Dan Pallotta's extradinary TED talk is bold in the extreme; standing up there amongst peers and people bearing his soul whilst encouraging us to step into the same space is inspirational. Some of his words are too powerful not to share here:

"...I'm talking about dreaming as boldly in the dimension of our being as we do about industry and technology. I'm talking about an audacious authenticity that allows us to cry with one another, a heroic humility that allows us to remove our masks and be real. It is our inability to be with one another, our fear of crying with one another, that gives rise to so many of the problems we are frantically trying to solve in the first place, from Congressional gridlock to economic inhumanity.

Now, we're all here to dream, but maybe if we're honest about it, each of us chasing our own dream. You know, looking at the name tags to see who can help me with my dream, sometimes looking right through one another's humanity. I can't be bothered with you right now. I have an idea for saving the world. Right?

Imagine living in a world where we simply recognize that deep, existential fear in one another and love one another boldly because we know that to be human is to live with that fear. It's time for us to dream in multiple dimensions simultaneously, and somewhere that transcends all of the wondrous things we can and will and must do lies the domain of all the unbelievable things we could be..."

Watch his full talk, it is time well spent.

You died.

It’s taken me four months to say those words and even now it’s just breathtaking to admit it.

I walked to your stable before you left, left to be made better, I saw you in your agony, sweat and tears, your head hanging into your knees begging us to make it better. So we did, or so we thought.

Into the box you staggered all believing, loving and hoping that you’d be back in no time, as always, into your bravado and home. But it wasn’t to be and the box came home empty.

It’s months later; your ashes are planted and life grows around you but every day, EVERY day Huffy, I walk up to the stables and I see your face, hear your voice and see your face. It seems impossible that moments are just that, moments.

In retrospect you told me days before this - my camera tells me so - every day you reminded me to see you, be with you, love you. As if we could ever do anything other than love you. Thank you for making me aware.

I don’t understand life and I surely don’t understand why we fought so hard to meet you only to have you taken away so soon but I do know this, you will remain perfect (well done you) and immortalised in memories far beyond your imagination.

I don’t know what I gave you to, if anything, but what you did was awake my soul and you, my brightest boy, will live forever in it.

Our hearts kept it simple.

I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. I don’t really know when it exactly happened, but somewhere in between our intense eye contact and wiping my tears away as my walls came down that I spent years crafting, I crashed into you fully and never looked back.

My heart was unguarded, and I gave you all of me. We didn’t just hang out. We played. Our souls were alive – we were like two little kids again seeing the world for the first time – being with you multiplied all the good in life and changed me forever.

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.” - Roald Dahl -

When I look back on 2015, the more I read, listen, learn, watch and experience, the more I’m immeasurably grateful for the trip and fall that I took this year, the fall down, the staying down, that made me take stock. Take stock of me - who I’d created - and who I really was. As Brene Brown says in Daring Greatly ‘What we know matters but who we are matters more. Being rather than knowing requires showing up and letting ourselves be seen’. In the absence of any other coping skills I started to allow myself to be seen, mostly by myself.