I walked into a cafe yesterday, taking a break mid way through a long drive. My children and two of their grandparents were with me; we had been away together and the kids had been up late the night before.  The car journey was a little taxing, as you might imagine, and the break was a welcome relief from being cooped up with tired, grumpy kids.

The first thing I saw in the cafe was a sign saying “Whatever is happening right now, be thankful” or something to that effect.

Funnily enough it was a great reminder of what I’d been practicing the whole time we had been away. In another mood, one where my feelings were being dictated by everything I was experiencing, I’d likely have hated that sign and wanted to make a rude gesture; at least in my head.

As it was, I’d been practicing just being in the moment. Not every moment, I’m a long way off that, but a handful of moments throughout the day when I remember to pay attention to the here and now rather than being caught up in my head. It is often said “the days are long but the years are short”. I can vouch for feeling this way any time I am doing something I’m not enjoying, particularly if I let myself get caught up in the kids’ drama.

If, in any single moment, I am contemplating more than that very moment in all its glory, I’m increasing my timeline right there, no wonder it’s said the days are long. Like if the kids are fighting or asking to watch TV, there is always a subtext going on in my head “why can’t they just get along?”, “why did I get involved instead of letting them sort it out?”, “are my kids going to spend their entire summer holidays watching TV?” or even “am I failing my kids?”

That subtext is taking me out of what is actually happening. I take the moment, obscure the moment with my thoughts and then get caught up in my worries, serving no purpose whatsoever except to keep me stuck.

And if I am not focused on whatever is actually happening in the here and now, and looking for the things to be thankful for, it’s no wonder the years are short because there are so few moments of true presence in order to truly appreciate and feel like I’m progressing.

Yet if I can be in the moment, this is when everything is happening. This is when I’m at my most happy, when I feel I am progressing.

Let me give you an example, at one point in the last week we took the kids to the swimming pools. After the palaver of getting everyone up, fed and ready, then getting us there, I was looking forward to my swim. While the kids and their grandparents played in the other pools, I took a lane in the big pool and swam up and down for about twenty minutes.

As often happens when I’m swimming, there are many moments I become aware that I’m thinking about something, usually something that is fruitlessly going around and around in my head. When I become aware I’m doing that, I switch focus to the ripples on the floor of the pool sparkling in the sunshine and that makes me smile.

It makes me smile because – in that moment - I remember how lucky I am.  There I was on holiday with some of my family, my kids were happy and well looked after, and I was looking after my body and enjoying the process of going up and down the pool. Everything was going well.

Just a couple of weeks ago, we were having friends over for a barbecue and – because they were running late - I decided to put something in the car ahead of a journey I was making the next day. It was because of that I discovered the battery in my car was completely flat; an inside light had been left on.

Sure, it was a little hectic for a while with our friends’ late arrival coinciding with the arrival of the guy from the AA, but it was a whole lot better than what could have happened. The next day I was due to pick up my dad from the airport, a few hours’ drive away, had I of woken up to discover a dead battery as I was in a rush to leave the next morning it would have been pretty stressful.

So as my friend was profusely apologizing for their rather late arrival, I was just as profusely thankful that they had been late, it had saved me a whole lot of anxiety. Coming into the moment, I was really grateful for the way things had worked out.

The same when I stopped at that cafe. Although the atmosphere in the car had been a little tense, we’d had a great time on the holiday. The weather had been great, there was plenty to do and see, the place was lovely, everyone had gotten along well and the weather was now overcast for heading home, perfect for driving.

To top it off, the cafe was clean and bustling, the service and food were great and there was a kid’s play park right outside. Without getting caught up in the kids’ temporary drama, I was indeed thankful my life is pretty great.

That is just the thing, each time I pay attention to whatever is happening in the moment, life is not only better than the obscure version of whatever issues I had started to play in my mind, there is always a lot to be thankful for.

What do you have to be thankful for right now?
​
If you feel stuck in the weeds and would like a fresh perspective on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me with an outline of your circumstances or click here for further information, I love to help. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Many years ago now I heard someone recount words of Mother Teresa’s that really stuck with me “I was once asked why I don’t participate in anti-war demonstrations, I said that I will never do that. But as soon as you have a pro-peace rally I’ll be there.”

I was reminded of this as I was reading something similar to my kids this week. They are learning that it is much more powerful to talk about what they do want rather than what they don’t want, yet it is much more common for people to generally focus on the latter.

For example, when we were having people over at New Year’s, I talked to the kids beforehand about a few ground rules as we were expecting to have nine excited children in the house as well as all their parents. My eldest daughter wanted to write the rules down so we could read them to everyone, and the first draft was a no list.

• No playing in the bedrooms
• No leaving the property/garden
• No more than a two or three kids on the trampoline or in the pool at a time

That didn’t sound like much fun to me, so I asked her how we could write a more positive list. We took each one in turn and ended up with:

• Everyone is welcome to play in the lounge and garden areas
• Let’s stay within the property so we know where everyone is
• Let’s take turns to play on the tramp or in the pool with just a few people at a time so everyone can enjoy themselves

I don’t think we came up with the best alternatives possible, but we did manage to turn the action verbs around to create more positive mental pictures of what we did want rather than what we did not want.

That is, of course, the crux of the issue. Words create images in our mind; we can’t help but visualize a green elephant when we read or hear the words “green elephant”.  If I talk about not leaving the property, I can immediately see myself walking away from it.

This imagery makes it harder for us to do the right thing. Our body becomes geared for the action we have created a mental image of, so then we have to work harder to actually do the right things.

It is an eye opening exercise to simply start to noticing this phenomenon in society, it’s pervasive. Becoming aware of my own language is also an interesting experience.

I first really tried to focus on this when the kids just started becoming mobile, so you would think I’d be pretty adept at it now. Yet just this morning when my daughter woke up early I told her “do not get out of bed again please”, instead of just saying “stay in bed please.”

The other aspect of this is – in saying things from a negative standpoint – the receivers constantly feel their sense of freedom being eroded and become more resistant. Whereas when we focus on the more positive language, this is less of an issue.

Like any habit though, awareness is key. I catch myself doing it more and make a conscious effort to change it; especially since I know positive language is far more effective and keeps things flowing.

But it’s not just about positive and negative language in terms of things we should or should not do. My partner is a shocker when it comes to choosing his words. If taken on face value, he is the kind of guy you might peg as chauvinistic, and perhaps a bigot. Yet much of what he says comes more from a compulsion to push people’s buttons.

That said, while he may never have initially had any reason for his prejudices, over the years those words have found their evidence as all words do. If, for example, I think dogs are dirty animals, I will notice those examples around me that support this which is how we develop beliefs. Most of us never stop to question the initial premise as we are often unaware of where it comes from.

As with all of our thinking, it begins in our early childhood. And without any conscious intervention it continues on throughout our life gathering more and more evidence to support it. In my partner’s case I don’t have to look far to see where he inherited his enjoyment of winding people up and his prejudices.

Thankfully though my partner is consciously aware of his prejudices and, on the rare occasions he entertains a more serious conversation on the topic, he displays much more objectivity than his annoying wind-up statements would lead anyone to believe.   

This compulsion to wind people up arose from a frustration in expressing himself, which in recent years was diagnosed as ADHD and possible dyslexia. Often feeling invisible in a social setting because of this struggle to express himself verbally, he took the route of wind up merchant instead.

That said, even though his motivation is to provoke and push people’s buttons, just as in the examples I gave about our New Year’s get together, the words create imagery that is then hard for his brain to get past. So it is really only when the line of thinking is challenged in a non-confrontational way that his thinking opens up.

It is something that is becoming increasing important to him having brought two daughters into the world. He doesn’t want his deliberately provoking and inflammatory comments about females to become their reality.

The kids’ rhyme that says “sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me” does not ring true for me. Words can and do have great power. It’s better to offer a gift with kind words than a criticism. Another great quote of Mother Teresa’s is “Kind words can be short and easy to speak but their echoes are truly endless.” The opposite is also true.

So let’s choose our words wisely and have them work for us, rather than against us, supporting us in our best lives.

​With thanks to my partner for letting me share some of his story to help others. If you feel stuck in the weeds and would like a fresh perspective on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me with an outline of your circumstances or click here for further information, I love to help. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

In the latter part of the year the theme that kept coming through for me was about relaxing more, getting into a place where I could be open to the serendipities. I wasn’t sure I could even remember how to be like that anymore with two young kids to care for.

But with the pressure of the school day out of the equation for six weeks, life is much more fluid. I’m finding moments where I’m grinning to myself because I’m, well, happy.

The other morning my kids were deeply involved in putting together the new Lego sets their grandad had given them, and I was busy trying to catch up on some work around the house at the same time as responding to all their questions and demands.

I had intended to go for a swim at the local pool to get my body moving and clear my head because I’d spent six hours driving the car the day before. But before I knew it, several hours had gone by. With my dad visiting I was mindful of getting us all out the house at some point to enjoy some of the New Zealand summer.

So I had a decision to make: should I postpone the swim in a bid to get out everyone out the house, or should I postpone getting everyone out of the house to have a swim? With the pool closing early that day, I decided to opt for the latter and put my own needs first.

As it transpired I was back within the hour and the kids and their grandad were still engrossed in Lego; although they had also prepared a picnic in my absence. Meanwhile I had happily swam up and down the pool watching the dappled sunlight reflected on the bottom, grinning to myself as I took each breath; it felt great to take care of my own needs.

I also thought of the many times in the past where I put others’ needs before my own. The many lunchtimes I could have put to personal use at work instead of eating on the go and working through. The numbers of times I have visited people, or had them staying at my house, and not taken the time to even just stretch out my muscles or have a quiet moment to meditate or read a book.

Having kids took taking care of others’ needs to a whole new level. So I grinned to myself again on that day I took a swim as I walked along the beach in the afternoon while the kids made sandcastles with their grandad. These moments have given me the chance to reflect on the wonderful time we are having.

I am enjoying the fluidity and have wondered how much of that I can retain once school goes back. Over the last few years I have had to dial back on a tremendous amount of activity in order to help both my kids’ wellbeing and my own sanity.

School generally takes the kids to the outer edges of their capacity to interact with the world. One child withdraws within, eventually bursting with the force of a volcano, and the other explodes into tirades at the drop of a hat. Both need lots of downtime, so any laissez faire attitude I had about social activity when they initially started school quickly got reigned in.

It also means quite regimented bedtimes in order to arrive at school before the bell rings in the mornings; their natural inclination would be to go to bed later and get up later.  This means we are always pushing against our natural rhythm and desire for more social activity in order to just attend school.

However, as they are getting older I can see their stamina developing and know we will be able to get more fluid over time. I am mindful of allowing their strength and stamina to increase naturally in the way a young shoot does as it grows, I don’t want them to become hardened on the outside at the cost of obscuring what’s on the inside.

By the same token, I don’t want to be so rigid about protecting their space that I’m limiting their growth. Neither do I want to feel like I’m making a sacrifice and becoming a martyr, which is where I have felt myself drawn on many an occasion; all because I’ve previously opted to put others needs before mine too many times.

But this summer I’ve taken the brakes off and let the days unfold as they want to, and it is giving me a good sense of where the kids are up to and a glimpse of the possibilities ahead. That in itself makes me smile, we are slowly edging our way towards more flow.

In the meantime, I am stepping out on the right foot in 2019 and making it a priority to put my own needs first more of the time. What about you? As 2019 gets underway, will you prioritise your wellbeing so you too can be more relaxed and be open to the serendipities that lead to your best life?

​If you feel stuck in the weeds and would like a fresh perspective on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me with an outline of your circumstances or click here for further information, I love to help. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog

“We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.” Robert Burns

As a Scot, each New Year is traditionally met with a rousing rendition of this famous song. There is a pause before we leap into the future, and this pause is the now in which we can honour the present and past.

While it’s often a time we remember those no longer with us, it’s also a time to reflect on those challenges we have weathered, risen to and risen up from. It’s a time to look upon others with kindness, ourselves too.

I have to say this year seems to be at its end in the blink of an eye, yet it has taken me through my first full year without mum in the world. It has also brought both my children to new places in their development and they have changed and grown in so many ways.

As a family we have literally been out in the world more, having travelled together a few times. My partner’s business has matured and grown, with more of his creative efforts in the homes around the Bay.

I followed my inspiration earlier in the year to approach Tiny Buddha, a place online I love, and now my own work is published on this and other platforms. That means there are more of my insights out there in the world, having reached and helped more people.

In terms of my wellbeing, I’m experimenting more with fresh and raw foods, especially after getting my hands in the soil and taking on the garden this year. I’m also regularly back in the pool after a 30 year absence, and
I’m getting better at making conscious choices that honour my authentic self.

Even although there has been nothing monumental, unlike last year with mum’s illness and death, it’s been quite a year.

And while I look back on some of the year’s challenges and successes, I also am aware of the many people around me going through some tough times of their own at the moment.

