Holding it all, gently

I haven’t written one of these in a while. Not because there hasn’t been anything to say just that it’s taken time to find the edges of it.

Lately I’ve been sitting in the blur between roles. Being a carer. Being a child.

Both of my parents have cancer. Just typing that still makes my chest tighten. It’s the kind of sentence that rearranges everything. Some days I’m the organiser; booking scans, checking medications, taking notes during consults. Other days I’m just the son. Quiet, tired, sitting on the floor beside my mum or watching the footy with my dad. The shift between those two selves is constant. And exhausting. But also intimate in a way I didn’t expect.

I’ve been back in Sydney for a while now. I want to say it feels like coming home, but that wouldn’t be true. The city doesn’t feel like mine. Not anymore. But it holds traces. Moments where memory folds into the present; sitting at a bus stop I used to walk past every day, standing in a café that still smells like 2012. It’s like walking through someone else’s house and remembering it used to be yours.

Work-wise, I’ve had a lot of conversations. About regeneration. About design in Australia. About democracy, participation, street closures, bike futures, public life. Some of them have felt sharp and full of possibility. Others have blurred together. I think I’ve been reaching in too many directions. Trying to hold onto everything at once.

In the middle of all this I did a Life Design course with Sylvie Abookire (who is one of my favourite humans), and honestly, it helped. Not in the solve-everything way. But in the now-I-can-breathe-again way. The kind of clarity that doesn’t rush you, just reminds you that life gets to have seasons. That not everything has to happen at once. And also met some lovely people in the process. (Although, funnily life got in the way a few times).

There’s been a weight, too. A pressure I can’t quite shake. Messages I haven’t answered. People I care about who I’ve drifted from. I’ve felt guilty. Like I’m letting things slip. Like I should be quicker, sharper, more together. But I’m not. Not right now.

I’ve had to say no to some things that mattered… a research residency, a few projects I would’ve said yes to in another season. I’ve been exploring and learning from the great minds and people in communities like RADAR and MetaGov. Places full of ideas and energy. But right now, I just can’t hold it all. The time zones make it harder. The headspace even more so.

And yet. There have been bright spots.

Cycling has saved me more than once these past weeks. The long flat stretches. The rhythm of breath and pedal. The way the road lets you think without pressure. I’ve been swimming too - early mornings, cold water, the kind that shocks your system just enough to make you feel alive. I’m trying to ride most days. Even just around the block. It helps.

I’ve parked Street Days for now. Not forever. Just for breath. I still write things down. Still listen. Still dream a little. But I know I need to pay attention to what’s here, now.

And… I’m about to start something new. I’m joining the City of Sydney, working on transformation. I’m excited. Truly. It feels good to be stepping into something that aligns with how I think and what I care about. Something civic. Something real. I’ll share more soon.

Music has been constant. A quiet thread through it all. It’s held more than I thought it could. So have my friends. Especially the ones I’ve known for years — the ones I’ve found again recently. There’s something beautiful about being seen by someone who knew you ten versions ago, and still gets you.

I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed the zines, the night-time scribbles, the thinking that doesn’t need a purpose. Mexico gave me that. I’m still trying to find it here. Still trying to give myself permission.

And maybe most of all; I’ve been learning to let care in. To stop holding everything alone. I’ve had some moments lately. People holding my hand. Offering tea. Listening without needing it to make sense. I’m slowly learning to be wrapped in the arms when I need to be.

Still here. Still learning how.