“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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Some people know their purpose, they have dreams and goals and pursue them with vigour. Go them!

But what if you don’t know your purpose, yet feel there must be more to life than you are living?

That was me, and still is in some ways. Uncovering my life’s purpose has been a process of tiny steps, serendipitous moments, sorting through the wanted and unwanted, figuring out who I am beneath the shroud of a lifetime of gathered beliefs and trying out lots of ideas.

I agree wholeheartedly with Annette Noontil’s words “It is our absolute need to look inside and find our purpose; to know where we came from, what we are doing here and where we are going. Then we can move into fulfilling our purpose and not waste our time here.”

When I met my mentor twelve years ago, I had just wanted someone objective to talk to, be accountable to even, as I’d just moved countries and was starting afresh. The questions Annette Noontil poses were on my mind. So I asked someone I knew (who was on my wavelength) if they could recommend anyone, and that led me to my mentor.

While she works internationally by phone, I was fortunate to live nearby. From the first day I met her, she held a vision beyond all I could articulate at that point. I can’t remember the conversation specifically, but it felt like someone saying:

“Oh, I recognise you. That shell on the outside isn’t really you; you just had to develop that for protection. When you were a tiny seedling, barely taken hold, someone tried to shape you and it bruised and hurt; so you retreated within and developed an outer protection. But you are still whole inside that shell and we can retrieve that seed of who you are and give her the time, space and nourishment to grow and blossom.”

It took me many years to sift through what is me, the true essence, rather than the shell I’d identified with as being me for so long. My mentor, who was probably more of a coach at that point, rarely gave me any answers. Instead, she would encourage me to find my own, relentlessly reflecting back (and amplifying) the salient points of whatever was going on for me, but from a broader perspective.

I was the little seed taking root again down in the rich soil of authenticity, she was soaring above the treetops, her view expansive. She knew I couldn’t yet see the sun, but she would encourage me to feel its warmth, to take my nourishment and to just keep going.

And along the way, although for a long time I was still so completely buried in a life that knew only that outer shell, these were my moments of fresh air.

When I started writing, it was as a young shoot breaking through. As I have continued to write and to explore all the aspects of who I am, I have grown in awareness, confidence and strength. Now I’m a bud brimming and beginning to burst open, entirely transplanted in my authenticity.

Then my partner asked me why I continue to book in time with my mentor; I guess he figures I’ve gone a long way down the road of asking (and answering for myself) a lot of life’s big questions. I can tell you, without skipping a beat, my purpose relates to creating a higher level of conscious awareness on Earth.

But I want more; the part of me that shares through these articles is poised for expansion. Yet, like many of you, I am also bound to the responsibilities of life: looking after my kids, being in a relationship, running a household, supporting my partner’s business and cultivating our garden among other things.

Any expansion will have to come from serendipitous moments rather than me actively pursuing anything specific. I have begun from a point of ease rather than effort, building a pretty credible platform on my own terms, and intend to continue that way.

And that is where having someone who believes in me, and can see that ‘more’ is inevitable, is critical. The part of me that writes and shares with you is the part least understood by most of the people in my life.

So I cannot adequately express the gratitude I feel to have someone that understands the importance of this to my very existence and continues to encourage the brimming bud to blossom in the rays of the sun.

Someone who believes in us is a magical thing. There are many quotes about believing in yourself, but someone else who believes in you – even when you don’t feel like you can believe in yourself – is a huge motivator to keep going.

When you are earnest in your endeavours, my experience is that people step forwards to help, you just have to be brave enough to take it. It doesn’t mean you have to do everything they suggest, in fact they may not suggest much at all, but take the encouragement and use it to fuel whatever resonates.

I’ve come to the conclusion it is common to be surrounded by people who can’t see or believe what you can feel in your heart to be true. As much as others love you, and may want the best for you, they can see only their own horizons. That means you will have to seek out people who love what you love and have seen the sun rise and set many times over a different horizon.

When I was little I announced one day, after a swimming lesson, that I was joining the local swim squad. My parents were thrust into a world of driving me to and from pools in the cold darkness of the early morning and late evenings as I trained.

