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Follow The Sun Psychology, 187 James Street, New Farm (2025)

08/10/2025

🌊 CROSS WAVES & CROSSROADS 🌊
If you’ve ever seen a checkerboard pattern on the ocean’s surface—like the sea’s decided to play chess with itself—you’ve witnessed square waves. They look magical, but they’re also dangerous. These waves form when two different weather systems create opposing wave patterns that collide at angles. What results is turbulence, unpredictability, and a whole lot of trouble for any boat (or swimmer) caught in the crossfire.
It’s a stunning metaphor for those moments in life when everything comes at you from all directions.
Maybe it’s work pulling one way and parenting pulling another. Maybe it's your sense of self clashing with the version of you you’ve had to become. Or love vs friendship. Grief vs joy. Past vs present. Whatever it is, you’re suddenly in stormy waters—being rocked by forces that don’t blend, but bash. You feel like a tiny boat in a chaotic sea. 🛶🌪️
In these times, we might:
💥 Smash into the rocks and wash up somewhere we don’t recognise, kept company by our version of Wilson the volleyball.
🛟 Be lucky enough to be rescued by a mental health chopper disguised as a friend, therapist, or unexpected insight.
⚓ Make it to shore, patch ourselves up, and wait for clearer weather.
🌊 Or we might capsize completely—momentarily lost beneath the swell.
Here's the truth: we can't always avoid rough seas. But we can learn to read the weather.
That means checking in not just with what’s going on around us—but also what’s happening within. Our thoughts. Our nervous systems. Our energy levels. Our needs. And then adjusting our sails, changing course, or dropping anchor if need be.
This is what mental health work is often about: 🧭 learning to sail—flexibly, adaptively, wisely. Not so we avoid storms forever, but so we don’t lose ourselves when they hit.
Yes, it’s tempting to never set sail again—to stay on solid land and play it safe. But in doing so, our world can shrink… and we can shrink with it. There is beauty, adventure, and awe waiting out there—if we learn how to dance the tide with the right safety gear on. 🧡
And if you’re in Brisbane and want to explore these waters in a walk and talk session, details are in the bio.

19/09/2025

🌵✨Spring is stirring down in Australia - quietly, stubbornly, beautifully. Just like this cactus: still a bit scruffy, still covered in old debris… but blooming anyway.
What always gets me is that something so spiky, so defensive, can push out something so tender and beautiful. It’s a reminder that growth doesn’t have to look graceful. That healing can be messy. That beauty and pain often exist side by side.
And if you look closely - in the background, there’s another plant that looked completely done for just days ago. Dried up. Withered. Finished. But zoom in and you’ll see it: tiny green shoots pushing through. Life quietly insisting on itself, even when no one’s watching.
The spring equinox reminds us that change is constant. That what feels lifeless today might just be gathering energy beneath the surface. Nature doesn’t rush its process. It waits for the right conditions - sun, water, patience - and then… life.
Some gentle spring wellbeing nudges:
🌞 Step outside when you can — let the light touch your face.
🌱 Notice small things growing (including you).
🧹 Clear out one little space, mentally or physically.
💧Hydrate. No one blooms dehydrated.
🌬️ Breathe slowly. Like, really slowly.
You don’t need to be in full bloom to be growing. You don’t need to be perfect to be powerful. The bloom isn’t any less beautiful just because it’s surrounded by thorns and old leaves - in fact, that contrast is the story.
Here's to green shoots, stubborn blooms, and allowing life to do its quiet magic. 🌼

02/09/2025

When You’re Chill but Also a Bit Weird About It 🦎✨ Just your average Australian Water Dragon, serving full lizard lounge-core realness.
From one angle: graceful. Regal. Zen master of the sunbeam.
From another? That one awkward leg sticking out like it forgot what it was doing there.
We get it, mate. Balancing is hard - especially when you’re halfway between “I’ve got this” and “What even is happening right now?”
But here’s the thing: that leg is doing its job.
It might look weird, but it’s keeping our scaly friend steady while he hangs out on the edge of comfort and caution. And aren’t we all a bit like that?
Flopped out somewhere between poised and panicked, one metaphorical limb doing something extremely questionable… but still holding us up?
🐉 Fun fact: Australia Water Dragons are masters of adaptation.
They regulate their body temperature, pause when they’re uncertain, and don’t rush a thing. They’ll sunbake for hours if that’s what the moment calls for.
Still. Watchful. Alert, but not in a hurry.
When we’re in transition — career changes, relationship shifts, existential plot twists — we don’t always need to move.
Sometimes, the wisest thing is to stay where we are, breathe a little deeper, and wait for the next clear signal.
💛 It’s okay to rest in limbo.
💛 It’s okay to look soulful and a little weird.
💛 You don’t need to have it all figured out — you're balancing better than you think.
Tag your most majestic, slightly-unhinged support limb 🦵👇
Let’s hear it for the awkward pause before the elegant leap.

