In the span of a few months, Elle and I have encountered numerous individuals sharing that they had similar ideas to Souls of Byron Bay, or that someone close to them did. This phenomenon beautifully underscores the nature of an idea—it yearns so fervently for manifestation that it permeates the minds of many. Yet, it is the one who is prepared to embrace it, commit to it, nurture it with love, and see it through, who becomes the chosen one—or in our case, the chosen two.
I find it fascinating to view ideas as rendezvous points where the idea itself and the individual converge. It's akin to falling in love; barriers dissolve, and cosmic signals align, orchestrating synchronicities to cross your path. The idea persistently vies for your attention, nudging you awake in the dead of night, until you feel compelled to embark on the adventure it presents—or graciously release it, offering another the chance to embrace it.
Elizabeth Gilbert eloquently characterizes a creative idea as a supernatural, mystical occurrence—an experience transcending the ordinary. Creativity, she posits, is an enchanting force, its origins not entirely human, rational, or scientific. Ideas, she suggests, exist as disembodied energetic entities, separate from us yet capable of engaging with us on profound levels.