Keith Brendan

29/08/2026

A bittersweet day.

Holding space for life in one moment… and preparing to honour death in another.

This is part of the life we chose.

Taking your power back sounds beautiful… until you meet the parts you can’t outsource.

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

26/08/2026

Last night I handed my 10 year old daughter The Alchemist.

She is an absolute bookworm. LOVES reading. Like love LOVES!!!

But normally it’s graphic novels, older kid chapter books, bigger fonts, some pictures… that sort of thing.

So I wasn’t sure how she’d go with this.

I explained a little bit about what the book was about and said something like

“If you don’t like it, that’s all good, you can stop reading it. I’ll give you a money back guarantee 😝🤣”

Well…

She’s already 100 pages in 😂

And she LOVES it.

It’s pretty special watching your kids begin discovering ideas that have shaped the way you see the world.

Dreams.

Courage.

Intuition.

Fear.

Following the little signs along the way.

And I reckon the coolest part is that she’ll read this book completely differently at 10 than she would at 20, 30, 40 and beyond.

Right now, perhaps it’s simply an adventure about a shepherd boy searching for treasure.

Then one day, years from now, she might remember a line or an idea from this book and suddenly understand it in an entirely different way.

That’s one of the beautiful parts of raising kids.

We don’t need to tell them what to think.

We can simply put interesting doors in front of them…

and let them decide which ones they want to walk through.

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

Carol | Doing Life Differently
Paulo Coelho

26/08/2026

I feel like this is the part people don’t always see when they talk about building a different kind of life.

It’s not all big visions, beautiful land, prim and proper manicured lawns, gardens, and sunsets.

Sometimes it looks like a toilet in a pop up tent at the end of a hallway. 😂

Sometimes it looks like making do for months because there are twenty other things that need your time, money and attention first.

And then one day you get sick of looking at it, grab some timber and old corrugated iron, and make the space a little more yours.

That was yesterday.

Built the frame.

Braced it.

Cladded both sides.

Hung a curtain.

Done.

Nothing flash.

Nothing pinterest worthy.

Just using what we had and fixing the thing that was right in front of me.

And I reckon that’s probably a bigger part of building the life you want than people realise.

We can spend so long waiting for more money, more time, the perfect materials, the perfect plan…

when sometimes the next step is just making one corner better.

One wall.

One garden.

One fence.

One room.

One decision.

That’s pretty much how this whole place has been coming together.

Not all at once.

Just bit by bit, as we live here.

And somehow, over time, it starts feeling more and more like ours.

Home isn’t something we found here.

We’re building it.

One little job at a time.

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

23/08/2026

There’s a feeling that hangs around after a day like yesterday.

I walked back into the tent this morning to clean up and instantly I was back there.

The mats.

The blankets.

The smell of incense still in the canvas.

The rain on the roof.

The frogs.

The crickets.

The guinea fowl and roosters somewhere in the distance.

At one point yesterday I even turned the music off because nothing I could play was better than what was already happening around us.

And standing there again this morning, I felt that deep gratitude for this work.

I sometimes say I feel entrusted with a gift to share.

I don’t mean that like I have some special power.

I’m not the healer.

I don’t have all the answers.

I can only create the conditions.

The space.

The safety.

The set and setting.

Because most people are carrying a bloody lot.

Always switched on.

Thinking.

Doing.

Holding everyone else.

And sometimes you don’t realise how tightly you’ve been holding yourself until you finally find somewhere you feel safe enough to soften.

That’s the part I love.

Creating a space where you don’t have to perform.

Where you don’t have to force some massive breakthrough.

Where you can breathe, soften, feel, release, laugh, cry, be quiet, move, shake or simply lie there and remember yourself again.

That’s the gift, if I can call it that.

Not changing people.

Giving them somewhere they can meet themselves.

This is me.

And if something about these spaces keeps tugging at you, maybe there’s a reason.

Maybe you don’t need another thing to learn.

Maybe you just need somewhere you can finally put some of it down.

The gate is open (well it’s physically closed but you know what I mean 🤣)

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

21/08/2026

Before anyone arrives, the work has already begun.

The sweeping.

The mats.

The altar.

The instruments.

The smudging.

The little details nobody really sees.

And then, somewhere along the way, an empty tent in the bush starts to feel like something else.

A space to step out of the noise.

A space to stop carrying everything for a while.

A space to go inward.

Tomorrow two people will walk through this entrance for a deep dive ceremony.

What happens from there isn’t something I can predict or manufacture.

My role is simply to prepare the space, tend the container, stay present, and meet whatever the day brings.

That part of this work means a lot to me.

The ceremony begins long before the ceremony begins.

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

21/08/2026

Next weekend we bring The Healing Breath into Glen Innes. 🧡

And this one feels pretty special to me.

For years I’ve held these gatherings in other communities, along the coast, in halls and spaces away from home, and more recently out here on the land.