27/08/2025

✨Hummingbird state of mind✨
Caught this little blur of magic on a recent trip to Ecuador — a place that holds a special place in my heart 💚 It’s where I first started to really listen to the non-human world, which eventually nudged me toward a career in therapy.
After a busy stretch rehabbing body & mind, I found myself sitting still (rare!)… totally captivated. This hummingbird looked so graceful, almost floating — but it was working incredibly hard. Did you know their wings beat up to 80 times a second? And they need to feed every 10–15 mins just to stay alive. Tiny powerhouse.
It made me wonder: what if healing doesn’t always look like rest? What if grace and effort can coexist? What else could we learn from the natural world, if we paused long enough to notice?
🌿 Nature-based therapy isn’t always tree-hugging and forest baths (though, those are great too). Sometimes it’s just sitting quietly, being curious, and letting nature mirror back a truth you didn’t know you needed.
💡Fun fact: Hummingbirds remember every flower they’ve visited. Their brain is the largest, relative to body size, of any bird! Tiny, but sharp.
More hummingbird wisdom:
— Move with intention
— Rest often
— Feed yourself (literally + emotionally)
— Don’t be fooled by size — your presence is powerful
Here’s to slowing down, tuning in, and letting nature guide the way 🌍💫

20/08/2025

Shifts at the periphery are where magic quietly happens. ✨

At first it looked like the sand itself was moving… then I realised thousands of tiny blue soldier crabs were marching across the flats. 💙 Some clustered in dazzling schools, while others wandered solo through tide-cut channels.

Here’s the cheeky twist: unlike most crabs, these little legends actually walk forwards instead of sideways. Maybe nature’s gentle nudge reminding us to take a step forward too? 😉 And when the environment shifts (like the tide rolling in), they don’t panic — they adapt, digging down until the coast is clear.

Watching them felt like standing in a liminal moment — that in-between space where tides turn, light changes, or our own moods ebb and flow. Nature doesn’t resist; it adapts, shuffles, and finds new paths.

Taking a moment to soak it all in — noticing the movement, the patterns, the tiny details — is its own kind of therapy. Soften your gaze, indulge in wonder, and notice what you might otherwise miss. Because sometimes the most healing shifts happen quietly, at the edges of your awareness. 🌊💫

29/07/2025

☀️🪶 "Just out here drying out the drama..." 😌✨

Meet the Australasian Darter — Brisbane’s own feathered therapist!
This quirky bird doesn’t just swim like a champ — it pauses, stretches out, and lets the sun and breeze do their healing work. 🌬️🌿

Unlike ducks, darters don’t have waterproof feathers.
So after a dive, they have to stop, rest, and dry out in the sunshine. ☀️

🧘‍♀️ Nature’s reminder:
We can’t go-go-go forever.
We need to pause, soak in the light, and breathe.
No shame in needing a moment to dry out — in fact, it’s essential. 🌞

🧠 Wellbeing wisdom from the darter:

✨ Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is pause
✨ Find your patch of sun
✨ Strike your best dramatic bird pose
✨ Let nature do its thing

Because burnout isn’t the vibe — but breezy balance definitely is. 😎
Try it today. You don’t need feathers to benefit. 🪶💛

11/06/2025

The final volcano: Imbabura 🏔️ (aka the Big Daddy of the Ecuador Volcano Challenge)
After a much-needed rest (and an emotional breakup with Cotacachi due to weather + hiker meltdown), we were back at it. 5am drive, stunning sunrise, and Jorge + Robinson driving us a bit further up Imby to save the legs and lungs🙏
At 4,609m (15,121 ft), Imbabura is no joke. It’s steep, it’s moody, and on this day… it was dramatic.
We split into 3 squads:
🚀 Team Rocket Strapped to Their Arses (Bonnie, Tracy, Robinson) – sheer respect
⏱️ Team Metronome (Dom, Alice, Steve) – the human hiking BPMs
🐢 Team Tortuga (me + Jorge) – bringing vibes and questionable lung function
I started with a cough and cold, post-Fuya-Fuyarghhhh slip and slide and wet community day, and it showed. Legs: fine. Lungs: not vibing with altitude. I listened to the bod and bailed pretty early. No regrets. Jorge and I spent the day chilling in nature, dozing, chatting, and watching the fog and rain roll back in like a moody ex.
Team Metronome returned about lunchtime like soggy legends after getting to the ‘shoulder’. Then Team Rocket arrived at about 4pm looking like they’d fought Mordor, lost, and made peace with it (after wrangling it in a headlock). Rain. Wind. Mud. Sheer drop offs. But they crushed it. RESPECT! 🫡
🏅 Massive shoutout to Bonnie & Tracy – resilient, fearless, and somehow still stylish in appropriate storm gear. You win the 🐐 award.
Oh but wait – Imbabura wasn’t done. The drive out? Chaos. Mudslides, sliding vans, and near-death experiences. Even Dom stopped joking. That’s when you know ish is getting real! Finally, I horse-traded my last functioning hiking pole to Robinson and swore allegiance to flat ground forever.
Swipe for Robinson’s epic vids of the last 3 climbs they show the routes, altitude etc 🎥
Next post: R&R and gratitude for the Ecuadorian journey💛💙❤️

