing food, sharing food, creating something from what I have—this is something no one can take away.
Teaching my children to question, to think, to care.
The world will try to tell them who they should be, what they should believe, what they should accept. My job is to make sure they know how to think for themselves. How to stand firm. How to recognise truth when it is being buried. How to care, even when caring feels hard.
Choosing where to put my time, my energy, my money.
The world thrives on noise. On distraction. On keeping us so exhausted that we stop questioning, stop resisting, stop believing we can change anything. I refuse. I choose to support the people doing the work, the businesses that value integrity, the stories that need to be heard. Every dollar, every moment, every act of attention is a choice.
Refusing to lose hope.
Because that’s what they want—for us to feel too overwhelmed to act, too exhausted to care. But hope is something we build. It is not passive, and it is not naive. It’s a decision to keep going, to keep believing in the possibility of something better, to keep creating moments of light even when everything feels unbearably dark.
I don’t have all the answers. Some days, I feel as though I have none at all. But I know that I can keep showing up. I can keep building, growing, sharing, questioning, resisting. I can keep choosing care over apathy, truth over comfort, connection over indifference.
And today, in this small act of decorating a tree, of adding colour and light to the world around me, I remind myself that even the smallest acts of love, of community, of defiance—matter.
Because they do. And I want you to know that I am here for you.
You may also want to read this on my blog: Forest Bathing for Creative Self-Care
Natasha xx
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