There’s always time to take time out. The trick is taking it before life forces you to. Last week, I had no choice.
When you’re racing away from a cyclone, you pack the essentials. Clothes. Kids. A few irreplaceable things. The rest? You leave it all behind. And as we drove away with the news telling us we’d likely lose everything in the flood, we both looked at each other and said, “Everything that matters is in this car.”
That moment hit me hard. It’s not often you have to consider what it would mean to lose everything you own. But in that split second, I realised: we had everything we needed.
And then, just like that, I was forced to take a week off in the country—to breathe, to think, to ground.
And here’s what I learned.
1. There is always time to take time out.
Time out is essential but society doesn’t support it. We’ve normalised burnout, the hustle culture, and we glorify constantly being ‘on’. We wear busy-ness like a badge of honour.
It shouldn’t take a natural disaster to remind us to slow down and take time out.
Yet there I was, living at a different pace. Waking up to the sounds of birds instead of the beep of notifications. Drinking my morning coffee while watching the mist rise from the skyline instead of doom-scrolling on my phone. I was doing work that mattered without the noise.
And after a week of it, I felt it deep in my bones: we have the time. We just don’t take it.
2. The less you have, the more you focus.
The closest town was ten minutes away. It had a pub and a general store, that’s it. There was no constant stream of distractions, no traffic, and low-to-no internet meant less mindless online nothing-ness.
With fewer things around me, I was more present. When I did work, I worked smart. I focused on the important stuff instead of the urgent stuff which is often the wrong stuff anyway. It was a masterclass in clarity.
Stripping back the excess makes you see what really matters.
3. Theory only gets you so far. Living is how you learn.
For a week, we lived on solar, off the grid, with a composting toilet, showering in rainwater. It wasn’t a ‘lesson’—it was life.
Floss got to see, firsthand, where power comes from. How to use less. How to look after what we have. It wasn’t just a ‘teachable moment’—it was practice.
And that’s the thing about big ideas. You can read about them, plan them, talk about them—but until you live them, they’re just theory. Real learning happens in the doing.
4. I don't need a mansion or a fancy car and you probably don't either.
With space to reflect, I reevaluated what I really need in life. And you know what? It’s so much less than I thought.
We lived for a week in a space the size of my lounge room, and we were fine. Better than fine. We were connected.
So everything I create, everything I share with the world, is going to shift. It’s going to be more valuable, more impactful, because I know now: it’s not about more, it’s about meaning.
5. Family is a choice, and the ones you choose are everything.
Without distractions, without the constant busy, I had time for deep, meaningful conversations with family. Real conversations. The kind we don’t have enough of anymore.
We need more of that in the world. Less rushing, more connecting. Less noise, more presence. Less comparison, more compassion.
Whether it's our family or the tribe we choose to surround ourselves with, the people we choose to have in our personal orbit are super important. They should add, not take, from our lives.
And then coming home felt a little excessive.
When I walked back into my house, it felt… big. And I live in a humble three-bedroom, one-bathroom house, my two girls share one room, and it's enough.
For the week I was forced to escape the city, I had lived in a small space with the bare essentials, and I had been happy. The contrast was jarring. It made me question what I actually need to live well.
And that’s exactly why I do what I do. I want to help you build a business you love, in a space of 'enough'. I want to help you embrace enough-ness.
I want to help you run a business you love—one that makes the world a better place—without drowning in more.
Because the ‘stuff’ is just ‘stuff’.
Health. Love. Wealth (which is so much more than money). The time to enjoy them.
That’s what matters.
So if you’re ready to build a business that fits into your version of ‘enough’—one that gives you space, clarity, and impact—let’s talk.
Your happy place in business is waiting.
Claire x