09/06/2025

Community Day - Part 2. This is the part I’ve been most looking forward to sharing — how the money raised from our volcanic escapades (read: sweaty, wheezy uphill struggles) is going to be used. Spoiler alert: it’s not just about gringos chasing altitude dreams, it’s about impact. Real, lasting, community-driven impact. The Phoenix Projects are focusing on sustainable development projects that empower communities to thrive long after we’ve come down from the clouds. Enter: Plan Moo, Plan Pollo, Plan Huerta… and the crowd favourite — Plan Cuy! 🐹✨ Yes, cuy as in guinea pigs. But we’re not talking cute classroom pets here — these little guys are a traditional (and tasty) part of the Andean diet, and they’re starring in one of the most innovative, community-led sustainability plans around.
In the photos, you’ll see a brand new guinea pig house going up (cue adorable squeaks) under plan Cuy — and this is no pint-sized pet cage. Each one can house up to 500 guinea pigs, with the little legends sold every three months at the local market. It’s a fluffy, fast-replicating, and surprisingly effective economic model. These cuy houses are funding engines that generate sustainable income for the community 🐾💰 This particular guinea pig palace will be managed by the school, with profits going toward important extras like cultural appreciation days, school celebrations, and community events. Plan Cuy is already helping families in nearby areas generate income — now the schools are stepping in too, creating self-sustaining funding sources that keep the community vibrant and proud. It’s this kind of thoughtful, culturally rooted approach that makes The Phoenix Projects so inspiring. So to everyone who supported the Ecuador Volcanoes Challenge — whether you donated, shared, cheered, or just followed along out of curiosity — this is what your generosity has grown. Not just climbing mountains, but building futures. Stay squeaky, stay generous (fundraising link is still in my bio), and checkout for the other ways your beautiful donations are being put to good use! Another enduring memory: jamming an extra 5-6 locals into the van for the trip back to town 😂

09/06/2025

Climbing for a Cause (and Questionable Cardio): Funding the Future, One Volcano at a Time!!! Why would one slightly overconfident, moderately underprepared but incredibly determined human commit to climbing not one but multiple Ecuadorian volcanoes? Well… to celebrate 20 years of The Phoenix Projects working with indigenous communities in Ecuador, Peru, and Guatemala, of course! 🎉🌋🇪🇨15 years ago, I lived in Otavalo and travelled every day up winding mountain paths to the rural communities of Huayrapungo and Muenala. Urcusiqui school now brings together children from Huayrapungo and Muenala, after a funding rationalisation meant those schools had to close. Many of the kids walk hours each day to get there! But they show up, with grit and pride. And let me tell you, when we arrived, they showed up. Full community attendance—Mums, Dads, Grandparents, siblings, even a few curious perritos 🐕. Each grade performed music and drama, celebrating Mother’s Day, Family Day, and the 20th anniversary of Phoenix Projects. And the Mums? They weren’t going to let the kids have all the spotlight—they danced their hearts out with grace, humour, and enough rhythm to keep even the clouds entertained. The day was also a beautiful reminder of the community’s deep connection with Pachamama—Mother Earth. Before the performances, there were traditional offerings made to honour her and thank her for all that she provides. We feasted together—whole pig style. Mamitas working side by side in the kitchen, serving choclo (a local fave that’s somewhere between steamed corn and popcorn), slow-roasted pork, potatoes and salad. Every child, parent, teacher (and every stray volunteer with trekking poles) left with full bellies and takeaway plates for the family. There was laughter, pride, rhythm (from them), and effort (from us). Yes, the mums did pull us gringos up to dance, and yes, the dads mostly watched from the fence! And you could feel it in the air—joy, community, and deep respect for Dom and Doreen, who’ve walked alongside these communities for two decades. It was one of the most moving days I’ve had in a long time. And it’s only the beginning. Part 2 - where the fundraising goes!