Like a mother with her newborn baby, challenged by not being able to move for hours at a time while breastfeeding and not being able to be there for her older child in the way she would like to. This is aside of the physically demanding aspects of feeding and having to carry a baby everywhere, all underpinned with inadequate sleep.

There is a man who has finally found someone to love and who loves him, but she has been ill. Doctors think her liver may not last another two years. While she has outlived the opinions of the medical world before, it’s a lot to process and he has retreated within himself.

I know a lady who has had the courage to leave a marriage, that wasn’t honouring her needs, and is struggling to navigate the ongoing relationship necessary for their children.

There is another man whose ex partner has died; a lovely lady, taken too early from the world by cancer. His sadness and grief are deepened by regrets about the relationship they had, wishing he had been more attentive when they had been together. 

As someone who is always looking for words to uplift or inspire when people are looking for a perspective on a situation in their lives, I also know there are times when there is nothing I can say that won’t sound trite.

In these situations the people I know are just trying to live through their moments of grief, anger, frustration and guilt among the many other emotions. I know each of them will find their way through the tough times and be somehow more for it, hopefully with some kindness from others and towards themselves.

That is the word I particularly like from Auld Lang Syne, kindness. We all deserve kindness. No matter how well we feel we have done, or how poorly. No matter whether it’s towards others or ourselves – in fact, it has to start with ourselves in order for us to give it fully to others.

For example, I know I am often tougher on myself than anyone else could ever be, and spend far too much of my life worrying about the past or future rather than just being kind to myself in the present. 

Cogito, ergo sum is a Latin philosophical proposition by René Descartes usually translated into English as "I think, therefore I am". A friend sent me a photo yesterday of a clever twist by Gemma Correll that resonated “I over think, therefore I am anxious”.

Interestingly I then started to over-think the statement, rather unkindly berating myself for over-thinking and wondering what I needed to do to rid myself of this habit. Then I realised that is a negative spiral, I had to remind myself I was already on the trail of this one. In fact, as I said above, I’m getting better and better at bringing conscious awareness to my thoughts and making different choices.

Whatever the year 2018 has been to you, take this moment to reflect on it. Sip and savour each part for just a little while and be kind to yourself while you’re doing it; give credit where it’s due. While next year will soon be upon us, look how far you’ve come and where you are right at present. Take a cup of kindness for auld lang syne and for the here and now.

If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

If someone said to you that over-effort was indoctrinated in you and, over time, it’s confiscated your sense of joy, how does that make you feel?

For many of us, having being brought up in societies that value productivity and extrovert behaviours, it’s a statement of truth. Certainly it is for me, although I hadn’t thought about it in terms of my sense of joy; it makes sense, but seems sad.

The point is amplified when I think in terms of lining up with my life purpose and all the things I really want in my future. I am aware over-effort creates a stressed, striving version of me, whereas going with the flow creates a more relaxed version. I also know from experience I am more likely to notice the little serendipities that connect the dots to my best life when I am in a relaxed, easier frame of mind.

Therefore, I know ease is my aim. Yet it kind of freaks me out, I’m not confident in my ability to just relax these days.

I can remember days long past on the beach during summer holidays with nothing to do but swim, go for walks and lounge in the sun. So I know it’s possible for me to switch off.

Yet, with two young kids in the picture, the aforementioned indoctrination into over-effort and my attentive nature, I know achieving a state of ease will take focus and commitment. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my system and I can visualize the over-efforting me tapping my proverbial fingers wanting to use it.

A friend of mine had her second accident within the space of a week, running around town trying to get things done while her kids were being looked after elsewhere. I can relate, I always have a reserve list of things I’d like to get done if the kids are otherwise occupied. Often though, less is more.

Yesterday was a classic example of over-effort. With the kids at home and wrapped up in their own world happily occupied, instead of just being I was busy doing. There were groceries to put away, two loads of washing to do and invoices for my partner’s business; just the usual day to day stuff. But I also wanted to get the pool up for the rest of the summer months.

When it came time to cook dinner, I could hardly stand in the kitchen as my back kept going into spasms and my head was throbbing; I’d totally overdone things. Then, after supper, we took the kids for a drive to a nearby neighbourhod where a whole street has gone out of their way to decorate the gardens and houses for the festive season.

While it was exciting for the kids, it was busy and noisy, and the flashing lights did nothing to help that headache I’d developed. Instead of ease I seemed to have opted for every opposite choice I could have possibly made.

Today I resolved to do better and, although I had the linen cupboard in my sights for a clean up, I opted to do something for myself instead. At first I did my daily meditation, and fell asleep. Then, as I scanned through some of the enlightening and uplifting videos I like to watch, after a while that all felt like too much effort as well; so I just closed my eyes and fell asleep again.

The kids are on holiday for the whole summer. When they are at school I usually think of that as my moments of solitude which I use for contemplation, personal growth and writing. When they are at home, because they need my attention, I think of that as the time I catch up on projects around the house or garden while they play. This summer I think I’ll just cast aside my M.O. and play too.

I created a bubble around this first week with no plans so the kids can defrag, but now I know I desperately need to do that too. The rest of the holidays are more social, with several sets of visitors coming and two short trips in the pipeline, all quite fun in light of the freedom from the binds of our usual routine.

So really it’s the perfect time to embrace that inner child of mine and learn what ease feels like again; more importantly, to rediscover a sense of joy. I’ve realised that in running around being busy, I could actually miss the main event – my best life, the one I came to live.

Can you imagine your world with more ease and joy in it? What about the people around you?

So let’s do less and be more, let’s ease in 2019 together.

​If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

The art of putting yourself first sometimes means saying “No”, and sometimes it means facing fears and saying “Yes”. To discover more, read on...

​Published in Soul Analyse

A better sense of self-awareness brings its own reward. Swiftly shifting your attention to what you have accomplished in the past year awakens your can-do attitude and gets you back in touch with your innate ability to make things happen in the year to come. But you need to prioritize self-care first. Read more here.

Published in HavingTime.com

A friend was asking me the other day about whether I thought her partner’s negativity was holding her back. These are thoughts I’ve succumbed to myself, many a time, thinking someone else was holding me back from my best life.

Feeling held back is – in itself – a negative experience. There are many guises of negativity, it can come in the form of doubts, rejection, disappointment, worry, irritation, impatience, anger, fear, hatred, abandonment, shame, anxiety, despair or depression – and many things in between.

I often catch myself thinking that being the hands-on parent in our family is holding me back. I’m the one who takes responsibility for the day to day care of my kids, the relationship with their school and any other activities we get involved in.

I was talking to another parent the other day who does some amazing craftwork. We were talking about that feeling of putting your own self on hold as we bring young children into the world. There is an inner nudge we can feel from our creative flow wanting to express itself, meanwhile we are caught up washing dishes or some other drudge.

Yet when I really challenge myself on that line of thinking, its tosh. Sure, I’m not a person who thrives on doing housework, but I am the best person to look after my kids. I’m insightful about what they need and thoughtful about what we do, even if that means bucking the system at times.

It’s not a one way street either, far from it. It was my daughter’s birthday the other day and I was reflecting on how my life had changed since I gave birth to her. The changes are monumental and all for the better. This parenting gig may be one intense ride but I’ve travelled light years towards my own authenticity; for that I am hugely grateful.

In my friend’s case, she has been focused on catching her own negative thinking and trying to be grateful for all she has in her life, trusting that the ‘more’ she wants will unfold when its ready to. Meanwhile her partner is focused on (what he sees as) the realities of life; the market; their bank balance, how much is earned, that sort of thing.

It is not uncommon to be out of sync with at least some (if not most) of the people in our life as we grow and change, especially when conscious awareness of old habits is arising. When I started on my own journey to me, my partner was similarly focused on life’s practicalities. I’ve found it’s better not to fuel the negativity by pointing it out.

In fact, being grateful for what you have and trusting the future will unfold as its meant to can frustrate the heck out of someone else who is looking at the bank balance; I know as that has been me at times and it can feel like denial. Perhaps it’s better just to be grateful and trusting without trying to force the same approach on someone else who isn’t ready for it.

One thing I have found works well, though, is to dream together. My partner and I can often be at different places on journey, but when we dream together we find common ground. What sort of house would we ideally like to live in, where would we ideally like to live, what education or lifestyle would be ideal for our kids, where we would like to take our kids on holiday, what would we each ideally like to do with our lives, and so on.

But I do understand where my friend was coming from. I’ve often felt others (such as parents, partners, children, friends, bosses, colleagues; the list is endless) are holding me back.

I find it particularly interesting when I observe negative emotions coming from someone under the pretext of having my best interests at heart, especially when they genuinely think they do have my best interests at heart.

Again I’ve been guilty of this myself many times, but it’s really more about how I feel about what they are wanting or doing, which is simply an opinion. We each are our own best judge about what’s best for us.

Someone else was telling me this week about a person who is being abusive towards them. They had determined to ignore further attempts to draw them in (thus not fuelling the negative), focusing instead on the life they want to create for themselves.

This made me reflect on the many wasted hours I have spent fuelling arguments and conflict in my own life in a bid to convince another person to see my point of view. It would have been far better – and less painful – to not get drawn in; ignore the bait and focus, instead, on the things I do want.  

I’ve come to realise that life is a mirror, so if someone else’s opinions or actions are upsetting me I know the situation is reflecting something back that I need to learn in order to move on; often that lesson is about my own self worth.

Regardless of the circumstances I have found myself in, the answer is always the same, focusing blame on another person just isn’t helpful. That is not to say that I condone any form of abuse (be it emotional or physical). But I know that, whatever I’m experiencing, by putting me first everything else will fall into place.

This is easier said than done, especially with my empathic tendencies. How I make other people feel is something I really notice and care about. I’ve also become aware it’s something I can lose clarity on when I’m under stress; I can be hard on myself and hear or see things that others never even thought or felt.  

It can be quite tricky to see what’s going on in your specific situation unless you can stand back and take an objective look at it. Regularly taking time to become aware of your thoughts and feelings (conscious awareness) helps with this. Talking to someone who isn’t embroiled in your day to day life, and who understand and supports your objectives can also help immensely.

But the best tool I’ve found to date, is to become inquisitive about everything. Be interested in what life is pointing to, undoubtedly there are always clues to your best life right in front of your eyes. Question not who is holding you back, but in what way are you holding yourself back? That is the key to your best life.

If you liked this article you might like How Would Life Be Different if You Believed in Yourself?, Put Money in its Place, What Do the People in Your Life Have to Teach (Good and Bad)?, Why Resenting Your Parents is Healthy, Why Does She Stay? … and What Makes You So Different?, or Great Relationships Happen When You Put You First

If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Just like any goal, living your best life – or riding a wave - requires focus and perseverance. At first you might find yourself back in the murky waters now and again, but keep practicing and soon you too will be riding the waves of your best life... Read more

​Published in Having Time

“If a child lives with criticism he learns to condemn, if a child lives with hostility he learns to fight….if a child lives with encouragement he learns confidence, if a child lives with praise he learns to appreciate…” from the poem Children Learn What They Live  by Dorothy Law Nolte

Browsing through a local gift shop in my late teens, I purchased a little pocket card with this poem on it. At some point I attached it to magnet and it’s been a permanent fixture on my fridge ever since.

This week I shared the little card with a friend when we were talking about three things that feed love – attention, appreciation and affection. I had been observing how confronting I often find initiating the latter two, particularly when I’m dealing with adults. In the spirit of Dorothy Law Nolte’s poem, it’s easy to see these as shadows of my childhood.

Shadows are the things we don’t feel good about, the things we shy away from. But by shining a light into the shadows, we often find there is nothing there to be afraid of anymore, it frees us up to uncover and embrace our authentic selves.  

For example, having been brought up in a culture known for its stoicism, it’s no surprise to me that I struggle with initiating appreciation and affection. As I’ve gotten older I’ve become good at picking up on others’ cues, if I meet people who are appreciative or affectionate, it is easier to return this. Otherwise I tend not to even think about it.

After reading the Dorothy Law Nolte poem, my friend flicked me a pointed quote by Ken Keyes Jr in return:

“You are not responsible for the programming you picked up in childhood. However, as an adult, you are one hundred percent responsible for fixing it.”

She asked for my thoughts and I’m wholeheartedly with Mr Keyes on this point. What I wanted to explore was where I am on my journey with appreciation and affection and what – if anything – I wanted to fix. 

While I’ve gone a long way to breaking bad habits, I’ve probably not yet embraced some of these healthier ones. Just because I’ve stopped being as critical in my life doesn’t mean I’ve embraced the art of appreciation and just because I recognise I’m not physically expressive doesn’t mean I’m suddenly hugging everyone I meet.

I was reading an article recently on why someone hated shows of affection and had no desire to overcome it. They were quite adamant there was no childhood trauma; one parent in particular had been quite demonstrative in the hug department. I could understand their perspective and, of course, it’s their choice whether they want to work on becoming more affectionate.

