@ibcreativestudio: INNER ARC SERIES Reflections from a life being rebuilt in real time SOMETHINGS YOU RECOGNISE WITHOUT KNOWING WHY The other day, I found myself watching an interview with Phil Collins when something unexpected happened. It wasn’t the music that caught me. It was him. For all the success, the fame, the records sold, and the stages he has stood on throughout his life, there didn’t seem to be any hierarchy in the room. No need to be bigger than anyone else. No need to prove anything. Just a person sitting with another person. Present. Human. But more than that, there was a presence. Not loud. Not performative. Just… there. A kind of quiet gravity. The sort of presence that doesn’t ask to be noticed, but somehow fills the space anyway. He wasn’t doing anything in particular. He was simply existing in the moment. And yet you could feel him. Like the room had settled into him, rather than him trying to fill the room. And that’s when I thought of Geoff. Not as a comparison. Not in a direct way. But as a familiar shape in memory. Geoff was my stepdad. He was married to my mum for thirty years and became a huge part of our family’s story. Four years ago, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer and passed away within six months. Yesterday would have been his birthday. Maybe that’s why he was already somewhere close to the surface of my thoughts. Maybe that’s why this moment found its way in. Because what I recognised in that interview wasn’t illness or endings. It was presence. Geoff had that too. A way of being where he didn’t need to fill silence with words. Where he didn’t need to dominate a space to belong in it. He could just be there. Solid. Steady. Quietly felt. And over time, I’ve realised how rare that is. Not always expressed in grand speeches. Not always worn on the outside. But deeply rooted. A love for family that didn’t always need to announce itself, but showed up in its own way. Sometimes in small gestures. Sometimes in a look. Sometimes in a hug that lasted longer than expected. It wasn’t always easy to read. But when it came through, it meant everything. Because it wasn’t performed. It was real. There is something both beautiful and difficult about that kind of life. Beautiful because those moments were real when they happened. Difficult because they weren’t always there in the ways we might have hoped for. But the older I get, the less interested I become in perfect narratives. Life isn’t made of perfect stories. It’s made of moments. And sometimes all it takes is watching a stranger being interviewed on television to be reminded of someone you loved, not because they are the same, but because something in the way they carry themselves reaches across time and memory and quietly says, I know this shape. A note of appreciation To Phil Collins, thank you. Thank you for the music, and also for the presence that stirred this reflection. There is something deeply human in the way you speak about your life and family, something that carries both strength and tenderness without needing to choose between them. Your work and your presence have left a mark far beyond charts or awards. They’ve been part of people’s lives in moments of joy, grief, reflection, and everything in between. And in this moment, they helped bring Geoff back into thought with a kind of quiet gentleness. Sending love and appreciation to you and your family. These reflections are becoming more than journal entries. They are evolving into tools for self-expression, reflection, conversation, scalability, and collaboration. If any part of this resonates with you, you’re welcome to follow the journey as Inner Arc continues to grow. IB Creative Inner Arc Series #InnerArc #Presence #Reflection #GriefAndHealing #Family

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Tuesday 16 June 2026 06:02:23 GMT