I dreamt of Prince again. We were in his home, somewhere in the heart of a city. Inside, it was a haven: spacious, luminous, alive with beauty and possibility. Then we stepped outside, and the energy of the street hit me all at once - crowds, noise, too many bodies, too much everything. As I scanned the scene, bars began to emerge around me. When I looked closer, I saw they had been decorated with flowers, ribbons, and colour everywhere. And then the padlocks appeared. Dozens of them, and then hundreds.

When I woke, I sat with the imagery for a long time. What it showed me lives in my own life, and I suspect it lives in yours too.

As a highly sensitive person, I feel the pull to stay inside the sanctuary I’ve built for myself. I’ve shaped it with care, and it holds so much of what I love: my creative work, my offerings, my home. And I know this too - when new ideas, new conversations and new encounters stop flowing in, the sanctuary turns into a gilded cage. Beautiful, and still a ca...