I was earnest, and I was disciplined; I showed up every day for years. One of the coaches took me under his wing and volunteered his time to help me focus on my technique outside of the usual training hours. We studied Mark Spitz, who had won seven gold medals and set new world records in each of those races in the 1972 Olympic games (the year I was born).

My parents loved and supported me, but this was not their arena. The head coach had written me off, but not Bill Tinney and not my next coach, Owen Flannigan (who we affectionately called Mr. F). So there was a measure of satisfaction when Mr. F told me one day I’d just narrowly missed being picked for the national swim team.

However, it was also a defining moment as I realised that wasn’t what I wanted. I had really been enjoying pushing my body but my most abiding memory is of the meditative effect of swimming up and down the lanes mile after mile, contemplating much.

So I thought of Mr. Tinney and Mr. F as I got back in the pool this morning, for the first time in earnest in over 30 years. Their time was not wasted, each cell of my body rejoiced as it got to move again, each limb remembered exactly what to do as I sliced through the water.  I won’t deny my underarms and shoulders ached somewhat, but in a good way.

There are not adequate words to express how thankful I feel to have these people – past and present –believe in me and help me along the way. If you have someone like that, embrace them; if not, go find them.

The effects of someone who believes in you and who has walked the path you are walking, or has walked with others who are further along the path than you are, is nothing short of magical.

And I can categorically say that, if you have been drawn to read this, there is more within you too. And the world will be a richer place when we can help you express it.

With thanks to a magical lady, Chrissy Ramsay, who holds a light for many. 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.

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.

Many times I have felt a twinge of failure in this journey we are on together, now is another of those times.
Ideally I would love you to be able to learn what you want, when you want and in the way you want. In truth, you will anyway as it is only experience that teaches. But I’d like to have given you a freedom of scope beyond that which you have.

I know you would not choose to go to school if you had the option. I know one of the options open to us is homeschooling. But then, instead of teaching you to be who you are, I would be sacrificing who I am – and that is not the lesson I intend.

​Like all parents I would like to give you the perfect childhood. But what does that even mean?

Each parent, I think, has some driving force that influences the way they parent. For me it’s about allowing you to be who you are. For others it is about other things, like raising independent children. We are all different.

Allowing you the freedom to unfold as you want to, yet figuring out what that means in a society with many others who feel they have a right to impose their opinion – or worse, control – upon you, is an ongoing process.

I often say that if we lived cut off from society, you would be able to unfold unhindered. Consequences would naturally arise and you would learn and grow. We, however, live in a society of imposed consequences that remove your thinking from the true nature of things.

Like the time I talked to your daycare about the meals they made that you did not want. If we refuse food, it has a natural consequence – hunger. But the daycare chose to impose further consequences designed to make you comply. If you did not eat your meal, they re-presented it at afternoon tea and prohibited you from eating the cakes the others ate.

In this same way, we live in a society that creates parents as upholders of the millions of rules set by others. It creates more reliance on the parenting relationship than you would otherwise have naturally.

The government says you have to attend school between the ages of six and sixteen. The other option is to apply for an exemption and to home school. I have said you can do this when the time comes for college. At that point you will be able to drive your own curriculum and self-learn in a way that will satisfy our government.

In the meantime, you have to go to school. We have chosen the one that is most closely aligned to our values from the options available, but still, it is a square peg in a round hole.

This leaves a hole in my heart, especially when this pathway – that seemed to offer much – does not entirely deliver what I was expecting.

This is life sometimes; we take two steps forwards and one step backward. But what I have learned about holes and backward steps is that I must welcome them.

There is nothing in my past that has not turned out well in the longer run, for the best even.

I think I cannot give you the things I’d like to, but in truth I trust you are being given all that you need.

My own pathway was not one of having freedom to unfold. It was very decidedly of an era that ensured I walked the narrow pathway it prescribed, ‘or else’.

I ate the food I was given. I went to the school I was told to. I learned what I was told to. I treated people the way I was told to… the list is endless.  Yet still, I found the way back to me.

Society has changed a lot since I was young; more people have more freedom by comparison.

The biggest change though, I believe, is in the numbers who are becoming increasingly aware of the opportunities for an evolution of our society today.

Imagine health care that pays attention to the whole being, education that caters for individual expression and growth, governments operating with transparency and open communication or science that embraces the metaphysical.  The list and the opportunities are endless.

