I’m on my flight back to Perth, and something inside me feels completely shaken—like I’ve been rattled, reset, and spit out with a new perspective. I just cried. Not from sadness, but from something deeper. A release. A letting go of fear, doubt, and years of questioning where I fit in as a creative.
I came to Sydney with no expectations. Just a plan to catch up with friends and take a break from my usual routine. The first couple of days were exactly that—wandering the city, long conversations, sauna sessions. A perfect reset.
But by day three, I found myself alone, walking aimlessly through the streets, feeling strangely disconnected. The high of arrival had faded, and in its place was this nagging question: Why am I here?
That morning, I woke up with a heavy feeling. A part of me wanted to book an early flight home, to retreat from whatever discomfort was creeping in. But instead, I took up an invitation from my friends Dean and Erica, who were working on a project called FRME FEST. They said I could come by the studio and hang out. No expectations, no pressure.
So I packed my bag and headed over, assuming I’d sit in the corner, answer emails, and stay out of the way.
The moment I walked into that studio, I felt it—the kind of energy that makes your skin tingle. The kind of space where everyone is creating not just for themselves, but with each other, for something bigger. It was effortless. It was exciting. It was something I hadn’t realised I’d been craving. It felt like i’d finally found my people.
Then came a test. A director’s chair was set up, a camera pointed at it, and I was asked if I wanted to sit down for an interview.
I froze. Let fear creep in, and politely declined.
I didn’t think much of it at first. But as they packed away the setup, I felt it—the sting of regret. That sinking feeling of knowing you let something pass you by, and there’s no getting it back.
But that moment of hesitation and self-awareness, was there to teach me something.
That could have been the story of this trip. But something told me I had a choice.
During a later shoot, I decided to speak up, to offer ideas, to get involved. Normally, I’d hesitate—afraid of stepping on toes, of taking up space. But here? This was a space meant for collaboration. And the more I leaned in, the more I realised something: I belong here.
Later, we gathered for a group discussion, and I was asked:
“Why do you create?”
My answer? “I don’t think I ever had a choice.”
As I shared my journey, I felt a deep emotional shift—recognising how far I’ve come, how every moment has led me here. Then someone in the group said something simple but profound:
“I never say no to an opportunity because you never know where it will take you.”
I let that sink in. And I knew, in that moment, I had been saying no for far too long.
I realised how often I let fear stop me from stepping into the unknown. So, I made a decision—no more hesitating, no more playing small.
The next morning, my last day in Sydney, I put that lesson to the test. What started as me sitting back, observing, turned into me standing behind the camera, mic in hand, leading an interview. Just 24 hours earlier, I would have convinced myself I wasn’t the right person for that.
So why am I pouring all of this into a blog mid-flight?
Because this week taught me something huge: Opportunities don’t just come to you—you create them.
For too long, I believed I had missed my prime, that my dreams had a deadline. This trip shattered that illusion. It reignited my belief in possibility, my drive to create, and—most importantly—showed me that the creative journey doesn’t have to be a lonely one.
I don’t know exactly what’s next, but I know I’m done sitting on the sidelines. If you’ve made it this far, you’re either crazy, love deep conversations, or both. Either way, I appreciate you. Let’s see where this journey takes us.
Much love,
Daniel
