Month: Sep 2025

  • Bella and the psychic fayre

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    Mission Mystic: Operation Crystal Bone.

    Just because Claire believes doesn’t mean Bella does.

    When my human, Claire, announced we were going to a “psychic fayre,” my ears shot up. Fayre sounds suspiciously like fair, and fairs mean one thing: food. The glorious scent of burgers, the whispered promise of a dropped hotdog… this was going to be the best day ever.

    I was mistaken.

    This “fayre” was a hushed room full of humans sitting at small tables, clutching crystals , and speaking in solemn whispers about “energy.” Claire was enthralled. I was appalled.

    Our first stop was a sign promising “Pet Psychic Readings.” Claire, beaming, nudged me forward. The woman peered into my soul.

    “She has been a wolf in a past life,” she intoned.

    A wolf? Please. Last Tuesday, I needed a running start to get on the sofa. My spirit animal is less lone wolf, more opportunistic napper.

    “She carries ancient wisdom,” the psychic continued.

    If by “ancient wisdom” you mean the deeply held belief that the vacuum cleaner is a demon from the underworld, then sure. Otherwise, the only thing I’m carrying is the memory of that sock I ate and regretfully returned to the hallway. That’s not wisdom; it’s evidence.

    Claire, of course, was hanging on every word. “What does her future hold?”

    The psychic closed her eyes. “I see a long path… companionship… a great feast awaits her.”

    My tail thumped. Finally! We were getting somewhere!

    “…in the afterlife,” she finished.

    The afterlife? I’d prefer the feast in this life. Preferably within the next five minutes.

    At another table, a woman laid out cards like she was dealing a very serious game of poker. “The cards say she feels misunderstood,” she told Claire.

    Misunderstood? I bark at the mail slot because it dares to exist. That’s not a cry for help; it’s a statement of purpose.

    By the end, Claire was radiant, clutching a crystal the size of a chew toy. “See, Bella?” she whispered. “The universe has so much to tell us.”

    I sighed a dog sigh, the kind that holds the weight of a thousand uneaten sandwiches. Humans spend their lives searching for hidden truths and cosmic signs. They complicate the uncomplicated.

    I already know the great mysteries of the universe: nap when you can, wag without reservation, love your human, and never, ever trust the Hoover.

    And if the cosmos truly wants to get my attention, it knows my frequency. It’s called bacon.

    Mission Mystic: concluded. Claire found enlightenment.

    I’m still waiting for my feast.

    https://amzn.eu/d/013eG4m

    #TheBellaUniverse

  • The Hidden Architecture of a Single Act

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    Lives often pivot on moments too small to notice. A single act of true selflessness—not a transaction, but a genuine gift of yourself—can pull an invisible thread, altering a life’s course in ways you may never see.

    It isn’t about paid-for coffees or loose change. Real selflessness is a quieter, deeper currency: your time, your attention, your patience, your courage—offered with no expectation of return.

    It can look like this:

    A teacher listens instead of dismissing a struggling student. The message isn’t “excuse accepted” but “you are seen”—a foundation for resilience.

    A colleague stays late to help someone crack a problem. That quiet moment shatters a ceiling and sets a career in motion.

    A driver lets one more car merge. A fleeting pact of civility that prevents rage and affirms: you are not invisible.

    A neighbour checks on someone elderly after a storm. One question—“Are you okay?”—transforms isolation into belonging.

    A leader absorbs unfair blame. The loyalty earned strengthens every endeavour that follows.

    Online, it’s choosing to share your local café’s post instead of another influencer’s. That click might mean survival.

    The paradox? When you give freely, without expectation, the act itself rewards you. Integrity, peace, or the quiet discovery—years later—that your moment was the pivot in someone else’s story.

    Strengthen another’s thread, and you may find the very one that holds your own life together.

    Every act, every share, is a thread. #ShareBecauseYouCare

    P.S. At some point in your life, you are all of those people.

  • Your internal compass needs a direction

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    The Compass Within: And Why You Can’t Fake Your Own Journey

    You can’t continuously act in a way that contradicts your natural vision of yourself.

    Let that sink in.

    It’s more than a statement—it’s a law of human nature. You can sprint in the wrong direction for a while, fueled by willpower or pressure. You can wear a mask that doesn’t fit, play a role you didn’t write, and silence the quiet whisper of your soul.

    But not forever.

    Inside you is a compass—your “natural vision of yourself.” Your core identity, your values, your deepest sense of who you are and who you are meant to become. Every time you act against it, you send a tremor through your foundation.

    This is cognitive dissonance—the profound discomfort when your behaviour is at war with your beliefs. And the human psyche can’t sustain this war for long. One of three things will happen:

    1. The Vision Bends: You reshape your identity to match your actions. Standards slip. Stories change. Your compass breaks, and you get lost.

    2. The Behaviour Breaks: The feeling of being a fraud becomes too much. You quit the job, leave the relationship, and drop the act.

    3. You Break: Chronic stress, burnout, anxiety, or unnamed shame. Fighting your own design exhausts your spirit.

    This is not pop psychology. Aristotle called it virtue—living in alignment with your true nature. Carl Rogers called it self-consistency—a fundamental need of the human psyche.

    So, what’s the way out? The shift begins within.

    Create the vision inside of you first. Close your eyes. See the person you can be: courageous, kind, disciplined, free. Feel the integrity, the passion, the peace. Let this vision become your internal truth.

    Nurture it. Feed it. Write it down. Meditate on it. Make it so vivid that it can’t be ignored.