Now, for the first time, I’m bringing one into Glen Innes itself.

Saturday 29 August.

A room.
A small group of humans.
Ceremonial cacao.
Breath.
Music.
Live instruments.
Stillness.
Emotion.
Laughter.
Tears.
Whatever wants to be there.

No performance.

No pressure to “heal”.

No expectation that you need to arrive as some particular version of yourself.

Sometimes we just need somewhere to stop carrying everything for a few hours.

Somewhere we can put the outside world down.

Breathe.

And remember what it feels like to actually be here.

That’s what I want this morning to offer.

Our first Glen Innes gathering.

The door is open.

Come as you are. 🧡🤠

Saturday 29 August
10am – approx. 1pm
Girl Guides Hall, Glen Innes
$88

Bookings + all details 👇

Experience ceremonial cacao, guided breathwork, music and connection in the heart of Glen Innes. No experience needed. Come as you are.

15/08/2026

A couple of years ago I heard about a breathwork facilitator who’d been to Hervey Bay and apparently said he wouldn’t come back unless 50+ people booked.

That stuck with me.

Not because there’s anything wrong with wanting a full room, or needing an event to make financial sense.

But there was something about the idea of, if there aren’t enough people, it’s not worth my while, that just felt a little too commercialised for me.

A little too transactional.

Like the value of the gathering suddenly depends on whether enough bodies are in the room.

Almost a bit, too bad, so sad, call me when there’s enough of you.

And I remember thinking, that’s just not how I want to do this.

Today was probably the perfect example.

A few people pulled out of our gathering here and, in the end, one person came.

I gave her the option to postpone and come along another time, because I didn’t want her expecting a group and then arriving to find out she was the only one there.

That can be a very different experience when you’re not prepared for it.

She chose to come.

So we sat.

We shared cacao.

We breathed.

And I was genuinely just as happy to hold that space for one person as I would’ve been for 10, 50 or 100.

Of course I love a full room.

There’s something pretty special about multiple people breathing together, the energy building, the space amplifying.

It’s unmatched.

And of course there are practical realities around time, energy and money.

But I never want numbers alone to decide whether another human being is worth showing up for.

And today reminded me of something else too.

You really never know what a day is carrying.

Sometimes the days that look small from the outside end up meaning far more than you could have known at the beginning.

Sometimes you think you know what the day is about…

and then life quietly shows you otherwise.

So yeah.

1 or 100.

I’ll light the fire.

People are worth it.

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

11/08/2026

This is the stuff.

Lights off.
Michael Jackson absolutely cranking.
Kids skating around the dining hall like they own the joint.

Nothing organised.
Nothing particularly special happening.

Just another night at home.

And weirdly, these are the moments I reckon I’ll remember most.

Not the big plans.
Not what we built.
Not how much work got done.

This stuff right here.

The random Tuesday nights where someone decides the dining hall is now a roller rink.

The music’s too loud.

Kids having a ball.

And I’m just sitting there looking at it thinking…

I love our life.

We didn’t move out here because we had some perfectly mapped out vision of what family life was supposed to look like.

I think we just wanted more room for this.

More time together.

More silliness.

More ordinary nights that somehow become the good old days while you’re still living them.

Nights like this happen pretty often here.

And I hope they always do.

🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅

11/08/2026

The Census is just the joke.

The real issue for me, is much bigger.

I’m dead set against the ever expanding reach of grubberment into virtually every corner of our lives.

More rules.
More permits.
More licences.
More databases.
More surveillance.
More information.
More hoops.
More authority deciding what grown adults may or may not do with their own lives.

And every individual intrusion gets sold as reasonable.

“It’s only a form.”
“It’s only a regulation.”
“It’s only for safety.”
“It’s only a little more information.”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide…”

Until one day you look around and realise the government has slowly inserted itself into farkn everything.

I don’t want to be managed from cradle to grave.

I don’t believe freedom means being allowed to choose between the options authority has already approved for you.

And I don’t believe a human being exists merely as a taxpayer, voter, customer number, licence holder, statistic, record or legal checkbox.

I’m a living fu***ng man! 💪🔥

A husband.
A father.
A neighbour.
A member of my community.

And as far as I’m concerned, government should occupy a very, VERY small space in that picture, if at all……………

Serve the people.
Maintain the basic s**t we collectively need.
Protect genuine rights.

Then get the f**k out of the way.

So yes, I’ll take the p**s out of the Census.

But underneath the joke is something I take very seriously.

I want my kids to inherit more freedom than I did. Not less.

And I’ll spend the rest of my life pushing back against anything moving us in the opposite direction.

Anyway…

for legal purposes, this video is clearly satire, parody, comedy, interpretive theatre and definitely not life advice.

Obviously.

🤣🧡🤠

🐘🦁🦅