The Little Things

I came back from a week in Morocco with that strange, heavy quiet in my chest—the one you get when you’ve seen how quickly “normal” can disappear.

One day, you’re debating whether to stop for a mint tea or push on to the next town. The next, water is forcing families out of their homes in the north-west, entire streets turned into rivers, and whole communities moving uphill with whatever they can carry. In the last week, the numbers have become staggering: more than 143,000 people evacuated, and in one place—Ksar El Kebir—up to 85% of the town reportedly had to leave.

Here’s the thing about floods: they don’t negotiate. They don’t care what you planned. They don’t care what you were “going to do next week.” They arrive with a hard lesson—fast.

And that lesson isn’t only about fear. It’s about perspective.

Because alongside the evacuations, there’s another truth: after years of drought in some parts of the country, the rain has also filled reservoirs—so much so that authorities have had to release water from dams to reduce risk. Think about that: water can be both salvation and danger in the same breath. Life’s like that too.

Back home in Scotland, we can forget how much we have. A warm room. A dry pair of socks. A phone that charges. A door that locks. A mate who answers when things are getting loud in your head. Tiny things—until they’re not.

At Hedzup, we talk a lot about opportunity. Not the fluffy, poster-on-a-wall kind. The real kind. The kind that looks like showing up when you don’t feel like it. Learning a skill you never thought you could learn. Being trusted with responsibility. Discovering you’re tougher than your own story told you.

Floods have a brutal way of stripping life back to essentials: safety, family, shelter, community. And when everything else is washed away, what’s left is character—who shows up, who shares, who carries, who checks on the neighbour who’s too proud to ask for help.

That’s the Hedzup heartbeat.

So here’s my ask—quietly, firmly: be grateful, and stay humble. Not as a slogan. As a practice. Say thank you more. Waste less. Judge less. Notice the people around you. If you’ve got stability, be the kind of person who lends it. If you’ve got skills, pass them on. If you’ve got a chance, take it—and take someone with you.

Because somewhere tonight, families are sleeping in temporary shelters, waiting for the water to drop, hoping tomorrow is kinder. And if that doesn’t make us hold the little things a bit closer—then we’ve missed the message.

When the waters rise, character remains. Be grateful. Stay grounded. Lift others.