I personally feel if an issue has made itself aware to us, then there’s something about it we need to learn – even if that is simply self love and acceptance so we can drop the defence.

I shared with the writer that I also had a huggie parent, the problem wasn’t the lack of hugs I’d been offered. In retrospect I think it was the sense of hypocrisy I felt between affection and judgments and expectations about my behaviour (and, thus, lack of acceptance of the real me) that repelled me. This is, of course, what most of us call a normal childhood and why we tend to have shadows as a result.

While I’m generally quite adept at reciprocating affection these days, I do acknowledge there are times where I just need to withdraw within and recharge. Generally speaking that is about honouring my authentic self and needs. Knowing that, overall I’m now pretty comfortable with the levels of affection I share with others,

Appreciation though is a different matter. I remember – back in my management training days – hearing someone say “catch them doing it right.” While that resonated, it has also made me aware that I have high expectations of myself and – by extension – others.

Yet how can I expect someone to enjoy doing something for me if I take it for granted and don’t appreciate it?
And how can I expect someone else to appreciate me for a task I don’t even appreciate doing?

For example, I pursued my quest to start a family with relentless determination but often feel trapped in the day to day grind of looking after them and the household. The voice in my head sounds like I’m doing things under sufferance. Not surprisingly it sounds just like my mother’s, when I’d listen to her rant to herself, as I was growing up.

Looking at this through fresh lenses, I understand who my kids are and what they need in order to just be better than anyone else. That is what drives me as a parent, holding a space for them to be who they are. I’m not perfect, far from it, but I’m attentive and thoughtful in my role and that is what I need to appreciate in myself and my choices when I start to feel like I’ve trapped myself in some homemaking hell.

Rather than undertake these tasks with an attitude of resentment, a childhood shadow, I can consider them afresh and appreciate the deep commitment I have to honouring my needs and my children’s needs. After all, I’m unlikely to attract any appreciation if I’m mumbling and grumbling about something. If I can appreciate myself, it creates emotional space for me to appreciate the efforts of others also and vice versa. 

No matter how far I have come on the journey to me, there always seems to be something new to look at, shadows that still lurk. These days I look at them with interest and inquiry rather than fear or dread.

Dorothy Law Nolte says “If children live with honesty, they learn truthfulness”. And so as we each practice shining a light on the shadows of our childhood to take an honest look, we gain insight and confidence and take another step towards our own truth into a bright new world.

If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

I am not alone, I am the gift my ancestors gave to the world and, as such, I pick up the baton. If there are challenges to be overcome, I will overcome them. If there are old hurts to be healed, I will heal them. If there are lessons yet to be learned, I will learn them. If there are talents and gifts I have inherited, I will use them; I am the very extension of all who came before…

While I don’t know each of my ancestors’ individual stories, I feel them through my own experiences. There are some things that hurt more than others, some things that are more joyful than others, each perhaps on a similar path travelled by another part of me in a time gone by.

When the first physical trace of me appeared back towards the end of 1945, as an egg in the fetal version of my mum (who was developing in her own mother’s womb at the time), this physical piece of who I am was carrying a lot of emotional data about my maternal lineage.

Just as I said in Womanhood – A Story of Our Time, the emotions we feel are carried in each of the cells within our body, positive emotions fuel our wellbeing and negative emotions create dis-ease and disruption to our biological makeup if not dealt with in a healthy way.

So when that seed of who I am physically was joined with the rest of the genetic DNA required for me to take my human form - the successful one-in-a-(250) million sperm - almost twenty seven years later, it is easy to see that who I am is a veritable buffet of everything from my entire ancestral make up to my own life experiences.

Despite not knowing the specific stories of the vast majority of the people in my lineage, it is easy for me to imagine these and how they might affect my life now as I enjoy reading historical time-slip novels. These have two or more interconnected stories across varying timelines where the main character gets taken on a voyage of discovery that dives into challenges they are facing in the present day.

This brings to life the stories of the past and how they intertwine with the present. While fictional, there is no doubt they were almost certainly, at some point, bits of someone’s story. These stories are the kinds of stories we all descend from and they echo down the generations and affect us in ways we often sense but don’t fully understand.

I do know, though, that all my grandparents had experience of the Second World War; with one set of grandparents also alive during the First World War. Having heard some of the real stories, been to museums and specific battle sites, and having read many fictional stories that bring to life the details of that time, I can see how the things that affected their lives then ran through the veins of my parents in their respective upbringings and then got passed on to me.

It was a time when feelings were heavily suppressed and having basic rations was something to be grateful for. There was a sense of lack, not abundance, yet gratitude for the little that was had. There was so much trauma at that time, and yet there was also beauty, many of our ideas are shaped even today by the experiences our ancestors had throughout that time not so long ago in our history.

I have a very definite sense that - despite life being very different for my grandparents then - they were all real people with wants, desires, hurts and tragedies.

Last year, before my mum died, she filled me in on parts of her own mother’s story. There was a lot of pain that continued on in mum, showing up as resentment towards others in her lineage for being the perpetrator or being too passive. Her own childhood experiences in that environment also inevitably shaped her values and beliefs about the world and, thus, her life experiences and the way I was raised.

Talking to another elderly member of my family about her childhood recently, I uncovered old hurts there too; events that happened over seventy years ago still fresh in her mind. I asked whether she had ever reconciled her issues, but they had never spoken about them, a common feature.

The things that happen to us early in our lives we sort of chalk up as history in our heads, feeling foolish to even mention or care about them. Yet they can weigh upon our hearts for eternity, shaping the very fabric of who we are and how we allow ourselves to interact with the world.

When we were asked to sink into our maternal and paternal lineage during a meditative part of a Family Constellations session I attended this week, facilitated by a good friend, the joy on my gran’s face as she birthed my father popped into my imagination. Perhaps she intuited her own father’s creativity (a father she hadn’t ever known) in the eyes of her youngest son, perhaps not, but her joy was evident in her creation.

I also imagined the same at the birth of my gran on the maternal side. The stoic great grandmother of the stories I had heard was somewhat softened by the birth of her baby girl that was named Joy. It was quite beautiful.

That we are each the gift that our ancestors gave the world was one of the many take outs I had from that session. When I mentioned what I was writing about to my friend she added “You embody all that was and all that is, you are your ancestors’ prayer for all that could be.”

That is quite something isn’t it? Here we are, the leading edge of all that has been, with opportunities to be aware of ourselves and love ourselves as never before. And if that is all each of us do, imagine what life would be like? What an amazing gift to the world.

If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog

“Be fluid” the osteopath said to me. Of course she was referring predominantly to my physiology, but I couldn’t help see the parallels across all levels of my being, and how that shows up in everyday life.

Unbeknown to me until recently, osteopaths are very concerned with how fluids flow throughout our bodies; through channels, across membranes and within open spaces. Should the flow of fluids stagnate our wellbeing diminishes.

As I was lying on the table during the consult, she asked me to take a minute and focus my thoughts elsewhere so I could get out of the way of my body. Often, as a patient lies on the osteopathic table and is trying to guess what the osteopath is doing (or is about to do), these very thoughts are inhibiting the flow of fluids that the osteopath is trying to assess.

I took the welcome respite from having to focus my attention on what another was saying and started to notice the noises in the room. It was a warm day and the windows were slightly open. I could hear the traffic going past on the road outside. Then I could hear the birds twittering away, seemingly oblivious to the encroachment of man’s modern world.

It made me think about the same sounds I’ve been hearing in my back garden while meditating recently. It’s late spring here in the southern hemisphere and nature has come alive all around. The birds and their melody will soon be surpassed by the pulsating symphony of cicadas as the weather gets warmer, but for now it’s the bird’s chips and chirrups that reach my ears all day long – should I wish to tune in.

Another thing the osteopath said that captured my interest was how attentive I was with my daughter (who she had also treated recently). Having just spent another 4-day weekend with the kids due to a teacher development day and a strike, and having had visitors over that time, I was feeling rather depleted and in need of alone time.

I mulled over this word attentive, rolling it around in my mind, in a similar way to sucking on a delicious candy. Contemplation is one of my favourite pastimes; I love going down the rabbit hole with just one or two words that pique my interest.

So I thought about this word attentive. It indicates presence, which I have been deliberately focused on these last few years. In fact, I should probably take a moment to just absorb the fact that I am less prone these days to fretting over the past or future, the thoughts in my head often relate to the present moment, which is a good thing.

That said, I am not exempt from cogitating the burgeoning to-do list in my head in any given moment; especially when I am at home with the kids. The process of running a household, supporting a business and looking after two young children is often a juggling act of crazy proportions. However, I know I am not alone  in that, we each generally have responsibilities that require our attention many times in each day.

So as I circled back to this issue of being fluid, I wondered, how can I go with my own flow when I’m feeling pulled this way and that so often? I thought about what being fluid really means, and – given these apparently encroaching responsibilities I have chosen – how do I define flow?

There is a verse in the Teo Te Ching, ascribed to Lao Tzu, which resonates “Nothing in the world is as soft and yielding as water. Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible, nothing can surpass it. The soft overcomes the hard, the gentle overcomes the rigid.”

It brings to mind a picture of flowing around obstacles rather than pushing against them.

For example, yesterday I had an opportunity to go with the flow or push against it. I went to pick up the kids from school. Generally I park at one end, walk to the other to pick up my youngest first, then collect my other daughter on the way back down to the car. As a rule, I usually like to get home as soon as possible; it’s the time of day the kids need to unwind, and I need to make dinner and such forth.

So when I had walked from one end to the other and back again, my eldest daughter asked if we could walk back up to the other end of school to collect “something I left there earlier”.

I groaned inwardly, my flow was taking me to the car, now I could see an obstacle. It quickly became apparent that her desire to go get this valuable item (that she described as “a yellowish-green thing that sparkles”) was higher than my desire to rush home. To make her go home without collecting this item would have created a virtual dam in the flow, especially since her sister also seemed quite intent on the idea.

So off we went, picking our way up through the school grounds again until we came to the forest where she retrieved her treasure (a dislodged bamboo shoot). It was actually quite a pleasant walk once I’d surrendered to the diverted flow. The weather was beautiful, the kids enjoyed reconnecting and sharing the various things they’d discovered that day, and I enjoyed watching them and being with them.

We got home a half hour later than usual, but there was nothing else pressing, and we managed our after-school routine quite well.

This is not me saying we should do whatever our kids want for an easy life. As an adult, we have a greater perspective than they do. They see only their path on the river, their singular desires and focus, whereas we are able to take in a wider view and assess where these paths may converge.

It also means there is no need to do whatever my partner, parents, peers, or anyone else, wants me to do if it goes against my own flow of wellbeing. I now look for the win-win answers in each seeming obstacle, seeking the path that allows me to remain fluid. Sometimes that may mean I need to body swerve a path that seems easier to take in the short run, in order to stay on the better path for me in the long run.

For example, this last weekend was the school’s annual fair. Rather than be herded into the path that involved the onerous task of organizing the fair, along with most of the other parents in my eldest daughter’s class, I quite deliberately opted to take another path. I knew the first would be my undoing, so I put my own welfare above the pull to fit in and seem helpful.

We contributed to the school’s fair in other ways; my partner made more than 70 bars of his famous fudge and he and his mum both helped to run the coffee and cake stall for a good chunk of the morning while I looked after the kids among the thronging masses who had descended upon the school grounds.

This pales into comparison to what some of the other parent’s contributed, but to do more would have been inauthentic for me. My energy fills up from inward reflection and contemplation, or meaningful one on one time with people, rather than broader social contact. On balance, I’d rather teach my kids by my own example to be who they are than to sacrifice in order to fit with the herd.

As I was listening to the birdsong the other evening after dinner, I was struck again by how completely oblivious the birds seem to our human din. My youngest daughter, who is rather vocal, was upset with her sister. The cacophony that ensued made not the slightest difference to the bird song; they just kept right on tweeting and chirping to one another.

It reminded me of a story I’d recently heard about the fighting in the fields of France back in the Great War. With death and destruction all around, in the midst of mayhem, a soldier became transfixed by a butterfly that fluttered above where he was lying in the field; struck by the beauty and carefree oddity amid his own personal hell.

Nature pays little heed to us; it goes with the flow quite nicely, tuned to its own wellbeing. In contrast, I still spend far too much time tuned into other people, or the thoughts in my head that are regurgitating the past or anticipating the future.

Casting the shroud of who I should be versus who I am is a process. I can’t suddenly be okay with different ways of being in the world without recalling the old beliefs and judgments I had about them. But the more I learn how to go with my own flow, the less resistance I feel in my path.

In addition to taking 15 minutes in each day to do nothing other than observe my thoughts and let them go (meditation), I now stop as often as I remember to just tune into the natural sounds around me. This allows me to tune into the flow of life that is always there, the wellbeing, and reminds me to be fluid.

If you enjoyed reading this you may enjoy Win-Win-Win Giving, Do What Fuels You – And Dump the Rest or Meditation – the Cornerstone to Your Success.

