Recently, I wrote about receiving a sign, and about yielding. You can catch up on that post here.


What I’ve realised since then is that though I may be willing to acknowledge the sign in the sky, and though I feel broadly clued in to what the sign points to, I am well and truly stuck as far as my desire to do the work of yielding to it. 

There are boulders in the way, I rolled some of them there. I’m good at that. It’s a protection mechanism. A lifelong habit. 

Yielding is hard work. 

Hard. Hard. Hard. Yukky, uncomfortable, revealing, vulnerability making work. Ugh. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE in the opposite direction kind of work! 

Too big, and too hard for me right now. 

The way I’m wired is deliciously contradictory, because I find myself wanting to simultaneously gather myself up in a protective embrace, and whisper words of encouragement to my heart (gentle voice #1), as well as wanting to viciously berate myself, shame myself, and ridicule my inability to just yield and get the fuck on with things (harsh voice #2). 

So I search for balance, and it is deeply uncomfortable at times. I know that I *could* be doing more to get myself unstuck, but I also know that if I push myself because of voice #2, the harsh taskmaster that still occasionally pipes up and causes me grief, the whole damn house of cards (not really, but it’s a great metaphor) will come tumbling down.

So, I yield, for now, to being unyielding.

I breathe.

I strain my being to listen to voice #1 as she offers me compassion and patience.

And in that way, I yield more deeply, ever so incrementally. I yield to compassion towards myself. Again.

In this place, where the movement towards choosing to yield is imperceptibly slow, and sometimes just a dream, I must find my light. I must stand resolutely in it. I must, must, must continue to look up. I must resist voice #2, actively. 


I may never stop learning this primal lesson, these first tiny steps, the initial dance of, I see you sign, and I read you, but I will go NO further… knowing that eventually I will most likely yield a little more, allow a little more of the light I stand in to permeate my inner world, because I want to live purposefully. I want to know myself more deeply. I want to be increasingly free. I do. 

I just wanted to tell someone that. 


I am unyielding, but I am not dead yet. 

I am unfinished, and though I may not have the courage to do the work today, or tomorrow, I can celebrate all that’s behind me, all the lessons, all the victories, and I know how very far I’ve come. 

Here I am. 


Chin up. Head tilted back. Standing in my light.  


Are you standing in yours? 




Annette x 




Reading The Signs

Hey, Hi, Hello! 

Have you ever felt like your love of Instagram sent you a sign? 

I think my obsession with the sky and clouds and sharing photos I can tag #lookup sent me a sign a few days ago. 

I was leaving a big, busy shopping centre on Saturday afternoon, and it was a relief to get out of the stuffy, squishy, zombie shopper crush and into the fresh air. 

As I walked to my car, I enjoyed the feeling of the sun on my face, and the sky was all flirty and hey look at me, not that it needs to be, I’m always looking! 

Don’t be insecure sky, I see you.  

I snapped a few shots, without paying much attention, and when I looked at them later on, here’s what I saw. 

A sign in the sky. Literally. Quite nicely composed too. 

I’ve decided to pay attention to this sign. 

To give way, to yield. 

I’m not sure exactly what the sign means, but I feel like it’s good life advice, even in a non-specific way. 

Give way. 


Pause. Look around. 

Be open. 

When you come to a give way sign, you might turn right, or left, or go straight ahead, but you need to yield first. 

Look around. 

Pay attention. 

Okay, I can do that. 


It’s hard sometimes to acknowledge things that are going on internally. I’ve had to make lots of changes to my life this year, and some of that has triggered a few subterranean tremors. I feel some shifting, a few issues perhaps wanting to come up for air, to be recognised, and perhaps reconciled. That’s not a comfortable place to find myself. 

So, in that spirit, I see you sign. I hear you. I welcome you. 

Giving way. 


I’ll try. 


How do you tune in when your camera, your kids, a snippet of conversation, or even a book recommendation, feels like a sign? 

I’d love to hear your tune-in tips. 


I’m yielding, and I plan on enjoying the view while I do. 

Look up, friends, look up; you never know what you might see. 


Don’t forget to hit me up with your tune-in tips please.


Annette x