And more questions

Lately, I found myself lost in the forest. I stopped, looked around. Nothing looked familiar. So I kept following the little trail. Then I stopped again, turned around, and still couldn’t recognise anything.
Where am I?
That feeling of not knowing where I am — where north or south might be, whether to go this way or that — was strangely unsettling. It was cloudy; no sun could guide me. Confusing, even a little frightening.
I must admit, I’d been distracted when I took that left turn — partly by my dog, but mostly by my own thoughts. I was in my head, not in the forest.
Eventually, I went back to the last junction and tried the other path until I reached a place that finally felt known. And yet, even now, I’m still puzzled. It’s odd — I’m a visual person. I know this forest by heart. Or I thought I did. Even in places I know by heart, a small shift in direction can make everything look unfamiliar.
This moment of disorientation stayed with me. It made me wonder: What helps when we lose ourselves? Sometimes we need to pause — to stand still, to notice, to reorient. Sometimes wandering helps — a few steps back, a turn in another direction, a new perspective to find a fresh way forward. And sometimes we need to wonder: How did I get here? What does this mean? Where do I want to go next?
Where am I?
It’s a wonderful question to carry into a new year — not just geographically, but in all the ways we might ask it. Where am I in my work? In my creative explorations? In my becoming? In belonging?
Like opening a good bottle of wine, a question invites us to taste slowly, with all our senses. A question with body. Uncovering layers.
“I look for the questions, but truth is, they look for me, little birds that show up on the window sill.” – Tenneson Woolf
I’m a lover of questions. I even collect them. I’m inspired by the kind that tap into possibility and wonder — questions like ‘What if…‘ or ‘How might we…’ that become our imaginative companions, helping us to see differently. As Shai Tubali suggests, questions serve as “a way of opening the mind, not just filling it.“
“Creativity lives in the in-between,” writes Dave Gray. “When you allow your questions to multiply, you enter a world of exploration and possibility.”
Here’s my invitation:
What question would you like to carry into this new year?
Not to answer immediately, but to hold — like a pebble you pick up now and then, turning it in the light, noticing what it reveals.
For inspiration, explore the Slow Questions collection — a curated list of questions designed for reflection rather than rushing.

What if the most rebellious thing you could do right now is… nothing at all?
We invite you to pause. How does that sound? Like something you need?
In January, we’ll be back with 30-minute pause sessions—gentle explorations into stillness. Everyone is welcome. These aren’t about ‘doing it right’—they’re about discovering what happens when we permit ourselves to breathe, to rest, just to be.
These sessions are part of Rebel with a Pause, a new project Ewen Le Borgne and I are quietly nurturing—an invitation to explore how moments of stillness can heal work culture and open space for what wants to emerge.
If this whispers to you, we’d love to connect.
The bit at the end
Exciting events on the horizon to support your exploration:
- This winter, join Street Wisdom in Alkmaar — cosy, inspiring, and full of surprises. Come rain, sun, or storm, we’ll explore the streets or find inspiration inside with a warm cup of tea. Find the dates and sign up here.
- Join the next Unhurried Conversation—a space to slow down, listen, and connect. We meet every 2nd Monday of the month. It’s free, and you’re warmly welcome. Sign up here.
- For more Learning Moments, subscribe to my newsletter and get timely updates straight to your inbox.
Reach out, I’m always open for a chat.
Creatively,
Nadia
P.S.The paintings featured on the blog are my own.
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