​If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.
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While there are not many of us that would dispute the benefits of being fit and healthy, how many of us incorporate regular exercise into our lives? And perhaps the more pertinent question is why?

When I left the corporate arena nearly four years ago, I had been working in a highly stressful, sedentary environment for over two decades. The contradiction in that is well understood from a health perspective.  Stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline coursing through us are great if a high level of physical exertion is involved, but if theses have nowhere to go, the effects are quite damaging.

But with a baby and toddler at home, there was barely time to make sure we were all fed never mind thinking about regular exercise, I made do with the mad dash from the ferry terminal to the office each day.

To be honest though, physical exercise has not been high on my agenda for a long time. In fact, it’s been about thirty years since I really took it seriously. There have been moments in there where I played at it for a while, but nothing stuck for the long haul.

When I first left the office environment my priority was to figure out who I am, from the inside out. I stopped having massages for tense, aching muscles, I stopped going to the osteopath for treatments and I avoided any kind of painkillers or other medication. I wanted to get a sense of the real picture.

And over the last few years as I started to write and get clarity about what is authentic versus what I’d adopted through misguided beliefs, I have also started to get clearer about the role our physical body plays. It’s usually the last aspect of our being to reflect our inner state and intention.

Although I consider myself to be generally quite healthy, there are some aches and pains and annoying minor (yet chronic) conditions that have crept in over the years. I guess I could say my body has become stagnant and, like any body of stagnant water, that creates an unhealthy environment for my wellbeing.

Recently I had to take my daughter to the osteopath, and I felt an intuitive nudge to book in for an assessment myself. I figured that, after all the inner work I’ve done, and all the insights I’ve gained, it’s now time to do some work on a physical level.

This has been neatly spurred on by labouring in the garden lately. While it’s been gratifying, by the end of each day my physical body is hobbling around with a back that keeps getting thrown into spasms. It’s definitely time to get moving.

Growing up I tried out several sports: I did gymnastics for a while, swimming, board diving and even cross country running. Then I got more serious about swimming and, before I knew it, I was training for over an hour in the pool every morning before school and then every evening before bed, in addition to the weight and gym training that supplemented it.

After five years of dedication to that way of life, I felt I’d swum all the miles and I’d done all the training I ever wanted to do and have hardly been near a pool or gym since.

There were other sports I tried briefly: mountain biking, climbing, orienteering and hiking, but nothing really stuck. Life got in the way and I spent years of working in desk-bound jobs. So it wasn’t until my mid thirties - after a number of failed pregnancies – I decided to take my fitness seriously again.

I employed a personal trainer and my core muscles screamed in indignation at the drastic reintroduction to being worked out again; it was not an enjoyable experience. I really hate doing repetitions unless they relate more to something meditative rather than excruciating.

If I compare repetitions in a pool to repetitions in a gym, I definitely prefer the feeling of my lungs being expanded and strengthened, as I take a breath in between strokes, than the feeling that my head wants to explode from the way my body responds to squats or pushups.

Yet I still didn’t feel compelled back to the water, though I may have if there had been a decent pool locally. Instead I found yoga. Of course there are many forms of yoga, ranging from the more strenuous, repetitious types that remind me of squats at the gym, to the forms that hold poses for extended periods; I prefer the latter.

The yoga I do is great for stretching out the connective tissues and maintaining flexibility in the joints. So while I had found something that, like meditation, serves my wellbeing and has now been integrated into my life over an extended period, it still doesn’t get my body moving.

When I was at the Osteopath’s for the assessment and she said “what do you do to raise your physical vibration?” I responded meekly that I take a few walks on the beach and a do a physically low key yoga session each week.

Her reply was well aimed:  ” I think your body would really appreciate an opportunity to move, to let each cell breathe and increase its vitality.” That made a lot of sense of course.

We talked then about the options, and I divulged that I had been thinking about taking up swimming again for a while, I just hadn’t yet felt compelled to act. “I think even after just one session in the pool we will see a difference” she said. So right there was my nudge to action.

No longer am I getting in a pool to train for anything competitive, it’s about giving this physical body a chance to move and to replenish itself; to flush out the old and bring in the new. It seems fitting at a time where I feel poised for action on my journey, to get moving: I just have to get moving.

Like anything in life, the signposts appear when we are ready to see them. If you’ve been drawn to read this, it may mean that you also needed a bit of a nudge towards physical exercise beyond it is good for you.

Frankly, our soul’s journey in this realm is experienced through our physical body, so if we want to live in it long enough to feel satisfied that we’ve made a difference, we really need to pay as much attention to that level of our wellbeing as any other.

If what you read here resonates, you might enjoy reading:
When Did We Become So Oblivious to What Our Bodies Are Really Telling Us?
What is Your Body Telling You?
Is More Leisure the Antidote?
If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

It's easy to get distracted by everyone else's opinions and ideas about how you should live your life, but you're the only one who knows what's best for you. Click here for the full article on Tiny Buddha.

Life pulls you in different directions. The spoken and unspoken rules of our society can quickly create many layers around our self-concept, and it can be easy to lose our sense of who we really are. ​Click here to read the full article on Having Time.

My story as a woman begins so long ago I have no conscious memory of it; it is the story that all women descend from, and echoes down the generations. The story starts in my grandmother’s womb, as my mother was conceived and the egg that would one day become me was formed within her…

“Let’s dive into this together and see if we can figure it out” I said to two of my girl friends.

For over three years now I’ve been regularly experiencing all sorts of cyclical symptoms, in fact it’s fair to say, it’s not been a good experience right from the first menstrual cycle I had over three decades ago. But I want to try and create a shift in my thinking and feelings about it and have a good experience with this aspect of my womanhood before these cycles cease altogether.

And I did indeed manage to achieve a new perspective, in our few hours that we took time out of our busy lives to explore this often taboo topic. The nature in which it is dealt with in our society, often in secretive discussions (from which men are largely excluded), has been insidious in its effects. Effects I want to stop at me rather than pass on to my daughters, or at least take the momentum out of them.

Over the years, after hearing many people’s stories and learning much from anthropological accounts of the female journey through womanhood, I have come to the conclusion it is an aspect of us that is intended to be held in reverence and to be embraced, rather than held in resistance and distaste. It is not an aspect of us that it intended to induce pain, or shame.

One of my friends led the discussion, moving me backwards and forwards and remaining focused on taking the powerful insights and reflecting them back to elicit further insights, it was quite a journey and she was very skilled at it. It’s a story I believe many will relate to and can have powerful healing effects for future generations.

The emotions we feel are carried in each of the cells within our body, positive emotions fuel our wellbeing and negative emotions create dis-ease and disruption to our biological makeup if not dealt with in a healthy way. Our tendency to suppress our emotions is learned early in childhood and, therefore, we are a veritable hotch-potch of everything from our ancestral make up to our own life experiences.

My great grandmother had, by all accounts, been a force to be reckoned with. She was a woman of the Victorian era, a teacher with a strong sense of morality. My mum once told me that she and my aunt used to go to her grandmother’s house every day after school (my gran – by then – was a single mother and worked) and they thought everyone’s grandmother taught extra lessons. But of her biology and feelings I know nothing.

My maternal grandmother was, by contrast, an unassuming woman. She was born at the start of the twentieth century and had just one older brother, of whom she was very fond. While I was well acquainted with my gran, she lived to enjoy her centennial celebration and many great grandchildren, she spoke very little of her own life and her feelings towards it.

Yet there are some defining moments of her life that I have come to know, mainly through my mum. I know that despite my gran’s apparent passive nature in contrast to her mother’s assertive one, it is likely there was a strong determination that lay beneath. Struck by illness and a long convalescence in her school years, she managed to persuade her parents towards the school she really wanted to attend all along.

My gran married young, the inference was that this was an act of rebellion, and had three sons to a man who would eventually walk out one day to get a loaf of bread and never return. One of my uncles saw him once in the years afterwards, at a football match, when he got given a coin. Needless to say, a divorce was had.

Her second marriage was one of deceit as well, her husband pretending to be many years younger than he was. They were married just before the end of the Second World War and had two girls together; he died when my mum was only seven.

This was, apparently, a blessing as my mum was not as passive as her mother. Mum can recall sitting on the floor drawing a picture and hearing a loud crack behind her as my gran went from one side of her peripheral vision to the other in an instant.

My grandfather was an aggressive alcoholic, and lung cancer was squeezing the very life from his body; gran had just entered her fifties when he died. It was the context though in which my mum had been conceived and in which the first physical traces of me – the egg from which I was later formed – were created.

However, this was not my gran’s last insult. A few years later when her parents died and – despite being a widow with two young children to look after (by then her boys, my uncles (who were much older), had begun to make their own way in the world), it was gran’s older brother (who was married with no children) who inherited the estate.

This was life for women back then, there were social customs and laws that limited their choices. Much has changed but, as my friend pointed out, it is only in recent years that domestic violence has become socially unacceptable, she recalls the campaigns of the 1980’s to raise the profile of this issue.

Life for women has changed enormously in my own lifetime, but not as much as it changed for my gran in her lifetime. To have been born into a highly restrictive era for women and yet have lived the last fifty years of her life quietly, and so entirely on her own terms, watching future generations being born into an ever-evolving society must have been quite something.

And yet still we bleed metaphorically and physically in ways that are quite foreign to that of our design. I recall my mum being whisked into hospital for blood transfusions and finally a hysterectomy as she literally bled out in her late forties. This seems to be a common crescendo to the reproductive years for many women, accompanied by years of mood swings, hot flashes and many other debilitating symptoms.

For my own part, I recall the introduction to my reproductive years vividly. Being a competitive swimmer, and training twice daily in the pool, it was not an option to ‘sit out’ for a week each month. I found that in order to use suitable sanitary products required a surgical removal of my hymen. Being admitted to hospital for an operation ‘down there’ at age twelve was embarrassing to say the least.

Then there were the cyclical physical symptoms, the dull aching feeling in my lower back that signaled the beginnings of some pretty acute and incapacitating cramping if there were no Askit powders to hand. I remember mum introducing me to Askit (a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug that tasted fowl as it had to be mixed in water and drank), her drug of choice for the same symptoms.

In later years I used Mefenamic Acid for the same reason, as it had the good grace to be encapsulated and was easier to swallow. But the pain was severe even in my thirties, before I had given birth. I can remember one night, around midnight, crawling around the floor in our lounge just trying to ease the pain. Then of course I was up and out for work the next morning.

I used to think I am someone who is sensitive to pain, but a midwife set me straight on that when I delivered my second child. In deliberating whether to give me a local anesthetic before ‘sewing me up’ she told her assistant “no, go ahead, this one has a high threshold for pain.” Mind you, by then I’d had a lot of practice.

Menstruation was also the beginning of migraines. Walking to school one morning, I rounded the corner past some neighbours houses and noticed I had little lights dancing across my field of vision. By the time I’d gotten to school and started the first lesson of the day (it was home economics and we were making an apple pie), I hadn’t got past peeling the apples before I felt unable to keep my eyes open. The pain in my head was one-sided and quite excruciating and I felt totally nauseous.

Someone at the school had to call my mum to come and pick me up. The pain had gotten so bad by the time she arrived that I was literally lying curled up on the floor of the school hallway and only vaguely remember dozens of kids running past as the school bell rang signaling playtime. I was lost in my own haze and have no idea how I walked home.

Then there is the issue of blood flow for women. I remember when I started working at my first ‘real’ job after university; I’d worked there on a secondment during my postgraduate diploma and was quite familiar with the staff in the Human Resources department. The organisation had just employed a new Training Manager and she was quite a character.

What I remember is her arrival one morning after her hour’s bus ride to work. She rushed straight to the loo and then afterwards, in the office with the door closed, she went on to explain to the little gaggle of us women who worked there that she had really heavy clotting and had to go home again.

I was quite taken aback that a woman could experience (as a matter of course) such hemorrhaging that there was no sanitary product that could allow her to go about her normal day. And, unlike the menopausal women I mentioned earlier, the Training Manager was not an older lady; she was actually quite young and only recently married.

A friend told me of her experience when she started her own reproductive years. Her cycles were irregular and painful and – as a young teen – someone advised her sit on the ground against a tree in the moonlight, next time she was menstruating, and let herself bleed into the earth. With nothing to lose she did just that for a couple of nights.

While she doesn’t know why that worked, within three months her cycles evened out and she has never had any issues since (she is now in her forties). Perhaps it has something to do with recalibrating with nature’s natural rhythms and flow.

If menstruation has had its issues, then pregnancy and birth took everything to a whole new level. My children are pregnancies five and six, each one before was a ‘blighted embryo’ – a condition I was told that was usually a one-off occurrence.

After having had surgery to remove the first empty sac, the second time around I decided that – rather than undergo another general anesthesia and surgery – I would take an alternate (debatably more natural) route to evacuating the empty sac. That time I was sat in a ward with several others all undergoing the same process, given a drug called Misoprostal and a metal tub to collect the ‘evacuations’ in and told it would just feel a bit like period cramps.

