There’s a quiet revolution taking root, not in corporate boardrooms or our government’s offices (sadly!) but in gardens, art studios, neighbourhood parks and community projects. It’s a revolution that begins with small acts of care and imagination, where people are daring to envision a world that prioritises life, in all its forms, over profit.

As the year turns and the light begins to fade, we find ourselves standing at a threshold: the space between autumn and winter, life and death, what has been and what is yet to come. Across centuries and cultures, this time has always been understood as one of reflection, remembrance and renewal.

Here in the northern hemisphere, Samhain marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the darker half of the year. It is a moment to pause, to take stock and turn inward to honour the cycles of life that hold us all.

Twenty years is a long time, and yet it passes so quickly. Today marks two decades since I first set foot in the UK. What was meant to be a ten-month gap year became something altogether different and unexpected. If I’ve learned anything over the past couple of decades, it’s that life rarely unfolds as planned.