I encourage my clients to embrace honesty—not as an excuse for oversharing or bluntness, but as a commitment to clarity in relationships and with themselves. Honesty, when paired with an awareness of context and disclosure, can transform how we communicate and conserve energy. It’s about sealing the “windows” in our lives, stopping the inefficiencies that come from half-truths or internal conflicts. This principle extends inward, too, aligning with the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model, which reveals how our different “selves” often clash, wasting energy. I’ve experienced this firsthand—letting one part of me lead to decisions that another resented. Art, for me, has been a shortcut to resolving these inner conflicts, externalising the dialogue between parts, and accelerating growth. Ultimately, honesty is about creating unity—both within and without—so we can live and create with focus and purpose.

"True creativity isn't about invention, but about reimagining timeless ideas. As artists, we borrow, transform, and express what flows through us. This poem reflects the peace of sitting around the fire, nurturing connection, and finding inspiration in the simple act of being together."

Facing Fear
Fear has been the central theme of my journey—from helping anxious dental patients to guiding creatives toward their biggest breakthroughs. Fear can paralyze, but it can also point the way forward. As a creative coach, I help clients confront their fears, whether it’s of failure or success, and use that energy to unlock their true potential. Together, we turn fear into a compass, and the results are nothing short of transformative.

Today, I’m reflecting on the transformative power of sleep—a universal need that bridges the gap between wellness’s structured “nuts and bolts” and the mysterious depths of the human experience. Sleep is not just restorative; it’s essential, especially for creatives. It consolidates ideas, recalibrates our emotional selves, and fosters a deeper connection to who we are. In a world that often glorifies sleepless productivity, learning to rest—not just sleep—is an underappreciated skill that can profoundly impact our creativity and well-being. Sleep is a gift, and its sweet sister, rest, may just be the quiet ally we’ve been neglecting.

Creation often feels like a battle against an ancient, almost primordial resistance. It’s not just about the blank page or the empty canvas—it’s a deeper struggle tied to a scarcity mindset, passed down through generations, that whispers, “There’s only so much to go around.” As a psychotherapist, I’ve seen how this unspoken belief stifles creativity, even in people with plenty of resources. It’s not about wealth; it’s about the invisible rules we inherit that tell us creation must be earned through struggle. Breaking free from that mindset can transform not just our art, but our lives. You have to jump our of your wee boat.

Poo Poo and Wee Wee

Today, I set a timer for ten minutes to write a poem from scratch. No plan, no edits, just whatever came to mind.

Parenting is messy. It’s potty jokes, dried cereal, and chaos you’ll miss one day. Life is just as ridiculous—messy, imperfect, fleeting.

Laugh at it. Say "I love you." Let the absurdity wash over you like warm water.

Some days, I have no energy—none at all. Today is one of those days. A one-week-old and a four-year-old have left me utterly spent, yet I’ve realised these are the days I need to make art the most. Sharing my early efforts has been humbling but clarifying. I worried it might highlight how much of a beginner I am, but it’s deepened my connection to the creative process. Through doubt, accountability, and showing up, I’ve learned that creativity isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence. Every flawed attempt adds up.

I’m a big believer in just starting—you figure it out as you go. The sky doesn’t actually fall.

This year, I’ve committed to releasing a piece of art into the public domain every day. It’s a beginner’s journey, and for now, I’m embracing that freedom. Yesterday’s plans to share a poem fell apart because I left my notebook at the office. So today, I’m writing about something that keeps me grounded in both life and therapy: craic.

Craic isn’t just fun; it’s a deeply human connection that mixes joy, authenticity, and the sacred. In therapy, it’s not about following rigid frameworks or over-optimizing life. It’s about being human together, laughing through the pain, and finding lightness within depth.

Therapy isn’t about “doing the work”—it’s about making the play. Because your inner artist, your inner child, isn’t broken; it’s out there laughing, waiting for you to join.

Today’s art isn’t a poem. It’s a reminder: You weren’t born to be sad. You were born to laugh along with the rest of us.

The Royal
While painting my garage, I felt a pang of homesickness for Northern Ireland. A podcast with Jamie Dornan brought me back to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast—a place where I trained, where my son was born during lockdown, and where life’s sharp edges meet quiet resilience.

That moment sparked a poem about love, strength, and the heroism of everyday people. It’s not perfect—I’m still learning—but it reminded me that the fear of imperfection shouldn’t silence us.

This is for the Royal, for my wife, and for my son, Leo. Happy fourth birthday.

The blinking cursor. the blank page. the blank canvas.

They all ask you the same thing.

Who are you? What are you here to do? What do you want?

I now know the answer to these questions.

I am an artist. I am here to make art. I want the freedom to do that.