Pretty horrific is my succinct description of that process. Having already described the pain of a normal cycle, you might imagine that pain as nothing compared to the pain kick-started by Misoprostal. There was no sedate lying in bed, I ended up locking myself in the ward toilet and – on all fours – stayed there in my own vortex of pain, contraction after contraction, until the sac was passed.

Suffice to say, by blighted embryo’s three and four, I opted again for unconscious surgical removal of the empty sac. But these failed pregnancies were not, of course, just about process of physical recovery. While I was philosophical, each pregnancy had carried its own hopes and dreams; most had a name and a bond created within.

After finally managing to successfully conceive in my late thirties (a whole other story on its own), throughout the early stages of pregnancy I had weekly scans. If every emotion we feel is felt in our very cells, you can imagine the stress on that young embryo as I contended with the constant stress of maintaining the pregnancy. It is no surprise my first child displays quite an anxious personality at times.

My first experience of labour took physical pain and exhaustion to yet another new level. After a day of early labour pains and then over twenty two hours of labouring, with not much progress, I finally looked at the midwife and told her I wanted an epidural.

She called for an ambulance to take me from the maternity centre to the hospital, as that is where epidurals were done. Unfortunately it was a Saturday evening and the ambulances were busy so, in the end, it took three hours before I was transferred to the ambulance for the fifteen minute journey.

Having made the decision to seek pain relief, as time ticked on I got more and more frantic. By the time I was loaded into the ambulance, I screamed murder every time we had to cross over a speed bump in the road. I remember finally arriving in a theatre to await the anesthetist, and I could hear the midwife talking to him on the phone obviously debating the need for urgent attention as he was being called to another operation.

I cannot remember the words I yelled, but they obviously sealed the deal as the anesthetist promptly arrived and the epidural was at last dispensed. My daughter was born twelve hours later by ventouse. It was a long night.

My second pregnancy was a bit more relaxed and, for the birth, the midwife had agreed to admit me to the hospital straight away given the horrific ordeal of the first birth. I had decided to try and deliver naturally, but did not want to rely upon an ambulance if I wanted pain relief.

As it turned out the second labour progressed much more quickly than the first and, by the time the midwife arrived, she felt the hospital was too far to travel. She did something for me then that helped me enormously, she grabbed my hips and showed me how to move with the pain rather than resist it.

Almost four hours later, feeling like I had finally mastered the art of labour, I heard the midwife comment to her assistant that they would need to get me to the hospital as the baby was going to rip me open (she had her hand above her head superman-style). This was all it took for my body to respond. With a final involuntary convulsive push she was out, and I needed sewn back together.

That was when the comment was made about my tolerance to pain. As I showered afterward, blood draining everywhere, I remember hearing someone delivering a baby in the next room. It was quite a shock to hear how harrowing it sounded from the outside. No doubt I’d made similar sounds, but from the inside I had withdrawn into a quite space.

I just remember thinking “I never have to do this again.”

And I contrast this with friends and other women who have had amazing experiences that – in comparison – were pain free. They have described their menstrual cycles and labours as ‘mild discomfort’. We are all different.

Sharing these experiences with my friends created a new perspective. There has clearly been trauma, mine from the moment I was an egg in my mother’s womb, and through my own life experiences since birth, and it has been played through this journey of womanhood.

As I talked about this journey, and about my other journey, the journey to a more authentic me, my friend pulled out some words I had used as I had shared: 

• the pain of loss (including my twin brothers who were born prematurely in the pregnancy before me and subsequently died), and the physical pain endured (not just by me, but the generations before);
• the shame felt in having my hymen removed, in unsuccessful pregnancies, and – ancestrally – in domestic violence and in abandonment;
• the reclamation of me, Shona Keachie; the process of evolving in my beliefs about me and the world;
• the feeling of safety to be able to talk about these things today;
• Trust in the way life works, in the bigger picture;
• The process of mastering pain;
• The process of shedding old wounds, old pains, in the journey to me;
• The desire to embrace my womb as a seat of feminine power.

As I look back now, I am in awe of each of the women in my lineage for all that they endured. I now live in an age and a society where being a woman need no longer be about sufferance and for that I am truly grateful.

Just prior to catching up with my girl friends I had watched the final episode of one of my favourite TV dramas, Nashville. At the end, Callie Khouri (the creator) had said “that’s a wrap”. That is how I felt about the chain of pain that has been created through my womanhood, it ends here. Each player has played our part, the show is over.

One of the most miraculous gifts we have been given is the power to create another life. The mechanics of all for women have been suppressed for so long, it was time to take a look in the darkness and see what lurked there.

And as always happens, when we shine a light in the dark, everything brightens. I feel the possibility for an entirely different future for my daughters, and for the daughters out there that are still playing their part in this chain of pain in societies and families where pain and suppression still occur.

After all the years hearing about feminism, embracing womanhood means something entirely different to me today. Rather than something in opposition to the masculine, or trying to compete with it.  embracing womanhood is about embracing reverence and joy, the very art of creation.

​If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

In the evenings, when I used to work in the corporate world, I’d get done with putting the kids to sleep and then responding to emails and it would be 10pm; time for bed. It would also be the point at which my partner would switch off the TV he had been watching and silence would surround me like a comfortable blanket at last.

Then there would be this feeling of having just missed something and a subtle, but persistent, energetic tug at my sleeve that was always present in that moment. I later learned (when some contemplation time opened up for me) that was my inner voice waiting to be heard; a voice which I now regularly focus in on through my writing.

This week I have been reminded of that time. It’s the school holidays here and I’ve had barely a moment to myself. This has coincided with the clocks moving forward, so getting things done in the evenings after the kids are in bed has been challenging. There has been a lot to do, with end of month reconciliation and returns for my partner’s business, as well as all the usual rounds of invoicing, quotes and endless housework and other chores.

While I’ve made it a priority to leave my partner in charge for fifteen minutes each evening while I lock myself in the spare room and meditate, I will admit I’ve been starting to get resentful about some of the tasks on my plate.

The word ‘resentful’ reminded me about last week’s blog Interdependence as Our Healthy State when I wrote:

Interdependence is the mutual giving and receiving of things that are enjoyed and valued. If you find yourself feeling resentful in anything you are regularly doing for someone else, and vice versa, then you are not in an interdependent relationship with them, you are in a co-dependent relationship. Giving something of yourself when you don’t want to, especially if it receives no appreciation, is the road to ruin.

This is because there is no love given or felt when it is done in resentment. So I decided to take a look at the many hats I wear in each day for more insight on those I am giving freely, versus those I can resent (at least at times). It was a worthwhile exercise, and one I’d recommend, listing everything I do and how I feel about each. It gave me a deeper understanding of what affects me negatively and positively.

It was no surprise that My Work - which is about growth and expansion into higher consciousness and sharing those insights with others - is what I truly love; it is what I literally live for. This and looking after my kids, my wellbeing and my relationships are the only things on the list I enjoy or care about. Everything else feels like I’m just churning the mill to be here and be part of society.

What came to light are the little areas that act as tipping points into wholly resenting tasks – one in particular is picking up after others, who are perfectly able to pick up after themselves, just so I can live in a reasonably clean and clutter-free space.

This gave me much needed perspective as, often when I’m feeling overwhelmed, it creates a black cloud over all the tasks I’m doing and the resentment becomes all-consuming.

While this was a practical and useful insight to gain, what had been particularly irking me this week, is the awareness that I have two others topics that are very activated for me right now and I am desperate to dive into and write more about them.

That little energetic tug on my sleeve I get when there is a thread that needs unpicked, and the butterflies in my tummy knowing there are more ‘ah ha’ moments to be had, keeps getting the ‘pause’ button pressed. I had begun to worry about how ‘cut-off I was from my own inner voice and broader perspective.

Yet I need not have worried. A friend had passed along a short guided meditation, not something I generally use. Most often I simply meditate in silence and focus on my breathing. However, this week my thoughts have been a bit too pervasive, so I thought I’d give the guided meditation a try.

It was a beautiful experience. At 10 o’clock at night, as exhausted as I was, I sat down in surrender and pressed play. It was silent and still and yet I imagined myself as this gigantic being standing amid the cosmos just watching as whole universes expanded and a light-show of amazing proportions played for my pleasure.

There were moments when I took my attention from the expanse of the cosmos and just zoomed in on the details: I saw a single daffodil dancing in the sunshine, and other beautiful but indescribable things on other planets.

In just a few minutes I had entered a state of serenity, wonder and peace. It was a great reminder that our authentic selves, the love within and the broader perspective are always present; it’s just a case of switching focus.

I realised time was not a problem; the fact I’ve had to press pause on some inspiration I want to unpick is okay. Just understanding what that little energetic tug on my sleeve is nowadays is a miracle in itself. And better, I have two days next week when both kids will be otherwise occupied and I can dive into these delicious topics that I want to explore. Nothing is lost and, inevitably, more depth will be found.

It can be too easy to lose ourselves in the everyday churn of life. But if you learn how to focus, you will be able to find yourself amid the mayhem and make time for the things that are truly important to you.

​If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.
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I was listening to a discussion about interdependence yesterday that got me intrigued. On one hand what I was hearing felt like it held some deep truths yet, on the face of it, seems in juxtaposition to the self-concept I hold of being independent. I love the kinds of challenges that expand and evolve my thoughts.

I have a friend who often calls my independent nature “the lone wolf”. She too was once a lone wolf, but circumstances have led to her relying on a bigger community of support than she might otherwise have sought.

While my desire for regular solitude, and repellant reaction to dependence, may seem like they add up a fierce independence, listening to this conversation about interdependence has now led me to conclude otherwise. The journey to me, my authentic self, has inevitably shifted me from independence to interdependence.

There is a part of me, for example, that thinks of myself as having ‘opted out’ of the kids’ school community, standing instead as the lone wolf. This is true on some levels; I have opted out of after-school activities, much of the socializing, and extra-curricular ‘volunteering’ for crafts and events. This, however, has more to do with the motives that previously drove me to participate, I had been putting my desire to ‘fit in’ and have others like me before my own health and wellbeing.

But now, from a place where I’ve put my own needs to function healthily first, I care more about the other members of the community. In fact I ‘see’ them more clearly now than I used to and am able to help in ways that benefit both me and them.

There was one mum that used to really trigger me emotionally. She is, in many respects, my very opposite – extremely active in the garden, kitchen and with outdoor activities generally. She is also a very active volunteer at the school, supporting crafting and events.

In the days when I used to feel ‘obliged’ to participate, she became a focal point of my subversive loathing.  Now that I have deliberately decoupled myself from the unhealthy desire to be liked for things I hate doing, my own needs are better met and I find myself much better able to perceive and acknowledge how she is really feeling – rather than try to create her as the villain in the scene who deserves whatever crappy thing is thrown her way.

And now, without the narrow focused lenses on, I can also see that – while in practice we may seem quite opposite in the things we enjoy doing – we clearly value many of the same things (like home-grown organic foods and sustainability). I recognise that much of her lifestyle – while perhaps not obviously of direct benefit to me – is lending to the creation of the kind of world I want to live in. That is pretty cool.

The premise of the discussion on interdependence that I was listening to, was– while many people have largely lost that ability to perceive not only how others feel, but often how we ourselves actually feel - we will need to, once again, become more emotionally intuitive in order for our race and the planet to thrive.

This makes sense from a spiritual perspective. If we all derive from - and are still connected to - the same source (a state of unity) then we are, effectively, already interconnected. None the less, as we invented things that created less physical reliance on our natural world and on each other, how other people were feeling became less important. People, like the planet’s resources, became commodities; objective rather than subjective. So our modern societies have evolved valuing intellect over intuition, independence over interdependence.

Just the other day my partner and I were discussing some trees that are growing on our property. There are two Phoenix Palms which were here when we bought the house a few years ago; planted on a verge that is possibly about 3 or 4 metres at the most from the house.

These trees were quite small when we arrived, but they have gotten rather large and can clump and grow up to 12 metres tall. Aside of the dangerous spikes that run along their leaf stalks, they are also extremely heavy trees as they hold a lot of water. So, should they ever fall, the house would most certainly be damaged.

There are quite a few trees on our property that were obviously not planted with their mature size in mind. I have found this to be quite common in the various places I’ve lived and visited. People seem to plant more with instant gratification in mind rather than the changing shape and form of their environment and the impacts of that, or plight of future residents or generations.

What is interesting about all of this is that the human intellect, by virtue of all its invention in the creation of independence, actually does care what people think but in a totally narcissistic and independent way. The intellect doesn’t care if the outcome is win-lose, so long as it is “I’ who wins.

This is in contrast to the more healthy approach of being aware of, and meeting, our own needs, which then allows us to help others in an interdependent way. This is an approach concerned with win-win.

We were born being able to decipher other’s moods and feelings, and because we were so reliant on our caretakers (usually parents) for our physical survival initially we had to care about how they felt. It’s because of this reliance on them emotionally and physically that we put so much faith in what they thought and believed, whether it resonated with us or not.

