Nicole McCutcheon

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still

“The intensity of our compulsive thinking is in direct proportion to our unwillingness to feel what’s inside out body.”

-Tara Brach

“And it’s not just the warnings of the dead you should heed; it’s also the warnings of the unborn. Genetically, there are far more people that could’ve been born instead of you than there are atoms in the universe. And yet, you are one of the mere 8 billion of us that are here now. To be alive is to possess an unfathomably rare gift; treat your

“On the Sydney train, I sometimes like to play a quiet game with myself, where I imagine each commuter through the eyes of someone who adores them. The oil-stained man becomes a gentle, loving father. The teenage girl biting her sleeve becomes someone’s irreplaceable best friend. The elderly woman with the fierce stare becomes a widow whose late

“Ultimately, the most challenging intimacy is the one we cultivate with ourselves. To sit alone and meet our own eyes without flinching. To know our hunger, our contradictions, our unbearable tenderness, and respond with compassion rather than contempt. Self-intimacy is not navel-gazing; it’s the soil from which all other closenessgrows. Without

“And yes, intimacy is also political. In a culture addicted to surveillance and curation, to be genuinely close with someone – offline, unmonetised, unmarketed – is nothing short of radical. To whisper something sacred and never post about it. To exist in a moment that will not be archived. In an age of algorithmic voyeurism, to protect intimacy is