A date with myself

On matcha, wind-blown hair, and the art of standing still — just for a moment

I have a standing date. Every week — or at least, that’s the plan. Reality doesn’t always cooperate, but I try. A date with no one but myself.

No agenda. No clients. No Human Design charts to decode. No one needing anything from me.

Just me, my journal, and ideally a very good cup of something.

This week, I make it happen.

I have had more of my beloved winter weather than I could have possibly hoped for this year. More snow than I could have dreamed of. But last week, somewhere between one too many grey mornings and a deep bone-tiredness I couldn’t quite name, I said it out loud: I am ready for spring. And the weather gods? They heard me. Immediately.

Spring arrives embarrassingly early — like that guest who shows up forty minutes before the party and you’re still in your dressing gown. But honestly? I’m not complaining. The sun is out, the air has that soft, warm quality that makes you feel like life is basically fine. So I make a decision: top down, sunscreen on, wind completely destroying my hair, and off to Antwerp.

A local points me toward a quiet little place. No loud music, no overcrowded tables, no oat milk matcha latte with seventeen toppings and a name written wrong on the cup. Just proper matcha — clean, basic, a little bitter, deeply satisfying. And a home made breakfast that makes me feel quietly looked after.

I plug in my earphones, open my journal, and let the world go soft around the edges.

This is what I’m chasing, every single week. That feeling of time slowing down. No notifications pulling at my sleeve. No to-do list tapping its foot impatiently. No distractions whatsoever. Just thoughts arriving, one by one, at a reasonable pace — instead of the usual stampede.

Because lately? My head is full. Human Design has taken over my brain in the most beautiful, slightly obsessive way. It doesn’t just fill my working hours — it follows me into the shower, into dinner, into every conversation that I have, into that moment just before sleep when your mind is supposed to go quiet. Instead: more charts. More concepts. More “wait, but what if—”

I love it. And I also need a break from it. Both are true.

So today, I write. I plan. I let ideas that have been piling up in the corners of my mind finally find some space. Projects that need starting. Plans that need making. Thoughts that have been circling for weeks, waiting for a runway.

My head clears. Slowly. Like a window after a hot shower.

And then, shuffling through old playlists — the ones I haven’t touched in months — a song lands. All On Me by Devin Dawson. A love song in the truest sense. The kind where someone looks at another person and basically says: I would do anything. Everything. Whatever it takes.

You got my number you can call on me
If you’re in trouble, put the fall on me
When you’re mad you can take it out on me
When it don’t add up you can count on me
When you’re low, come get high on me
Make it slow take your time on me

I sit with it for a moment.

Sometimes music just passes through me — background noise, pleasant but forgettable. Sometimes it actively irritates me, which tells me something about my mood. But sometimes — on the right day, in the right moment, in a quiet café with good matcha — a song reaches in and touches something real.

Today is one of those days.

A date with myself. Wind in my hair on the way there. Quiet on arrival. Ideas untangled, plans sketched out, and one unexpected song reminding me that love — in all its forms — is worth paying attention to.

I’ll be honest: I’m not solving everything today. I never do.

But my head is clearer. My journal is fuller. And somewhere between the matcha and the music, time does exactly what I needed it to do.

It stands still.

That’s enough. That’s more than enough — it’s a delight.

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