This is why we each ended up with so many layers of false beliefs about the world we were born into. This is how I came to hold a self concept, which perhaps many of you share, that it is more important to fit in than it is to even give my wellbeing a single thought.

To put our own wellbeing first is how each of us can begin on the road to interdependence. It is so much easier to love myself, and other people, regardless of where we each stand on this journey when I do it from a place of honouring my needs.

Interdependence is the mutual giving and receiving of things that are enjoyed and valued. If you find yourself feeling resentful in anything you are regularly doing for someone else, and vice versa, then you are not in an independent relationship with them, you are in a co-dependent relationship. Giving something of yourself when you don’t want to, especially if it receives no appreciation, is the road to ruin.

Interdependence doesn’t necessarily mean I do something for you, and you do something for me. It means we give and take based on what we feel good about giving.  There are times I find I’m in a position of giving more to certain people and receiving more from others.

For example, I have often looked after one of my daughter’s school friends because of her parents’ work schedule. It’s not that I love looking after kids as such, but this particular arrangement has suited us all well, my daughter and her friend play well together, so I feel it’s a win-win.

On the other hand, I can think of the many times a neighbor has helped me in times of need and – while we have been able to reciprocate on the odd occasion – the ‘receiving’ scales feel tipped in our favour; I just make sure to show my appreciation and help them when we can.

At the end of the day I can’t be everything to everyone and, even although in a survival situation I might get by without help from others, there are many things that others are much better at (and enjoy) than I am. And I feel able to receive these gifts from others much more freely than I did before I started to put my own wellbeing first.

It’s ironic, but being selfish is the road to our recovery. Interdependence is the ultimate healthy state of our society, but that begins with each of us accepting it as our own healthy state, and beginning to put our own wellbeing at the forefront of our actions. 

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Within each of us there are aspects of feminine and masculine, and what I’m about to share may initially sound somewhere between controversial at best and revolting at worst, but I think it is a bit of a litmus test that shows where we (as a society) are up to on this topic. It certainly revealed to me where I sat.

A while back a friend shared with me the idea that, instead of sanitary products, I should use a menstrual cup to collect blood and use it as a plant fertilizer. I think the phrase she used was “spray it around the house plants.”

My first reaction was “Eew!”

That was a reality check since blood is a common plant fertilizer, in fact a specially manufactured blood and bone mixture even sits in our garden shed as a standard stock item. So why was that my reaction to my own blood? Blood that is likely more healthful for my plants than that which we purchase.

Kate Morton sums it up quite well for me in one of her novels. There is a chapter where she recounts the memories of a 17-year-old girl on the beach with her family back in 1938. Her dad was trying to cajole her into a game of cricket on the beach and she didn’t want to play, so she said she had a headache coming on…

Headaches carried the whiff of ‘women’s business’ and Mr Smitham’s lips tightened with awe and distaste, He nodded, backing away slowly. ‘Rest up then, eh, don’t exert yourself-‘

This made me chuckle as it’s an attitude that most females today have experienced even if it is one they don’t carry themselves. I would have to be honest and admit it’s obviously become woven into the fabric of who I have become. Menstruation is a topic I’ve learned to discuss in hushed tones to a select few rather than revere it for its part in one of the most sacred and miraculous of all human creations – another human.

Despite a deliberate focus and journey to a more authentic me over the last few years, there are still so many of my beliefs about myself and the world that are left unchallenged and untouched, yet feeding into my life in ways unseen. Until someone challenges those beliefs…

I knew as soon as my friend suggested it we had unearthed a valuable insight; a real doozy actually.

This one lies at the door of the patriarchal age, a topic that I’m going to open up a bit more and explore. What is the patriarchy? Why am I seeing it referred to more and more often? Is this a women’s lib thing? Yes and no, it’s so much more, because it’s about all of us.

A patriarchy is a system of society or government in which men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it. Our societies have predominantly been patriarchal for thousands of years and it’s only now, having seen a huge rise in civil liberties for all in the last few decades, we are starting to uncover what that means for all of us.

While we are not yet where we need to be in terms of honouring each individual on this planet, we are shifting across the precipice of awareness. Having suppressed many of the feminine aspects in all of us, and having overplayed others for millenia, we are where we are, as I discussed in Porn – Good or Bad earlier in the year.

Back in the 1990’s I found it fascinating to read iconic books like: Men Are from Mars, Women are from Venus, by John Gray; His Needs Her Needs by Willard F Hartley; and, Why Men Don’t Listen and Women can’t read maps by Allan and Barbara Pease. It brought out the often unspoken different interests and priorities of men and women. 

However, as it turns out, these were not definitive guides to the roles and needs of men and women, more a marker of a point in time; the beginnings of awareness.

Donna Eden and Davis Feinstein talk about how the landscape between men and women is changing in their book, the Energies of Love. Looking at America through the eyes of historians and sociologists  gives us all some useful insights. Here are three eras they have defined in relation to marriage, a microcosm of the male-female dynamic:

• For the settlers there, until about 1850, affection and emotional intimacy were secondary to the basics of physical survival, such as food, shelter and protection.
• From 1850 to the mid-1960’s love, intimacy and a fulfilling sex life rose in importance within the dominant model of marriage. In 1939 when women were asked to rank eighteen qualities they’d want in a future husband, love was ranked fifth – economic support was still considered more important. By the 1950’s surveys revealed love to be climbing up the list.
• In the current era however, love has – to a great degree – become the mutual exploration of our infinitely rich, complex and exciting selves. The ability of a marriage to support each partner’s personal evolution has emerged as a pivotal dimension of marital satisfaction. 

Now, more than ever, the speed of change is accelerating. I have mentioned before the recent Australian drama, Puberty Blues, where actors played their teenage counterparts from the 1970’s and were asked to compare teenagers then to teenagers now. Being my own era as a child, I was very interested in their responses.

It was somewhat comforting to me to hear of the rise of what had traditionally been more feminine qualities within the males and vice versa. The girls today danced to the beat of their own drum, rather than swoon and do what the boys wanted of them. The boys were much more affectionate with each other, and there was less bravado. This is a changing landscape indeed.

It seems, more than any other, it is the emotional landscape that is changing, for both men and women alike. Emotions and intuition have been suppressed and pitched as weaknesses or even witchcraft for thousands of years.  I was just musing that the word ‘hunch’ probably came about in an attempt to masculinise and thus accept this most fundamental of human gifts.

It is this very talent for understanding how we feel about anything and everything and using it as a guide to our best life that holds the key to a more evolved, personally purposeful and fulfilling future.

While I’m not one for sensationalism or conspiracy theories in general, in fact I tend not to engage in any form of media, it does makes rational sense to me that the quashing of the more feminine traits was no accident, as it is the seat of true power. Instead the alluring power of ego has been played to and, as a result, the world is in a lesser state for it.

There is a theory that I rather like, that this has its roots in the priests of the ancient Egyptian civilizations (in a bid to outwit their creator) who became the puppeteers behind the pharaohs. I would suggest that even the most aware and idealistic of today’s world leaders find themselves to be largely puppets in their seat of power.

Regardless of the theories and the history, what I do know today is that my true power lies in my inner ability to know my own truths and to create the kind of world I want to live in.

I’ve become so attuned to my inner world that I forget there were days when I didn’t even know whether I was more naturally inclined to rational or intuitive thought. My ability to rationalise things always led others to conclude the former, but when I read Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking it gave me insight into and confidence in my ‘knowing’.

I suspect my ability to rationalise stems from having to defend and explain my ‘knowing’ to those around me as I grew up, rationalsing is really the process of bringing into conscious awareness what the broader part of you already intuitively knows.

But if you have to relearn how to listen to your intuition, there are some great pointers out there. I particularly like Sonia Choquette’s exercises that help with this, she has written many books and, most recently, did an online course on Your 3 Best Superpowers: Imagination, Meditation and Intuition.   

Our power is not ‘out there’ in the having, our power is ‘in here’ in the being. Learning to listen to that inner voice may be considered a feminine trait, but it’s one that we all have regardless of our gender. Learning to listen to that voice, and to discern whether the thoughts and beliefs of the mind-led you are serving you, is what we must learn to embrace in order to live our best life and evolve our world.

Learning to embrace and honour that which is uniquely feminine, well, that will come too. In light of such a swathe of conscious awareness, and in embracing the feminine aspects within all of us, how can it not?

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.
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While something remains safely tucked out of sight in my inner world, no one can poke fun and burst my bubble. It also means I feel no obligation to follow through. It’s safe, it’s just a dream.

But bring it out in the open and I know I will feel both vulnerable and compelled, compelled to somehow prove myself right.

I’ve often said I’m a bit envious of people who have always known their calling, as I sat around waiting on the thunderbolt. I’ve written articles about just following the yellow brick road, taking the next inspired step. And I stand by every word.

Yet, in the process of doing just that, I feel like the thunderbolt has suddenly and unexpectedly hit. I always thought I’d just keep following the yellow brick road and then, one day, I’d look back and it would seem so obvious. In a way, that is what has happened. I’m not ‘there’, I haven’t realised my dream, far from it, but I have clarity and can be more focused in pursuing it now.

As Henry David Thoreau said “I learned this, at least by experiment, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.”

And, as the cliché goes, it starts with a dream.

The thunderbolt came as it dawned on me that I do know where I’m headed. There were two things that I realised this week, two little ‘ah ha’ moments. The first is that I always have an opinion. You could ask me anything, literally, and it will always evoke a response in me. I now understand that is not what happens for everyone.

Ironically enough, it was my mum who used to always say “Shona knows everything” in a sarcastic tone (parents of most teenagers will know what I mean). I say ironically as I’m sure this trait of always having an opinion was inherited from mum. I remember years ago thinking I’d put together a book of mum’s opinions one day, it might be titled “Dog’s are Dirty” as she used to always comment “dog’s sniff bottoms and poo, then they come and lick your face.”

It makes me chuckle, even now.  Suffice to say, we never had dog in our house.

My opinions aren’t so much like that, they’re not fixed – quite the opposite in fact, my opinions are always evolving as I’m growing and learning. But, they arise in response to everything I hear none the less. When I say it invokes a response, sometimes it can be a slow burn, like when I was 18 years old and my boyfriend’s father (a physicist) said “how many dimensions do you think there are Shona?”

It’s a good question, he knew of ten for sure, which kind of blew my mind back then in the early 1990’s. Now I think there may be an infinite number of dimensions.

But I guess it’s why I’ve been so drawn to openly offer my perspective to people; you tell me your problems, I’ll have a response.

That said, it has taken years to get to a point of putting that out there. This is a good thing, for it is only now my perspective comes through a more authentic self who knows that it is not my opinion that counts, only whether it inspires something within you – because it is your opinion that counts when it comes to your life.

In the past, I may have been too attached to my opinion, too identified with it, for it to be given or received in an open way; in a way in where it could help point to your own inner truths and power.

The second thing to dawn this week is related to my dream of speaking to an audience. It’s something I’ve talked about now and then, but only having this vague sense of it as a possibility in the future.

The ‘ah ha’ moment came in the realization that it’s something I’m well prepared for, and that it could marry quite nicely with offering up my opinion to others who might have questions; a live interactive sort of a thing, perhaps starting in small groups.

Other than a momentary wobble in having to deliver a speech as a self-conscious spotty teenager in English Class, I’ve never really had qualms about my voice having an audience. As captain of the swim team, I used to lead the club chant to rally everyone at the start of a competition. One of the parents asked mum “What do you feed her? Raw Meat?”

As part of my postgraduate diploma I studied training delivery, which I then went on to do at various points in my corporate career. In my twenties I spent many years attending seminars where I’d listen and watch as successful business people and authors of self development and motivational books shared their stories and insights on stage.

All the while I’d be observing and critiquing their style, imagining how I would do it, inspired by their stories. I was learning and absorbing many details about the way a person would hold and project themselves from a stage, the dynamics and techniques that were powerful and those materials, colours and styles of dress that worked aesthetically.

I managed to get in some practice during my corporate life; designing and delivering leadership training, talking at corporate functions and even at several conferences (after winning some national awards in customer experience strategy many years ago).

But it has taken a while to get to a point of confidence about my latest subject matter, or the fact I even have one. It’s definitely grounded in personal change and transformation, but occasionally I project that out into visions of a more evolved world, or the more metaphysical aspects of our human potential.

I was just sharing this week that it took me 3 years of publishing my own blog to get comfortable enough to submit anything to a larger platform - Tiny Buddha. Meaning comfortable enough with my writing style, expertise and content that I wouldn’t feel dead in the water when an article got rejected, which is an inevitability.

I come from a background where people have ‘real jobs’, where pursuing a more creative career is so foreign that many of my loved ones are still waiting for me to ‘get back to the real world.’ But I haven’t been trying to figure out the next thing that will make me money, I’ve been trying to figure out the thing that I feel planted here on Earth to do, to be; the thing that will make my heart soar.

