Failure. It’s a word that can stop us before we even start. I’ve lost count of the number of times people have asked me, “How do you get over the fear of failing?” The truth is, I don’t always get over it — I’ve just learned to reframe it.

When we think of winning, it’s easy to picture a gold medal, a trophy, or being the best in the room. But true winning isn’t about being number one right away—it’s about being a little better today than you were yesterday.

Sitting on a plane recently, I noticed the airport was building a new runway. There were construction delays, diversions, and aircraft lined up from different terminals, all feeding into a single runway. It struck me — in that moment of frustration and waiting — that this was progress in action. Messy. Disruptive. Inconvenient. Yet absolutely necessary.

How often do we hold ourselves back, waiting for everything to align before we take that first step? We convince ourselves that tomorrow will be better, that next week we’ll be more prepared, or that someone else will give us the go-ahead. But the truth is, tomorrow is never guaranteed, and the “perfect” moment rarely arrives.

In today’s world it can feel almost impossible to stay positive. With so much heartbreak, conflict, and uncertainty around us, the negatives often seem louder than the positives.

We often chase achievements, but true meaning comes alive when we share it with others. My 88-year-old mum — dressed as Catwoman — reminded me of that in the most unexpected way.

We all love comfort. It feels safe, familiar, predictable. Comfort is the place where we don’t have to think too hard or stretch ourselves too far. But here’s the truth: comfort can be your greatest enemy.

I spent years wondering why anyone needed a ‘dog and bone’—then realised fitting in sometimes means learning to laugh at yourself.

I’ve learned not to look too far ahead. Life moves fast, and trying to predict or control what’s around the corner often just leads to overwhelm.

One little act of silliness can’t fix the challenges our public hospitals face. But it can remind us that even in the toughest places, there’s still room for joy — and that joy can be contagious.

There are so many times we try to hide our vulnerability. We strive to be seen as strong, capable, in control — like we’ve got it all together. Somewhere along the way, we’ve been taught that showing vulnerability means we’re weak, not up to the pressures of life.

How many of us have made a mistake and instantly feared it would be the undoing of us? That sinking feeling… the panic, the self-doubt. We beat ourselves up and worry about the fallout.

But what if that so-called mistake was actually the beginning of a miracle?