There are people in our lives who remind us to play; the ones who make you want to cartwheel on the beach, run along the sand, or balance, laughing, in a rock pool in warrior three. On my Koh Samui retreat, there was one such person: Bronte. We had met a year earlier and shared many a heart-opening moment in meditation, but then life kept us both in fragments, and neither of us was available for the friendship we might have needed. When she told me that, I loved her honesty and realised that it had been true for me too. My husband loved her too. Within hours, they were thicker than thieves, banter and laughter and a light in him I hadn’t seen him show for years beyond our little cocoon. Our little foursome became a treasured space I will never forget. (To read more about the forth - see The Light We See in Others: A Story of Gratitude and Human Connection)
Chance meetings hours from home, on a plane or in a shala, always make me ask: why them, why then? Over the years, I’ve met many extraordinary people (and don’t worry — I won’t write about you all), and a pattern has emerged. I’m new to thinking in terms of energy, genuinely new, but what links these meetings is curiosity, open-mindedness and travel. A meditation teacher from India in Cambodia. An energy healer in Thailand. A business coach from Italy. Each person arrived when I needed to hear their story, their why, and each story reshaped my journey from a sequence of countries into a deep dive into myself.
People matter. The sum of who you surround yourself with shapes what lights you up. It might be a ten-day retreat, a two-day coincidence in a café, or a meeting on the stairs after yoga that turns into one of the sweetest meet-cutes of my seven-month adventure so far. Some of those people I have hardly spoken to, yet their presence has altered everything: yoga teachers, space-holders, musicians, meditators, hosts, and hotel teams, as well as gym companions. What if we believed that each encounter was placed in our path for a reason, to teach us something about the world, or about ourselves?
Consider the little, unmistakable ways people show up for us:
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A meditation teacher urging a trip to India.
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Bronte reminding me of play and mischief.
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Teagan reminding me of love, openness and listening to vulnerability.
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Valeria showing that you can use old networks to build a new life.
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Marc redefining what is possible with unconditional trust.
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Krista showing her uniqueness as a gift to explore the world fearlessly.
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Jennifer promising that sometimes saying yes is how it begins.
Sometimes these meetings are tender lessons; sometimes they are the sharp, uncomfortable ones. If you look closely, you’ll find that the people who hurt you may have pushed you into the work of remembering. They forced a crack in the shell and, however bitter at the time, helped you begin a deeper, truer search. I won’t always feel gratitude for the pain, but I can recognise its role. Without some of those hard edges, I might not have found this path at all.
So this is my thank-you to the ones who have held me, and to those who inadvertently pushed me to break. Thank you for steering me into this journey of discovery. Thank you for the banter, the late-night conversations, the awkward silences that unfolded into belonging. Thank you for reminding me that curiosity and courage create the most beautiful company.
Who in your life showed up at the right time? What did they arrive to show you, about your choices, your courage, or the way you love? Hold them gently. Remember the lessons. And if you can, thank the ones who hurt you too; sometimes their lessons are the ones that open the door to real remembering, no matter how painful, there will be a lesson within the hurt.
