Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

"Just living is not enough," said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."  ~Hans Christian Andersen

Starting over, that’s something that I’ve mastered over the years. From starting the new school year and buying a new school bag / stationary to get me through the year, to moving my life from one place to another – to university, to Australia, then back to my roots. Whilst I can count the number of blogs I’ve owned on one hand, I know that there’s always something rather symbolic about why I drifted away from the old and into the new – I craved change. From the breakup of a rather destructive and mentally draining relationship, to kick starting a little venture with plenty of tea and cake (okay, and lipstick), and then where I ventured out to chase my dreams on the other side of the world. They’ll always have a little place in my heart, I can’t erase the memories after all, but sometimes it’s best to just pull the plug and start afresh.

I’ve been out of the blogging game for a long time, or so it feels, and with it I feel like I’ve lost a little bit of myself. I know that seems terribly pitiful but for someone who gained a lot from sharing experiences, words of wisdom, and showing off the calorific delights that I produced (in the name of procrastination), to just suddenly stop doing that leaves a bit of an empty hole, something I’m ready to fill again.

So why Little Fish Big Sea? As an aspiring mariney person (insert biologist, ecologist, environmentalist etc) it seemed rather fitting; I’m simply a girl trying to find her place in the big wide world. It seems kind of ironic that I wanted to get lost in blogging again as a means of finding myself, but hey, it works, and it only really became apparent today that I needed to do this. I was taking a walk through the local garden centre – I know, highly exciting Bank Holiday weekend – and I came across the Red Admiral (as pictured above). I haven’t seen many butterflies this year and I know a fair few have passed the same comment, so naturally I stopped to admire. Very carefully I placed my hand down and without coaxing it, the butterfly stepped onto my hand. It was a beautiful moment and from that point onwards I’ve felt different. I have a little more life. A little more sparkle. A little more to give. 

Just like the butterfly, one must go through some change to progress. We are all butterflies waiting to happen.

Rache, xo. 

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