Alex Wright-Moore on the quiet work of becoming
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I recently shared my journey for HerCanberra’s How I Got Here series — a personal reflection on becoming that traced the inner evolution behind my work and the beliefs that reshaped my life.
It was the most vulnerable and liberating piece I’ve published yet, speaking to transformation, possibility, and the quiet magic of choosing — and trusting — your path.
After the article went live, I fell into a full vulnerability hangover — the kind where you retreat, go quiet, and wait for the world to pass judgment on your character, your choices, and the parts of your story that you’d been keeping close to your chest. For three days, I slipped into hermit mode, bracing for impact.
But then the world responded in ways that blew my mind.
I heard from husbands who had walked beside their partners through complicated IVF journeys and felt forever inspired by the resilience they witnessed.
From high-performing women on the brink of burnout, trying to remember who they were beneath the weight of career and motherhood.
From humanitarians still in the thick of volatile field operations, longing for a path toward a more peaceful existence.
From retirees who had woven energy work into their daily rituals for thirty years and credited their life’s achievements to a balanced inner world.
From mothers of newborns who felt cracked open by matrescence and excited by the possibility of becoming someone new.
From individuals who had weathered trauma and were trying to find a way to break the cycle and build a different future.
And from a surprising number of people who quietly believed in the magic of energetic alignment, but feared speaking about it publicly, lest they no longer be taken seriously at work, at home, or in their communities.
The messages kept coming, but no matter who was writing, something struck a deep chord within me. Every story carried the same thread — resonance.
That unmistakable feeling of recognition when someone else’s truth vibrates at the same frequency as your own.
A thread of your experiences gave me a language for how I see the world too.
A thread of your story woke something within me that somehow felt both different and familiar — almost like remembering.
A thread of your words helped me feel seen.
And isn’t that the greatest gift we can offer each other as humans?
The gift of connection.
The gift of come as you are; you are welcome here.
The gift of being recognised, understood, and reminded that your experiences matter.
The gift of identity and belonging.
After all my years of writing, it reminded me why I continue to put my heart right out there on the page, despite the chance it could be pulverised — because courage is a multiplier. It expands what becomes possible in our lives when we are willing to step outside of our comfort zone and speak from the truth of who we are. And in the words of the ever-wise Hafiz, “The words you speak become the home you live in.”
So why does this matter so much, especially now, when the state of the world can feel volatile and unpredictable?
Because every day we make choices and speak words that either bring us closer to the truth of who are — and who we can be for each other — or pull us further away from the version of ourselves capable of energetically holding what we wish to call in. Not just for our own lives, but for the collective future we’re all shaping.
As we begin to experience the emergence of spring here in the Southern Hemisphere, there really is no better time to sow the seeds of what you wish to experience more of — in your life and in the world at large.
A fellow coach recently shared that her word for the rest of 2026 was ease. When expanding on what that meant for her, she said:
“People I can soften around.
Conversations that leave me lighter.
Work with meaning.
Rest without guilt.
Joy without urgency.
A life I don’t have to force.”
As spring opens its doorway, pay attention to what word wants to rise within you — the energy you’re ready to inhabit, practice, and breathe into on a regular basis. Ask yourself: What feels alive in me?
It doesn’t need to be perfect – only true.
Because truth has a way of opening every door.
Photo credit: Glad You’re Here Co. | Soft Art for Hard Days – glad you’re here co.