07/06/2025

Day 3 – Welcome to Fuya Fuya, folks! Or as I now like to call it: Fuya Fuyarghhhhh—the sound you make when you’re face-down in a freezing mud slick, wondering where your dignity went. “Fuya Fuya” means “cloudy” in the local Kichwa language, which is apt considering we hiked through roughly seventeen types of cloud, mist, fog, and soul-crushing drizzle. The volcano is a sacred place to the local indigenous communities, believed to hold powerful energy—and today, it very powerfully tested every fibre of our being, balance, and waterproof gear. We started strong. Spirits were high. Legs were ready. Rain jackets were cinched to our eyeballs. But as we climbed higher, the path became a mucky test of willpower and waterproofing. There was no trail—just faith, fog, and some grass tufts masquerading as footholds. The higher we got, the more slippery and sketchy it became. Near the summit, our incredible guide Robinson—protector of lost souls and destroyer of my dignity—looked me dead in the eyes and said, “You—don’t move!”. As the rest of the group huddled behind, he bravely scouted ahead in search of a safe route through what was now essentially an ice-cold mud luge on a 45° angle. Sadly, we had to turn back. Fuya Fuya had spoken, and she said “Not today, gringos.” The descent? Oh, sweet mercy. A true masterpiece of slow-motion chaos. At one point I was sliding down on my bum. Then my tummy. Then, in a surprise twist, I found myself snared in thick tufts of grass—hanging upside down by one leg like a fly in Pachamama’s web. (Yes, this actually happened. No, I have no idea how.)I bent one hiking pole valiantly trying to stay vertical. Robinson—bless him—offered me one of his. I bent that one too. He kindly held my hand the rest of the way down, probably wondering how on earth I had survived this long in life without a helmet and a full-time spotter. When we finally reached the bottom, Robinson gently suggested that perhaps I skip the next volcano. Something about “your pace,” “your footwear,” and “having no functional poles left.” But hey, if you didn’t almost lose a leg to a volcano, were you even in Ecuador?

07/06/2025

My second time ever around Lago Cuicocha and somehow my legs still haven’t forgiven me. 😅 But wow—what a day! This epic crater lake, nestled at the foot of the Cotacachi Volcano, is as breathtaking as ever (literally… the altitude and the views will do that). 🌋💨💙

The trail winds around the rim of the volcanic crater, offering sweeping views of the turquoise lake below and cloud-wrapped peaks beyond. At its highest point—3,512 metres above sea level—we (ok…maybe just me!) were all questioning our life choices, fitness levels, and the meaning of uphill. But then, just as you think you might lie down and let the mountain claim you, the landscape slaps you in the face with some ridiculous beauty and you keep going. Nature is rude like that. 😍

We had absolute dream hiking conditions—sunny, clear skies, but not too hot (thanks, weather gods 🙏). Perfect for soaking in those killer views and pretending you’re in a National Geographic documentary narrated by David Attenborough. BUT… spoiler alert: these bluebird skies did not stick around. Day 3 came in strong, and let’s just say Pachamama reminded us all who’s really in charge. 🌧️🌬️🫣

Physically? Challenging. Mentally? Mostly me negotiating with my own legs. But spiritually? Absolutely nourishing. The car ride to the trailhead was a moment in itself—rolling past patchwork fields, grazing cows, and sleepy Andean villages. The volcanoes here don’t just loom—they buzz. There’s something ancient and electric about them. A reminder that this land is alive. ⚡🌋

Also, highlight of the hike (besides surviving): reconnecting with my old boss-turned-adventure-buddy Doreen from my Guatemala days! And making new trail besties, especially Alice, who somehow managed to keep pace and crack jokes the entire time. A true hiking unicorn. 🦄🥾

Feet status at the end: sore but still functional. No donkeys were harmed (or summoned) in the making of this memory. 🚫🐴

Would I do it a third time? Probably. Ask me again once I’ve regained feeling in my toes. 😂

02/06/2025

Day #1/5: A 5 hour hike around the Otavalo-El Lechero-Peguche Waterfalls circuit circuit. Activating the lungs, legs and feet for what’s to come. I feel very grateful to reconnect with this powerful and beautiful land and to help underprivileged communities along the way. If you’re interested in donating to a worthy cause, please hit up the link in the bio!

Follow The Sun Psychology

08/10/2025

19/09/2025

02/09/2025

27/08/2025

20/08/2025

29/07/2025

11/06/2025

09/06/2025

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