There’s something happening. Not loud. Not flashy. Not the kind of shift you can point to on a calendar and say, “There. That’s when it changed.”It feels more like a shedding. Like layers quietly loosening and falling away.
Last year was hard. Not in a dramatic, headline-grabbing way. Just in the steady, grown-up way that asks more of you than you sometimes feel prepared to give.
It was a year of facing things as they are, not as I hoped they might be. Of choosing truth over romance. Of sitting at tables, literal and metaphorical, and admitting we were no longer as nimble as we used to be. That our cost base had crept higher than it should have. That growth as a vanity metric isn’t strength. That trying to do everything can sometimes mean doing nothing particularly well. It was a year of simplifying. Of tightening. Of letting go of certain ways of operating. Of certain ideas. And yes, of certain people.
There is nothing glamorous about those decisions. There’s no Pinterest board for them. Just long conversations. Quiet car rides home. The weight of responsibility sitting squarely on your shoulders.
And it can take its toll. Not always in the ways people expect. I’m not much of a crier. I don’t tend to ‘look’ stressed. I don’t crack easily. But in the private moments, the ones only I can ever really know, its the perpetual clenching of my jaw, the numbness driven by emotional fatigue and the unrelenting craving of solitude.
But, in those moments, I’ve come to realise that clarity is its own kind of mercy, even when it stings. You can’t build something enduring on a romantic version of reality. And somewhere in the midst of all that tightening and truth-telling, something else was forming, though I couldn’t quite see it yet.
Then came a trip with family to Africa over the break. Two years in the making, a month of dust and sky and space. Mornings that began before the sun, wrapped in blankets in an open safari jeep, the air crisp and carrying that unmistakable scent of dry earth and grass. The low hum of the engine as we scanned the horizon. The quiet thrill of spotting movement in the distance.
Watching elephants move across the plains, enormous and gentle all at once. Seeing a lioness stretched lazily beneath an acacia tree, completely uninterested in our timelines or to-do lists. Giraffes crossing the road with slow, deliberate elegance. Herds of zebra kicking up dust in golden afternoon light.
There’s something about being that small in a landscape that vast. There’s a rhythm to it and a wisdom that is bigger than we are. Nothing rushes. Nothing performs. Nothing tries to be more than it is. Everything is intentional.
Somewhere between the safari drives and the ocean swims, I felt my mind gradually soften. Not in a dramatic epiphany kind of way but just a steady unwinding. I realised as the weeks unfurled, how tightly I’d been holding everything. The business. The expectations. The responsibility. The pressure to keep pushing, proving, showing up. And in that vastness, something shifted.
This year is the Year of the Horse. I’m no expert in zodiac lore but I know enough to understand it represents strength, momentum, and forward movement. But horses don’t sprint endlessly. They move with purpose, with power and with direction. And for the first time in a while, I feel ready to run. But this time, there’s an important distinction - I’m running towards something, not from something.
The hard year of 2025 stripped things back. Whether I wanted it to or not, it forced sharper thinking, better boundaries, and a willingness to admit what wasn’t working and to change it.
I’m perhaps less romantic now, in the way that young heartbreak leaves a thin layer of scar tissue - not to harden you, but to remind you what hurt. There’s space where noise used to be. Space for vision again. Space for intention. Space for the kind of creativity that isn’t frantic or scattered, but deliberate and deeply considered.
And with that, I’m spending time thinking about what the Sage x Clare of the future looks like and being really deliberate in the decisions we’re making today and how they’ll impact the vision for tomorrow. This looks like backing fewer things, better. Of trusting instinct, yes, but pairing it with an eyes-wide-open viewpoint. Of remembering that longevity is often built in the quiet, disciplined seasons, not just the shiny ones.
Africa reminded me how small we are. And strangely, the vastness of it made everything feel possible again.
So here’s to a 2026 of strong foundations, movement with meaning, and to the run - not from pressure, but toward purpose.
My Africa Favourites: Where I Stayed, What I Loved, What I’ll Never Forget
-Kruger Gate Hotel in Kruger - great family option, loved our stay here and more affordable than the private game reserve options out there.
-Blackheath Lodge in Cape Town - boutique hotel with spacious rooms and great vibe. We stayed in a 2 bedroom apartment style room
-The Palace in Sun City - an outlandish, Disney-esque experience that the kids LOVED
-Babylonstoren - day trip from Cape Town. This was a front runner in the highlights stakes!! I could not have loved this place more
- La Pirogue in Mauritius - an institution in Mauritius, being one of the first resorts built there. Loved the low-rise thatched bungalows, food top notch and plenty for the kids to do
A Peek Inside My Camera Roll
With a whole lotta love,
P x