The 1st of January is when we’re told that we need to make promises to ourselves that we know we’ll likely break by the time February comes around. The cultural pressure to commit to the ‘New Year, New You’ trope leads us into fad diets, gym subscriptions and an expectation that we should be at peak performance.

In the age of social media and AI, we are all being pushed towards the middle ground. The ‘algorithm’ decides what we see, value, and aspire to. It creates a singular, curated ideal of success, beauty, and happiness. Diverse cultures and unique personal experiences become a homogenous gloop. This strive for uniformity has brought the mullet back, for god’s sake.

Sometimes we all drift, like rudderless ships lost at sea. Tossed about by winds and currents that lead us in directions we didn’t choose. We react to the waves of obligation and external validation, hoping to stumble upon an island of fulfilment. Yet there is a lighthouse in the distance. This lighthouse is an unwavering presence. It gives us a direction of travel through the stormy waters.

The winter struggle is real. The familiar feeling of sluggishness this time of year can feel unavoidable. Vegetating on the sofa and watching another crime doc on Netflix can seem much more appealing than getting out of the door. There is a natural pull towards hibernation when the landscape is bleak and the air is cold and damp.

Do you ever feel that your worth is conditional? Like you’re only “good enough” if you’re productive, you succeed, or you please others? Many people suffering from low self-esteem operate under the belief that their sense of worth is something they must constantly earn. This can be an exhausting and self-defeating cycle.

Every morning there is a familiar ritual in our household. Waking to wet-nose nudges, excitable licks and the wagging tails of our two dogs. After coffee (of course), they know what’s coming next and there is no arguing. They need their walk.

As we reach mid-October I still find myself mourning the loss of the summer. This autumn has begun in a surprisingly dry and occasionally warm manner. That said, each morning and evening I notice that I’m walking my dogs in ever diminishing light. There is a certain melancholy that I associate with the receding of the sun.

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” - Viktor Frankl

Let’s be honest—we all intuitively know that we feel better after some time outside. But these days, it’s hard to escape the constant buzz of notifications, emails, screens, and all the other noise in the modern world.

My name is Russell Lee-Atkinson and I’m excited to finally introduce you to my new venture. It’s been a long time in the making. People that know me will have heard me talk about my ideas for some time now, and now rather than thinking, I’m doing.