Most exciting of all, you are the generation born into a society becoming aware of its opportunities and failings. This puts you in the creative driving seat when it comes to solutions.

So life is not perfect my little ones, I don’t think we ever intended it to be or this journey would be fairly dull by comparison.

I, for my part, will always do my best to do whatever I feel is right in each moment; for that is all I can do, all any of us can do.

I love you always; keep following your joy.

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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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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A few years ago now as I was walking around my old neighbourhood, a deeply profound thought struck me:

The closer anything is to its natural state the better it is for us.

Food has become an issue for me. Not because I’m concerned about my weight particularly, though I am overweight according to my Body Mass Index (BMI) and have been for years. For those who don’t know, your BMI is a measure of body fat based on your weight in relation to your height, you can easily Google BMI calculators to work it out.

My issue is more about how I’m feeling; I can just tell the food I’m eating doesn’t resonate with me anymore. As I’ve gone on this journey to a more authentic me, the food I used to enjoy is less and less appealing. After I eat I feel bloated and sluggish, and generally yuck.

A while back I showed my kids a fun video about the digestive system and how our bodies function at optimal health when our internal environment is slightly alkaline. It’s a basic truth I’d learned about our physiology years ago.

We then watched a video about acid and alkaline (or base) foods. We made two big charts, one for acids, one for alkalines, and cut out heaps of pictures of the foods that we eat before sticking them to their relevant chart. 

That was a visual wake up call, with about 80-90% of what we eat being acid inducing food. It’s almost the exact opposite of what a healthy balance would look like. Not surprisingly, if I were to eat a variety of whole foods in their natural state, the balance would be totally reversed and support my natural physiology.

I then bought a book that appealed for some recipe ideas, called Vegge Mama, since my kids eat practically no vegetables and my partner and I are just sick of the ‘same old’ meals. The authors, Doreen Virtue and Jenny Ross, share their food stories at the beginning; Doreen’s father has been a vegetarian since childhood and her mother was a food counselor; Jenny doesn’t say what her childhood diet was like, just that a health crisis about 20 years ago led her to a plant-based raw food diet and then to becoming a raw food chef.

The foods look good, but it’s overwhelming. There are a whole bunch of ingredients I’ve never heard of and, by the time I tried to figure out if that is because it’s an American word for something I do know (like cilantro instead of coriander, or zucchini instead of courgette) or whether it’s just something new to me entirely, my willpower to do something different had waned.

My childhood diet was typical West of Scotland fare. Dinner was meat, potatoes and two veg; breakfast and lunch were usually some form of wheat with some form of dairy; and these were supplemented with snacks of seasonal fruit, bread (with butter and jam) and – if we were lucky – home baking consisting of some combination of refined flour and sugar. Treats were anything fried, , sugar (cooked, baked and boiled in its many guises) and a can of diet Irn Bru (a lurid orange-coloured fizzy concoction sworn to get rid of a hangover).

Cholesterol became a thing in the 1980’s, and so we ditched the more natural butter in favour of foul margarine. Then McDonald’s came on the scene, followed by a whole raft of other fast food choices to complement the kebab shops and Chinese and Indian take-out restaurants.

As life has progressed, many of these elements have remained in my diet. When I became an adult and moved away from home, I learned how to cook many more pasta and rice dishes to add variety to the potato and veg kind. But I soon discovered that very little of these foods are actually helping my body, most of what I’ve eaten for most of my life is highly processed or mono-farmed; far from its optimal natural state.

That is annoying, I feel myself taking a deep sigh as I’m not really a lover of cooking. It’s a means to an end for me, and not something I wanted to have to entirely relearn, changing all my shopping and cooking habits feels like a huge deal.

Hence there are only three times in my life I’ve ‘been on a diet’. The first was when I became housebound for months in my early twenties, undiagnosed with a debilitating lethargy. This was in the days before the internet, so I was reliant on bemused doctors, magazines and library books.

My research, such that it was, led me to the early discussions about Candida Albicans and yeast overgrowth, and I embarked on an anti-candida diet. That was no mean feat in those days, especially given the social context (it was seen as highly controversial and ‘alternative’), and ingredients were hard to come by.

