Acrylic - 80cm x 80cm
It Takes Time
Some say the brumbies teach us more than we could ever teach them.
Not because they are wild…
But because they never forget who they are.
No matter how many storms they weather.
No matter how many times they’re chased.
No matter how much the world tries to change them.
Their spirit always calls them home.
Perhaps we are not so different.
Life has a way of pulling us away from ourselves.
We become who others expect us to be.
We carry burdens that were never ours.
We silence our hearts to make room for the noise of the world.
Until one day…
We hear a whisper.
A whisper as old as the mountains.
“Come home.”
Returning to yourself isn’t loud.
It isn’t a single breakthrough.
It’s found in quiet mornings.
In deep breaths.
In creating.
In forgiving.
In choosing love when fear feels easier.
Like a wounded brumby learning to trust again…
We don’t heal overnight.
Trust returns one gentle step at a time.
Hope returns one sunrise at a time.
And so do we.
The mountains are never in a hurry.
The rivers never rush to meet the sea.
The flowers bloom exactly when they’re ready.
Nature reminds us that everything unfolds in its own perfect season.
So if your heart feels tired…
Be gentle with yourself.
There is no race.
No finish line.
Only the quiet journey back to the person you were always meant to be.
Because returning to yourself… Like earning the trust of a wild brumby…
Takes time.
🤍
Acrylic - 80cm x 80cm
It Takes Time
Some say the brumbies teach us more than we could ever teach them.
Not because they are wild…
But because they never forget who they are.
No matter how many storms they weather.
No matter how many times they’re chased.
No matter how much the world tries to change them.
Their spirit always calls them home.
Perhaps we are not so different.
Life has a way of pulling us away from ourselves.
We become who others expect us to be.
We carry burdens that were never ours.
We silence our hearts to make room for the noise of the world.
Until one day…
We hear a whisper.
A whisper as old as the mountains.
“Come home.”
Returning to yourself isn’t loud.
It isn’t a single breakthrough.
It’s found in quiet mornings.
In deep breaths.
In creating.
In forgiving.
In choosing love when fear feels easier.
Like a wounded brumby learning to trust again…
We don’t heal overnight.
Trust returns one gentle step at a time.
Hope returns one sunrise at a time.
And so do we.
The mountains are never in a hurry.
The rivers never rush to meet the sea.
The flowers bloom exactly when they’re ready.
Nature reminds us that everything unfolds in its own perfect season.
So if your heart feels tired…
Be gentle with yourself.
There is no race.
No finish line.
Only the quiet journey back to the person you were always meant to be.
Because returning to yourself… Like earning the trust of a wild brumby…
Takes time.
🤍
