This week I’ve been noticing something about myself that I can’t really unsee.
I say I want to be known as The Connected Islander. But when I really sit with what that means, it’s not about running circles or doing sound or teaching yoga. Those are just the tools. What I actually mean is that I want to be known for connection. Real connection. The kind where women come back to themselves, where something shifts, where they reconnect with who they are and from that place, connect more deeply with others. Community, culture, belonging. That’s the work.
If I’m being truthful, it frustrates me that people still see me at that surface level. The “sound woman”. The one who runs circles. But when I look at it more closely, the truth is I’m still playing a part in that. I’m still not fully owning that this is the space I move in. That I can lead in that space. That I can hold that level of connection.
Instead, I soften it. I make it more palatable. I stay in the ‘relatable’ lane, wanting to be liked and accepted. Which sounds nice, but it’s also a way of not fully being seen. I can see that same pattern showing up in other areas of my life.
We had fitness testing at the gym recently, and I noticed how much energy I was putting into worrying about it beforehand. No one else even knew my previous time. But in my head, it meant something. If I didn’t beat it, then what did that say about me? That I wasn’t as fit as I thought? That I wasn’t improving? That I’d somehow be found out?
When I did it, I actually beat my time by three minutes. I felt good for a moment, but actually, it was more relief than anything else. Relief that I hadn’t failed. Relief that I’d proven something to myself. And that was the moment that made me stop and really look at it. Look at how much energy I just gave away to something that no one else even knew about.
The same thing shows up at work. It’s not even the work itself, it’s the dynamics. The people, the stories, the way I can so easily get pulled into being needed, being relied on, being the one people come to. There’s a part of me that likes that, it feeds something. But the flip side is that I overextend. I say yes when I shouldn’t. I don’t always communicate clearly. I take on things I didn’t sign up for. I don’t always back myself. And then I feel it in my energy.
So I’ve been having to consciously come back to myself. To accept the environment for what it is without carrying it. To do my job well without letting it define me. To not take it home, not wake up thinking about it, not check emails on my days off. To remind myself that this is part of the journey, not the whole thing.
And when I zoom out and look at all of it together, the pattern is pretty obvious. I’m giving my power away. To what I think people expect of me. To how I think I’ll be perceived. To this idea of getting it right.
Whether that’s stepping into being The Connected Islander, doing a fitness test, or navigating work, it’s the same pattern playing out in different ways.
I recorded the first draft of my book back in October last year. The whole thing is there. The story, the message, the depth of what I want to say. And I haven’t touched it since. Not because I don’t have time, that’s the easy excuse. The truth is I haven’t created the space for it. I’ve filled my time with everything else. Work, commitments, showing up in ways that feel productive but don’t actually move the needle on the thing I say matters most.
Because finishing it means being seen differently. It means stepping fully into The Connected Islander, not just talking about it or circling it, but actually owning it. It means I don’t get to stay in the version of me that people already understand. And there’s a part of me that’s more comfortable there than I like to admit. So instead, I hover. I stay busy. I do enough to feel like I’m moving, but not enough to actually change anything.
And that’s on me.
I turned 44 this week. On the 27th. I pulled some cards that morning, just asking what this year was about, and had to laugh straight away when I saw the numbers in the spread… 7, 2 and 27. You can’t make that up.
But when I actually sat with the cards, the message was pretty clear. Butterflies, wings, blues and purples, this feeling of expansion and opening up. And then the words that came through felt almost too simple.
Speak. Ground. Trust.
Simple. Not easy.
Because I can see exactly where I still hold back. Where I soften things so they land better. Where I wait until I’ve got it all worked out before I say anything at all. And I’m over that.
This year doesn’t feel like it’s about becoming someone new. It feels like it’s about stopping the edits on who I already am. Actually embodying The Connected Islander, not just talking about it when it feels comfortable, but living it in the moments that matter.
Flow is still my word for the year, but not the kind where I sit back and hope it all works out. The kind where I move when I feel it. Say the thing when it’s there. Back myself without needing it to be perfect first.
And I think that’s the shift for me. Not pretending I’ve got it all sorted, but actually deciding I’m done outsourcing my power in the ways I can see so clearly now. Not perfectly, not overnight, but consciously. Because once you see it, you can’t really keep doing the same thing and expect it to feel okay.
We’re in Taurus season, and if I strip all the language back, it really comes down to this… can you stay with yourself? Not when it’s easy or when everything feels aligned, but in the moments where you want to rush, react, prove something, or shrink back.
Because that’s where I can see it most clearly for myself. The moments I leave my body, move too quickly, or look outside of myself for validation are the same moments I disconnect from that sense of home. And that’s the work I’m actually in right now. Not creating a perfect version of it or packaging it up neatly, but noticing where I’m not backed by myself and making a different choice next time.
That’s what The Connected Islander means to me. It’s not a concept. It’s whether I’m willing to stand in that identity when it feels uncomfortable, when it asks more of me, when it requires me to stop waiting and actually follow through.
I’m co-creating a workshop in June called The Heart is the Home, and the more I sit with it, the more I can see that this is the exact work underneath it. Not something separate, but something I’m living in real time.
The same applies to you. Where are you saying something matters, but your actions don’t match it? Where are you staying in the version of yourself that feels safe, even though you know there’s something more?
That gap doesn’t close on its own. You close it.
Live, Love & Laugh
Tash x
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