    Then your actions will follow. Naturally. Effortlessly. The people you attract, the opportunities you embrace, the life you live—it all begins to align.

    You’re not a blank slate. You are a seed, already containing the blueprint of the mighty tree you are destined to become.

    Stop fighting your design. Stop ignoring your compass.

    Your mission starts today:

    1. Get quiet. Listen to your whisper. What does your authentic self want?

    2. Define the vision. Who are you at your very best? Be specific.

    3. Act from that vision, not against it. Let your inner truth guide your choices.

    The world will try to tell you who to be. But your soul already knows. Trust it. Build it. And watch your outer world fall into alignment.

    Your destined self is waiting—just on the other side of your next courageous, authentic choice.

    Let’s go…………Or let go. It’s up to you.

    #AuthenticLiving #SelfConcept #PersonalGrowth #Motivation #CognitiveDissonance #LiveYourPurpose #TheCompassWithin

  • Do you know the real enemy?

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    The Enemy in the Room.

    It’s not your colleague, your friend, or a stranger’s glance. They’re all too busy living their own stories. The enemy is the voice in your head that whispers doubt and turns shadows into threats.
    Defeat that voice, and the world is already on your side.

    But the real truth goes deeper. The Enemy in the Room Is You.

    It’s a seductive lie: the belief that someone, somewhere, is plotting your failure. A colleague’s coldness must be a hidden grievance. A friend’s silence, a deliberate snub. A stranger’s glance, a judgment.

    But the truth is far more simple and far more liberating: you are not that important.

    Not in the way you fear. Most people are the protagonists of their own frantic stories, too consumed by their own deadlines, insecurities, and heartaches to even glance at your script. The slight you dissected for hours was a passing moment for them, forgotten in an instant. Your name is a fleeting thought in a storm of their own.

    So, if the world isn’t filled with villains, what is the source of this friction? The real opposition has been in the room all along. It’s the inner voice that narrates your doubts, the one that reframes coincidence as conspiracy and a setback as a verdict. That is the saboteur. That is the single vote for “no” when the rest of the universe has abstained.

    And here is the freedom in this realization: if the only person holding you back is the one you look at in the mirror, then the only person you need permission from is the one you see there, too.

    Stop searching for ghosts in the peripheral vision of your life. The path was never blocked by anyone else. Turn your energy inward. Silence the static. Build something.

    P.S. Sometimes, your imagination is your real enemy.
    Not the people around you. Not the world outside.
    It’s the story you invent in your head — the judgment that was never spoken, the plot against you that was never written.
    Silence that fiction, and you’ll finally be free to write the truth.

    Bella’s Response.

    Operation Enemy? Not Me!

    The humans have a strange obsession. They keep whispering about “the enemy within.” Apparently, the real battle isn’t with squirrels, postmen, or the vacuum cleaner, but with yourself.

    Ridiculous.

    I, Bella, Supreme Commander of Couch Patrol and Grand Duchess of Biscuit Retrieval, can assure you: I am not my own enemy. Not in reality. Not in imagination. Not in this lifetime, or the next one where I reincarnate as a wolf with a Netflix deal.

    Why would I sabotage myself? Who in their right paw would hide their own treats? Who would plant doubt in their own head when there are clearly pigeons plotting on the garden fence? Who would tell themselves “you can’t do it” when there’s a pizza box sitting unguarded on the counter

    Humans. That’s who.

    The humans imagine enemies in the shadows of their own minds. They invent villains where there are only Mondays. They blame ghosts for what is really just procrastination. And then they sigh, scratch their heads, and wonder why nothing changes.

    Not me. When I close my eyes, my imagination is my ally. I dream of endless fields, infinite snacks, and humans who exist solely to rub my belly on rotation. My imagination fuels me. It never fights me.

    Because here’s the truth: Bella would never betray Bella. I am my own cheerleader, my own general, my own best friend. The only enemy I’ll ever recognise is the squirrel on the fence—and even then, I respect his hustle.

    So, to all humans reading this: stop imagining enemies where there are none. Take a note from my pawbook—make your imagination your partner, not your prison. And never, ever fight yourself when you could be fighting the hoover.

    Mission complete. Treat requested.

  • Bella’s advice to your young self

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    Bella read yesterday’s story and reckons it was too long-winded for her, so she put together her own version. Enjoy.

    Operation Rags-to-Riches: The Pawper’s Gambit

    How could the son of a pauper expect to become a millionaire?

    Simple. By committing the gravest of social crimes: daring to step outside the environment he was issued at birth.

    Humans treat an environment like a dog treats a fence—if it’s there, it must be destiny. “Sorry, pal, you were born on the wrong side of the hedge. No fetch games in the garden of wealth for you!” Meanwhile, the rich pups chase golden tennis balls while the rest chew sticks and call it character-building.

    But let’s not bark too loudly at the injustice—because here’s the punchline: when someone from the wrong side does make it, the crowd gasps as if they’d just watched a Chihuahua scale Everest. “Impossible! How did he do it?” The answer whispered like a state secret: he changed his environment. He found new toys, new trainers, and new fields to run in.

    And suddenly, the son of a pauper with muddy paws is gnawing on the bone of fortune, while the rest still sit obediently in their kennels waiting for destiny to drop kibble from the sky.

    The truth? Environment is the leash. You can chew through it—but you’ll need sharp teeth, stubborn jaws, and perhaps a touch of lunacy. Or, as I like to call it, Bella Energy™.

    So next time someone asks, “How could the son of a pauper expect to become a millionaire?”—just grin, wag your tail, and say:

    “By not asking permission.”