And of all the things I’ve learned in the last few years I’d have to say that the most important thing I’ve discovered is that we each have our own answers within us. To live that discovery to its fullest potential, and to help others to do the same, that feels important.

To be successful at anything, there are likely to be more rejections along the way or, more appropriately, re-directions as Dr Steve Maraboli says. To get to a point of delivering my perspective on a stage, interacting with an audience, there will be many moments to come that I can’t even fathom right now.

Of course I know of many routes that can lead there, but none of those have yet struck me as being on my yellow brick road. In fact, I have no idea what the next step even is, but I know I’ll be awake to the next intuitive nudge, serendipity or insight that gives me a clue.

Right now I’m just basking in this current step. A step from the mists of my imagination into words shared, a small step in the direction of realizing my dream, but a much larger step for the more vulnerable me inside.

But it was time, I could feel it.

Before I wrote this article, I had been talking about my dreams with someone I trust and respect. I said “If I were taking my own advice on this one, I'd say I know I will never be given a dream that is beyond my reach, follow the intuitive nudges and seek those who support your vision.”

So what about you? What is floating in your imagination that you have not yet spoken aloud? Listen to your inner voice, is it time to take a step forwards? I’d say that is very likely if you were drawn to this article.

Who do you know who could support your vision? If you are lucky there will be people in your life who will support you and believe in you. If not, you should seek them out. It’s not uncommon to face this situation, for our current lives are a reflection of yesterday’s dreams, and the players reflect that.

​Take a deep breath and a small step; go boldly in the direction of your dreams.

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

I vividly remember, back in my corporate days, a chiropractor asking me details about the symptoms I was having in my neck and back and when those symptoms were at their worst. I had no idea. I was so distracted and busy most of the time, I was only aware of the tension in a generalised area.

I remember the relationships that ended, with little awareness of the patterns of feelings and behaviours that point to a time long before the relationship began, rather than being ‘a fault’ of the person I was with. It took many repetitions of things unwanted before I finally looked in my own mirror to address what was going on.

This is the result of a past where, probably like most of you, I was taught to suppress how I feel. It set me up for a lifetime of guilt, frustration, resentment, anger, disappointment and, most importantly, a lack of self-awareness – until I became aware of it.

Today, if my neck or back is tense, I can pin down which vertebrae the pain stems from, which side I feel it on, where it then tracks throughout my body and when it feels worse or better. Today, whether things are going badly or well, the first place I usually look is in the mirror. Today I am more aware than ever of how my feelings and corresponding thoughts shape my life.

I was listening to Teal Swan talk about emotions; she was asserting that the most pervasive – and damaging – form of abuse is emotional.  And it’s not necessarily the type of abuse you might be thinking of, like emotional blackmail for example, it’s the chronic everyday abuse that occurs from having to suppress our emotions.

A typical example she gave of how this arises was of a child having a hissy fit over a candy bar that the parent had said “no” to at the store. Generally you might hear the parent telling the child how inappropriate their response is, especially since they may only have just eaten a candy bar.

Yet it’s that very act, of deeming any emotion as appropriate or inappropriate, good or bad, which is damaging. She wasn’t suggesting that the parent give in and get the candy bar, just that they acknowledge the emotion (maybe something like “I can understand how you must feel, at my age I’d probably have wanted the candy bar as badly as you do and I’d be feeling powerless and angry too.”)

It is about feeling the emotion rather than suppressing it.

This isn’t about parenting, although that is important, it’s about you and I; the inner child within us that experienced these scenarios. It is about recognizing the damage it caused to us, and creating awareness of the root of our self doubts, anxieties, fears, neurosis and even illness.

Let’s face it, I feel the way I feel, there is no conscious decision in that initial emotion, it just is what it is. By making certain emotions ‘bad’ it creates guilt. Worse, if it becomes about me, rather than just the way I’m feeling or acting, it creates shame. Shame is an emotion that is possibly the most harmful of all.
 
In the vast majority of cases much of the suppression of our emotions has come from well meaning people, our parents, who wanted to teach us how to fit in to our society. For thousands of years, displaying emotions has been seen as a weakness, yet we feel them in response to everything we are experiencing, including each thought and even in response to the energy of others’ emotions around us.

As pointed to by Donna Eden and David Feinstein in their book The Energies of Love, the electromagnetic field of the heart (which has sixty times the amplitude of the brain’s field) extends a number of feet beyond each of us, radiating in all directions. This field can transmit emotions.

As Donna and David discovered, the electromagnetic signals produced by your heart are registered in the brains of people around you. If two people are within conversational distance, fluctuations in the heart signal of one correspond with fluctuations in the brainwaves of the other.

Harold Burr, a neuroanatomist in the 1930’s, was the first to demonstrate each living thing is born with a completely unique energy structure that determines its physical growth through the electrical fields that surround it and electrical impulses that move through it. Burr was also able to distinguish electrical patterns that corresponded with health and illness.

In recent decades, more books have appeared that link symptoms of the varying illnesses we experience to very specific thought patterns stemming from the suppression of varying emotions.  My personal favourite is Lise Bourbeau’s book Your Body’s Telling You: Love Yourself.

For example, the common cold – symptomatic of congestion in your body – corresponds to the ‘congested’ thoughts in our head and feeling overwhelmed; trying to do too much at once or over-thinking things. But even the more serious and more deadly of illnesses has a corresponding emotional and thought pattern.

The ridiculous thing is that we are just beginning to open up to the enormously important role our emotions play in our life experiences. It is not yet common to encounter a medical practitioner who will take this approach with patients, which is far more relevant and helpful to a full recovery than anything else.

In fact, it is not yet common to find anyone in any traditional position of authority – be it a teacher in the classroom, or a policeman, a judge, or the politician making the laws, to understand the role emotions play, and the damage their suppression causes. To many this still sounds hocus.

This stems from millennia of patriarchal societies which have been rapidly eroding in recent decades as feminine traits are becoming more valued and empowered globally. The old systems are still hanging on in there, just. I suspect I will see many more changes in my own lifetime as the speed of change increases, I know I certainly hold a vision for a more evolved world than this one.

I believe that starts with each of us becoming consciously aware of what we are thinking and how we are feeling more of the time. Our emotions are our connection with our inner knowing, our intuition. This is a vital connection to living our best life, to the source of our internal power. This is connection we want thriving, not suppressed.

Consider this, can you imagine living your life free of guilt? Can you imagine living your life from the standpoint of fully loving and accepting who you are? Can you imagine living your life in a way that allows you to look at the challenges more objectively, as a jumping off point to grow from?

Can you imagine fully experiencing your impulses and intuition rather than having only a vague awareness of something more that only manages to surface now and then?

And consider this, can you imagine a world in which more and more people are acting from this point of being more consciously aware of what they think and feel? And more loving and accepting of themselves?

It starts with you, becoming more consciously aware of who you are, the patterns of thoughts and emotions you have, and taking control of them. It is not a quick process, but you can get small, immediate results by just opening up to the possibility and pursuing this in whatever way works for you.

For me, it has been a combined process of meditating regularly, to be able to start being the observer of my thoughts and feelings rather than wholly identifying with them, together with reading, listening and watching things that inspire and challenge me – and trying things that might facilitate more speedy awareness and release of unwanted patterns, like guided meditations, tapping and the whole world of healing that exists when I started to open up to it.

I invite you to get to know yourself in this way and look forward to the results it creates for all of us.

If what you read here resonates you may enjoy reading Meditation – the Cornerstone to Your Success. If you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

“The key to growth is the introduction of higher dimensions of consciousness into our awareness.” Lao Tzu

This morning I showed up. I know you need a bit more context than that, but I am starting at the most important place.

Like many of you I’ve been on a spiritual journey for a while now and am past debating about what there is or isn’t out there; each of us has our own understanding of that. I’m also past wondering whether I’m nuts or not when it comes to my own abilities.

Allowing the introduction of higher dimensions of consciousness into my awareness has opened me up to things I would never have dreamed of, far less believed. If you have never experienced your extra sensory capabilities beyond perhaps the socially acceptable intuitive sense, but would like to, perhaps it is time to ‘show up’. You will never know what you are capable of unless you try.

It’s not that I have always seen or heard things that others might think aren’t there. While I was always interested in the why of everything, the upbringing I had was pretty ‘normal’ and I didn’t hear, see or feel anything unusual so far as I was aware.

In my twenties I was all about exploring my personal potential, but that was limited to the realms of psychology and was more mainstream. My thirties were the beginning of exploring my spiritual beliefs and my forties appear to be defined by the exploration of more paranormal capabilities.

Our human potential fascinates me, opening up to the nature of reality I gape in wonder and awe at its limitless potential. What we call progress is more of a marker of how far from our true nature we are.

If we truly understood our potential, the internet would never have been necessary; the capability to connect and communicate with anyone and everyone at any time exists within us all. We would never have invented metal tubes that fly through the air taxing our bodies; the capability to move our consciousness through time and space also exists for everyone.

The first time I really experienced anything strange was in a guided meditation aimed at resolving old emotional wounds. It transported me back to times where these hurts began, I had to “look down at my feet” to get a sense of the age I was when whatever incident took place that had sparked the thoughts and feelings that were holding me back.

Once, when doing this, I looked down at my feet and just knew they weren’t my feet, neither was it within my lifetime. I got the sense the feet belonged to one of my grandparents back in the 1940’s. It was weird, but the message it came with was reassuring me about emigrating, so I accepted the reassurance and didn’t analyze it; I just put it down to my imagination.

To be fair, I often think any of the extrasensory experiences I have could be simply my imagination. Then I realise it doesn’t matter whether it is or isn’t, what matters is whether what I hear or see helps me or others in some way. I just take what resonates and tell others the same.

Years later, talking with a friend after the death of her sibling, I found myself spontaneously telling her what her dead sister was saying about the way she was feeling. It was a strange sensation, we were sitting in the middle of one of those noisy indoor play parks for kids (not the setting I would have envisaged) and I got this tingly feeling, then I remember saying “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this but…”.

We both had Goosebumps, but it felt great. Then my next thought was “Who am I?”

Over the next few years these kinds of messages popped up more and more often when I was talking to people. In fact, at one point, it was a daily occurrence for people I hadn’t seen or connected with in years just appearing in my head and I’d have a message for them. I would always pass the message on with the caveat that it was being given in case it was of any help, and they should be sure to take only what resonated,

Then I started more deliberately exploring the different types of abilities people have and trying to figure out if there was a calling in there for me anywhere. After listening to many intuitives, psychics, channels and mediums, I got a much better feel for what I was interested in, and not interested in.

I couldn’t see myself developing a career as a psychic or medium, what interests me is accessing broader intelligence and learning and growing from the different viewpoints that exist beyond just those in people’s heads today.

Then I heard Teal Swan talk about her frequent participation in non-physical forums where various forms of focused consciousness simply share perspectives with each other. This instantly grabbed my attention; it felt like this was the kind of interesting and enriching way of spending my time I’d been looking for.

Now I conceptually understand this is pretty much exactly what we do each night when we are sleeping, but that is an unconscious state. I want to deliberately and consciously shift my awareness in my awakened state to other dimensions to converse with entities who can broaden my view of life within this existence.

I have regular experiences of channeling – some of the stuff that I’ve written sounds far wiser than anything I might say; in fact it is always what I need to hear!  I have no doubts that the ‘me’ I think I am, is much broader than the portion of that consciousness that is generally occupying my body.

While this is great, what I would really like to do is consciously separate (temporarily) from my body in order to experience that broader part of me.

There is no need to convince me that this type of out-of-body experience is possible, in fact it’s more common than I would have believed at the outset of my journey to explore our potential. What I had convinced myself of, was that I lacked the time and space to experience it.

I imagined having to wait until the children were a bit older and going on a lengthy retreat somewhere to be able to really focus on it. A mentor of mine recalled her first experience of this as she taught a Merkaba breathing class many years ago, not that I knew what Merkaba breathing was, but I have since Googled it.  That is indeed the kind of practice I had envisaged doing on a retreat somewhere.

But then she suggested I just show up. Instead of waiting for this moment in the future, just make space for it and sit down at a certain point in the day and imagine myself sitting at the table awaiting to meet with those who are there to share perspectives. Call it my higher-school, and let spirit/life/guides direct me to towards it.

To just show up, that really resonated. I could wait for some point in the future and go on a retreat somewhere to learn about it, but that actually feels a bit contrived. With all that expectation on it, it would unlikely reap what I am looking for. Just showing up for 10 minutes each day felt better, more casual. I decided I’d just do it after my daily meditation.

So the first time I tried I’d gotten a bit caught up in the activity of the day and, by the time I did my meditation and then switched my focus to ‘show up’ for my higher-school, I fell asleep.

The next time, yesterday, I meditated early before any activity had gathered momentum, then I sat afterwards to show up for higher-school again. I did a short practice that I had learned from Alberto Villoldo’s Shamanic teachings to encase yourself in the light that resides in your eighth chakara/ higher heart just to set the intention.

