bsky: Good conversations don’t just end. They leave something behind — a shift, a question, an idea that stays with you. Enough of those moments built up, so I started writing them down. Not overworked, just intentional. First post’s up, if you want to see where it begins. https://prickly.oxhe.art/blog-to-be-used/

blog to be used

The internet is littered with abandoned sites — ghost towns of half-finished thoughts and good intentions. Starting another one might seem like the digital equivalent of adopting a third cat when the first two already judge you for your life choices. But here we are.

I already have a personal site — an unstructured library of psychological puzzles, cultural observations, and occasional artistic experiments. It’s where ideas roam free like slightly unhinged street dogs — charming, unpredictable, sometimes they bite. But life coaching? That work needs its own place where thoughts don’t just pile up like untried recipes but get refined, organised, and turned into something worth reading.

This Blog is for You

If my personal site is a sprawling digital garden, “Prickly Oxheart” is a place with the ideas on a shorter leash. It’s the communal kitchen where perspectives are chopped down to essentials, and served in digestible portions. No meandering detours, no getting lost in the weeds — though occasionally, one of those street dogs from my personal site might wander in. But here, they get a soapy bath, a collar, and learn to sit before being introduced to the visitors.

This isn’t marketing. There’s no email funnel, no downloadable worksheet promising to “fix your life in 5 simple steps”. It’s just a place for my work to continue when I finish a call, still holding the thread of a conversation, and let it spill into writing.

Just direct, useful writing — the kind that gets you unstuck, not spiraling into a self-imposed existential crisis. Every post on “Prickly Oxheart” will start with a conversation. A real one. A client’s insight, a recurring theme in coaching sessions, a tension that lingers in the air like the smell of fresh bread in a café — sparking a craving you can’t ignore. This isn’t me musing into the void; it’s writing with someone in mind. Maybe you.

Coaching is not about grand declarations — it’s about small shifts that make a real difference. That’s the spirit of this site. Nothing — then a few words that might nudge a positive change. It’s fast and frequent — because that’s part of my agreement with you.

I don’t know exactly who will read this site, but I do know who I make it for:

• The people I coach.
• The people who might one day reach out.
• The ones in the middle of something — transition, doubt, change — who want sharper questions, not easy answers.
• You.

Nobody at this kitchen is trying to be a master chef — just people figuring out which ingredients are required and which recipes need adjusting, and how to nourish ourselves without letting the good food wilt unused in the crisper drawer.

No need for a reservation — just grab a plate and dig in. Try another post, chew on an idea, find how it tastes. And if something here stays with you, if it leaves you hungry for more, don’t just wipe your hands and walk away. The kitchen door is open, the stove’s still warm — drop me a note. Your life story matters. And like any good meal, it’s always better shared with others than consumed alone.

So pull up a chair at this communal kitchen table. Others are here now and have been before, working through the same questions over bowls of garden-fresh salads, breaking loaves of sourdough. Nobody’s trying to be a perfect chef — just people figuring out which ingredients are required and which recipes need adjusting, and how to nourish ourselves without letting the good food wilt unused in the crisper drawer.

Bring a plate to this table anytime. Sample the other posts. Let the connection keep simmering. When you find flavors that stay with you — or leave you craving conversations beyond these pages — the kitchen door is always open. Reach out, send me a note. Your life story matters. And like any good meal, it’s always better shared with others than consumed alone.

Savor that moment of recognition when a bite tastes familiar – that “aha” flash when your private struggles reveal themselves as standard fare on the menu of being human. Find comfort in knowing someone else has also tried to force-grow their life, only to discover some things wait for the proper season.