N for Noticing

On living a devoted life from A to Z

Hi friends, I wrote this over a few days of brain fog...I’m a bit lost for words, but I hope my reflections make sense and offer something helpful, or at least a little comfort if you’ve ever felt the same. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for stopping by to read this piece. Please take care and be kind to yourself 🩶 With love and gratitude, Bonnie

Photo by Won Young Park on Unsplash

When the sun shifted from Leo into Virgo last week, I found myself free-falling into a funk.

Unanchored. Unfocused. Uninspired. Just blah.

It appeared without warning – like Melbourne’s four seasons in one day.

It’s rare for me to lose all sense of direction and motivation, especially when life’s been steady and peaceful. No chaos to manage. No major health issues to worry about. And the days are getting longer and warmer again.

Yet here I am, feeling disoriented and discombobulated.

My mind – always wanting to be helpful – kept waving its list of possible reasons, urging me to check the boxes, fix whatever went wrong, and carry on as usual. I was tempted to follow the mind, knowing it’d help me restore a sense of control and feel useful and productive again.

But this time, I decided not to halt the descent. Not right away.

Too often in the past, I rushed through unpleasant experiences, bypassing them so quickly I never stopped to hear their messages. And then I’d end up learning the same lessons the long, hard way.

So, I gave the funk some space to linger. I traced its shape, counted its pulses, and followed my body’s cue – one breath at a time.

When I stopped trying to make sense of anything, I noticed everything. Disappointment weighed heavily on my shoulders. Loneliness hollowed my heart. Fear coiled tight around my spine. Insecurity froze my hands and feet. Each feeling had its own colour, its own movement, its own story waiting to be heard.

As I watched on, the stories revealed themselves: old, familiar whispers – you’re not enough, you don’t belong, you’ll always be alone.

All the feelings were real. But the thoughts behind them? None were absolute truths.

I saw how these beliefs had once helped me survive, even succeed. But they had also kept me small, held me back from my own freedom, until my body finally said no more.

The funk felt like old calluses – hard, stubborn, still protective. I knew it’d take time and patience to soften and shed it, layer by layer, letting the new skin underneath breathe again.

Photo by Ksenia Makagonova on Unsplash

Over the years, I’ve learned that nearly every healing path builds on the same foundation: the ability to notice what’s happening, inside and out, with compassion and curiosity.

As mindfulness teacher Cara Lai wrote recently:

“Mindfulness is not about trying to change how you feel. It’s about honoring the naturalness of exactly what you’re feeling and letting it have its life for as long as it needs to. All of it is nature. It all belongs. It all has a place in the fabric of life.

… it’s our ability to observe our own minds, and in turn make choices that don’t create more suffering, that makes us unique as a species. The invitation is for us to open to the naturalness of what’s happening in our minds, with compassion and interest, without judging it.”

Thoughts and feelings are part of being human. It’s how we experience ourselves and the world. However, many of us often mistake them for who we are.

And modern life doesn’t help either. Every headline, ping, flash of light, and loop of background music tries to hijack our attention for profits. We’re pushed and pulled by the emotions of others, swept up in dramas that aren’t ours. It’s easy to forget what’s true and what’s important.

This is why noticing – the simple act of witnessing our inner and outer world – matters so much, especially now. Like sitting in a theatre, watching our thoughts and feelings and behavoiurs play out on the screen. No judgment. No censorship. Just awareness.

It sounds simple. But it’s not always easy.

Turning our gaze inward takes courage – to meet our own shadow, to let the masks drop, to see ourselves as we are, unfiltered and unpolished. Yet this is also where love and devotion take root – in ourselves, in life, in everyone and everything.

We uncover our true selves, our innate goodness, beneath all the stories we’ve been telling ourselves. We learn to trust the mysterious unfolding of life beyond the thinking mind, beyond the material world. We remember we are all souls in human bodies, here for a short time. We are inseparable from one another. We are one small part of a bigger whole.

Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash

For days, the funk lingered.

There were many moments when I wanted to give up, reach for quick fixes, and find temporary relief. But I chose to stay with it. Keep noticing. Keep releasing the urge to change it. Breath by breath. Thought by thought. Step by step.

I did only what I could manage – basic hygiene, basic housework, gentle exercises, and attending online classes. No reading. No research. No business building.

What I didn’t expect was the stream of old memories – families, friends, colleagues – playing on repeat in my head during walks, over meals, even in dreams. It felt as if the funk was asking me to see my stories and beliefs anew, through the lens of who I am now.

Until one night I wrote in my journal: “I’m tired of doing the same old dance with shadows and ghosts from the past. I’m releasing patterns of perfectionism and victimhood. I’m setting this wounded version of myself free. I’m stepping into my highest potential with clear intentions. I’m not here to be a master of life but a humble participant bringing beauty to the world. I commit to living a healthy, honest life of service, and I hold deep gratitude for my past, present and future.”

The next morning, I woke to find the funk gone – quietly, without a trace. Like winter mist dissolving in the morning sun.

Only then did I remember what Virgo season asks of us: to come home to ourselves, to release what no longer serves us, to root life in devotion, humility, and simplicity.

Then I realised this was the gift of the funk all along – to strip away the noise, bring me home to the sacred ordinariness of the breath, and remind me that I am part of something bigger, always changing, always evolving.

And all I need to do is keep noticing.

“Trust is not passive. It is a kind of active listening — to what moves inside, to what calls from outside, to the quiet signs stitched between. When we follow the unlikely guide, when we surrender the need to plan every step, the path unfolds in ways no map could chart.” ~ Megan Youngmee