What would this look like I wondered? I tried to decide whether I should be imagining myself in a lecture theatre or at a table, and had decided on a table as it is more interactive. Then, as I pictured myself sitting alone at the table, wondering if it would just be me on my own opening up to a new space, I heard a "hello".

I got this sense of talking to an older man and an image of someone with grey hair and a beard popped into my head. “Richard Bach!” I thought incredulously. Now it’s been a few years since I read Jonathan Livingston Seagull and, to the best of my recollection, it hasn’t come up in conversation lately. So this companion at the forum was rather a surprise.

Feeling awkward, I asked him what he was doing there above the clouds, and he chuckled and said “where else would I be?” This had all thrown me a bit as I don’t think I had actually been expecting anything to happen or any entities to appear, far less one I knew of. I became aware that the point of this whole exercise was about sharing perspectives to expand my views and felt suddenly ill prepared.

So I then asked him why he left the fourth part of his book out first time around, he replied that he didn’t think people were ready to hear it back then. Personally it was my favourite part. Then I asked whether he connected here with others often and he does. I asked who shows up to these things and he said sometimes people like us, sometimes entities from other dimensions; sometimes it's busy, sometimes not.

Then I got the sense he was becoming disinterested, it was – after all – the kind of conversation he could have at a book signing somewhere. I began to feel overly conscious that I wasn’t really contributing anything to this exchange and started to feel more awkward again, wondering what to say next. That is when I sensed things fading away and I felt myself drop back downwards into my body.

Whether what I experienced was in the realms of higher consciousness, or simply an over-active imagination, it less relevant to me than what I got out of it. It was a confidence booster that I can just start to show up in the small snatched moments I have, and see what answers arise to the questions I do have.

There are many questions, like what could the evolution of our monetary system look like? What could the evolution of any of our ‘systems’ (healthcare, education, governments, businesses etc) of society look like?

What does the evolution of our species look like with conscious awareness? Is our potential in human form limitless? What’s Earth’s significance in the Cosmos?

I’d like to understand the answers from an anthropological perspective, and what we have to learn from previous cultures that were more advanced in certain ways (not from books, but from the broader consciousness).

I’d like to understand from other forms of consciousness that reside in physical worlds that may be more advanced. I’d like to understand for those forms of non-physical consciousness that are there to guide and help.

These are all things that interest me, they add meaning to why I am here now, having this life experience. But that is just me. Each of us has our own interests, unique and important. And we each have limitless potential to explore these.

The question is whether you will show up? To show up just means making yourself available. Whether there is something specific you have in mind, or whether you just have this general sense of what you’d love to explore, start somewhere – anywhere. 

I once heard someone ask whether life can be defined more by its potential than its limitation. To show up is to believe in the possibility of your life being more than it is now. Believe in your potential and you’ll be amazed at what you can achieve.

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust
They came to my door, interrupting a quiet meditation, brandishing their leaflet. “No thank you”, I said, “I am a spiritual writer, my beliefs are my own and well thought through.” “Ah”, she replied “with the breakdown of families today we are trying to encourage people to look to the Bible for answers.”

Not that I have anything against the Bible (or any other doctrine) per se, it is just that my own experience would teach that I look outside myself only for inspiration, rather than answers.

I figure that since I am the very essence of that which created me, and would be hard put to argue the miracle and magnificence of life in its creation. I therefore have every confidence my answers are already within, rather than being left to the chance I read something written by another’s hand.

The last time they came to my door, it was on the pretext of what terrible things are happening in the world. It just does not resonate with me that a creator who has given me the freedom to create, think and feel as I please would talk through fear. Fear and judgment, these are human emotions, that I have felt in response to withholding myself from the love that is always there.

As unique as I am, there is nothing that leads me to believe my answers can be anything other than just as unique.

The question is how to find those answers. I found an amusing, yet enlightening, pointer in a novel I was reading recently, set in the eighteenth century. A young Scots girl talking to another about her life in a convent recounted “Sister Xaveria says we should try to be silent, I think so we can better hear God talk. But I’ve never heard him yet, I’m no sae good at keeping silent.”

Now life in the twenty first century does not always allow for a lot of silence, so it’s something I prioritise and carve out. It’s rarely in moments when I am interacting with the world that I can fathom answers, more so it is in the moments of contemplation about them.

I make a point of doing absolutely nothing, except observing my thoughts and letting them go, for fifteen minutes each day, you could call this meditation. I also make a point of getting out in nature and taking walks by myself.

I find life is full of clues to the answers I’m looking for, but it is also true that we rarely see the things we don’t expect to see (that was another piece of wisdom shared by Sister Xaveria with the wee lass in the story).

When I am upset over of another’s judgment, it’s hard to swallow that their judgment is something I wouldn’t even notice if it weren’t mirroring back a judgment of my own.

“Our eyes only see what we need to grow from, so what we see in others we have in ourselves.” Those wise words of Annette Noontil’s resonate, there is no denying the truth of it in my experience. All I need do is look in the mirror of life and see what’s annoying me and – ta da – that is an area in which I have a lot of opportunity for growth.

Like saying no to things that I feel are expected of me without making it a crusade (something I have been guilty of as a defensive tactic in the past), I get the opportunity to regularly practice this as part of my children’s school community. I want to be liked, I want people to think well of me, but I also have to honour my own needs and that can often mean saying no to others.

Having grown up in a world telling me how I ought to behave and feel, where ‘unselfish’ behaviour is extolled as virtuous, I learned that I should put the needs of others before my own and to make a defense if I wanted to do otherwise. Yet how can I be everything to everyone if I am nothing to myself?

Just this week one of the parents gave birth to a new addition and the call went out to fill a two-week roster of meals for the family. I’m not someone who finds joy in making meals, or pretty much any other housekeeping task, quite the opposite – I find it stressful. So I didn’t respond, passive in my no, and felt a bit guilty; though the guilt is getting less the more I practice.

It’s rarely easy to change ingrained patterns and behaviours, but when there is a voice within encouraging me, and outward signs of stress, it is as well to heed what being said. Ignoring it can only lead to later regrets, at best, or illness and ill fortune at worst.

It’s not that I don’t like to help people, on the contrary, I love making a difference in people’s lives. But I also know it’s my experience, intuition and perspective - rather than my lasagna - that is my forte; that is where I find a win-win.

Yet it’s a fine balance to be self accepting enough to put my own needs first and to still be self aware enough to look for areas of growth; and to do either without defense. Being willing to take a hard look at myself is something that has therefore taken a long time.

Sometimes I manage look at what is happening in my life with an objective enquiry as to its occurrence and opportunities, sometimes not. But I never stop trying to be the best version of me and lead the best life I can, following the yellow brick road by seeking only clues outwardly and answers inwardly.

And how do I know when I have found my answers? That is easy, the answers just feel right, they feel good. I feel proud of myself when I’ve taken action based on my answers within, rather than feeling like I’ve survived something.

So how often do you look within for your answers? Are you able to keep silent enough to hear them? Test that they are there and, if they feel right, trust they will lead you to your best life.

Other related articles of Shona’s you might enjoy:
​
Find Your Light and Let it Shine
Meet Challenges with an Open Heart and Mind
Each to Their Own – Finding Your True North
Meditation – You’re Cornerstone to Success
The Most Honest Feedback You Will Ever Get - Dream Messages

If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Feeling Trapped? Know this: Circumstances change; this is not forever. You have to trust that, in time, solutions will present themselves. Read here for the full article on Tiny Buddha

“Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.” Mother Teresa

I will never forget the feeling of loneliness, though it is something I now rarely feel, but those memories are still etched on my heart.

There is no one memory, more a series of them, as people in my life came and went. Yet I was brought up in a loving family, by parents who were very much together in their game of life. I was surrounded by a large extended family who were also in long running relationships, it seemed like the thing to do was find that person to partner with.

Happy ever after is what was fed to me through the very fabric of the society I was brought up in, and people leaving my life was something I felt acutely – and took personally.

Being a sensitive soul, I like to go deep with people, so I’ve always tended towards a small group of close friends rather than a large social circle. Having moved around and moved through different relationships though, I will acknowledge that small group has changed and grown over the years, but with each chapter there can only be a spotlight on a few.

So those few who hold my heart and attention in the present moment are always the ones most acutely felt when they exit my life. What I feel now when this happens (something I am largely at peace with) is massively different compared to my earlier years. I will try to describe what has made the difference.

First though, a few of those earlier memories.

I remember bumping into an old friend at university one day, a day when my usual circle of friends were not there and I was feeling like a spare part hanging around between lectures. It had been hard adjusting to university, it was so completely overwhelming in its size and culture compared to anything I’d experienced before and there was real no sense of belonging.

My old friend had been one of my closest in our early teenage years, and we often stayed at each other’s houses. But I had let that friendship slip as my focus was drawn into a relationship at the age of sixteen. So bumping into her at university made my heart lift, but as we stood and talked it became obvious how much she had moved on, and she had someplace to be; there was no welcome to join her.

My heart sank as I watched her walk away. There was no malice in her actions, but I felt terrible none the less. I became acutely aware of how she must have felt when I had left her to pursue other interests. That is the hardest part of friendships and relationships, letting go when I’ve outgrown them.

Yet I have always let go, the calling inside me to move on stronger than any regret about staying. Sometimes, though, the call to move on has not been mine.

I can vividly remember sitting in my room at my parents’ house one Saturday night, looking up through the street beyond, and watching a neighbor head out for a night on the town with his friends.

I’d been in a relationship with a guy I met at university and, in that summer I graduated, he had left me. He’d had the whole of my heart for almost a couple of years by then, and I just felt so totally rejected and worthless.

On that Saturday night as I watched my neighbor, I felt utterly alone and sad and wondered how to get past what had happened. Having been so involved in that relationship and, having just left university, I really had no circle of friends that I could even ring up and go for a drink with. Even my younger brother was out having fun with his friends.

Slowly, starting with a girlfriend of my ex’s friend that we used to socialize with, I built another circle of friends and life moved on.

In later years I can then recall – in another relationship – my partner going off out with his mates one Sunday evening. I had moved cities and pretty much had our relationship and my work, that was enough to keep my attention fully occupied, so I hadn’t really cultivated a group of friends to socialize with and didn’t much feel like doing that anyway.

It was a strange thing to be faced with an empty space, scary even. But there I was, his Sunday night out became a regular thing. At first I felt lonely, then I started to fill my time with things that interested me and quickly began to look forward to ‘my’ time.

That might sound so obvious, but living in constant company had gotten me used to compromise. There was freedom in watching the kinds of TV shows that only I wanted to watch, listening to – and dancing to – music only I liked, reading books and having time to reflect and contemplate.

But being on my own with my thoughts was not always an attractive concept in days gone past because I was completely identified with the thoughts rather than simply observing them. Talking to a friend the other day about this same topic, I was sharing a memory of being in a motel with the kids and waking up one night about 4am, hearing a loud bang in the neighbourhood.

Wherever my thoughts had started, they quickly spiraled to a bad place in that half awake state. I was soon imagining a mad gunman on the loose and had carefully planned an escape route in my head that included waking the kids up and getting them well away from danger without alerting the gunman. Thankfully I caught those thoughts, observing how they were making me feel and reasoning the unlikely nature of them.   

While I had learned the ability to ‘talk myself down’ from a highly anxious state many years before, it was actually during the time my partner’s social life had left me free each Sunday evening that I began to take more regular notice of my thoughts and how they were making me feel more generally.

I read a book by Brandon Bays called The Journey, recommended by a friend. The Journey was Brandon’s account of self healing, fully recovering from a large tumor with no medical intervention.  

It was the beginning of the journey to me, the journey to my inner world that included no one else.  You see, up until that point, it had always taken another person to explore the depths. But this was all me, figuring out who I am, life and all that I and we are capable of.

That was about 15 years ago and it has, by no means, been an easy journey. There have still been moments of the good, the bad, the downright ugly and the amazing. But loneliness? Not so much. Every since Brandon took me on a guided meditation and showed me how to find the peace within myself, and how connected to everything else we are, loneliness is no longer there to be felt.

The single biggest shift in that conscious awareness of my thoughts, and of the much larger part of myself behind those thoughts, has come through regularly meditating. My whole concept of how who I am, how the world operates and how to get the best out of it all has completely changed for the better. I feel more in control, happier and – most definitely – not lonely.

So have you met the most important person in your life – you – in this way? If you’ve had glimpses of it, I’d encourage you to regularly practice observing what you’re thinking and feeling, the connection between the two and your power to change it. A more balanced and contented you leads to a more balanced and contented world; a world in which loneliness will be a thing of the past.

Other related articles of Shona’s you might enjoy:

Who Am I Now?
Great Relationships Happen When You Put You First
Saying Goodbye
Meditation – You’re Cornerstone to Success
Keep Growing: Don’t Look Back - Don’t Look Down

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