Eventually I was diagnosed with panic disorder and generalized anxiety, so my focus shifted more to ‘mind over matter’, but I had learned a lot about food groups and their effect on human physiology in the process.

The second and third diets that I have ever embarked on were both in an attempt to conceive. After four failed pregnancies, by the time I reached my late thirties I had again begun to look more broadly at my health. Much of what I read reminded me of what I’d learned back in my early twenties. In the intervening years, candida overgrowth (synonymous with internal inflammation in the mucous membranes and resulting health issues) had become a more widely recognised and less contentious issue.

I was drawn to a book by Dee McCaffrey about flourless and sugarless living, and was astounded by her knowledge and experience around this issue. Recently I was reminded of it again when I saw an online course being offered by Susan Peirce Thompson, who has spent years studying the psychology and neuroscience behind addiction when it comes to these foods. Refined sugar and flour are as addictive as cocaine and heroin and block our body’s natural ability to know when it is full.

So it was no surprise to me when a naturopath looked me in the eye and told me “no self respecting fetus wants to come into a gloopy environment”. He may not have used those exact words, but I heard what he was saying and I got it. Both times I switched to a more natural alkalizing diet and I was pregnant within a month, and both resulted in healthy babies.

Of course, in the months and years that followed, with breastfeeding and a family and house to look after as well as a full time senior corporate role to hold down, I reverted back to my old habits. This is an aspect that Susan Peirce Thompson deals with head on – willpower. Her philosophy is to draw a line and make no exceptions for unhealthy food choices, as you would for anything else addictive.

I understand this and the science behind it, and in situations that are ‘acute’ or pressing, I have proven myself capable. Whereas right now, this dis-ease with my health is more chronic, making it feel less pressing.

I know that is not cool, I know that ignoring all the small signs and symptoms only leads to larger issues down the line.

The question is how to tackle it. I know anything that feels like ‘effort’ can negate whatever I am trying to achieve. So how do I go about creating more healthy habits in a way that feels easier?

From a metaphysical perspective, I’ve found discussions about food and energy from the likes of Anthony William and Teal Swan extremely interesting.  Many intuitives often ‘see’ the energy that flows in and around us, including our food, whereas most of us generally only feel it.

The concept of eating food that is alive and full of life energy seems so much more appealing than food that is, for want of a better word, dead.

While I’d easily find food full of kilojoules in a supermarket, I would struggle to find anything with much life energy. Teal’s run down of foods that are worst for us (in order, everything from sugar substitutes and pesticides to dairy and meat) resonated with everything else I’ve heard and read; you can hear this on her You Tube channel.

Vladimir Megre’s Ringing Cedar series also has some fantastic information about our optimal diet and lifestyle, and how to go about tackling it.

I know my ideal end goal is to eat fresh foods I pick from my garden, foods grown with love and in a more healthy (for the plant and therefore me) companion-plant mix. Not the best news when neither cooking nor gardening is really my thing, the kids are fairly picky eaters and my partner is bound and determined to stick with gluten and meat.

So it was of some relief to be reminded, when listening to one of Teal’s videos, that as I follow my path of authenticity I’ll be naturally inspired towards the types of foods that are healthier for me. All I need do is work my way into this incrementally.

That hit home. The ‘all or nothing’ is too much for me right now, too big a leap to make in one swoop. I have to break this down. I decided that each week, when I order the shopping, I’d choose one new recipe to prepare. That way we can try new things, incorporating the ones we like into my new repertoire, which can slowly build up over the coming months and years.

My rule of thumb is that it has to be natural, tasty and easy.

Simultaneously the garden has become my domain. My partner, who has tended to take a lead in the past, is just too busy this Spring to plant up and look after the vegetables (yes it’s Spring here in the Southern hemisphere). So the kids and I have chosen some of the basics and will use some of our time at the weekends to start growing what we need.

While I’m hoping that will inspire them to make more healthy food choices, I recognise this is about what I’m feeling the intuitive nudge to address. Right now they seem more enamored with everything I’ve come to dislike. I trust, in time, they will follow their own intuition around this issue. In the meantime they will find more healthful choices available to them around the home.

Whether you feel a critical need to urgently look at your food choices, or whether this is something that has been grumbling along in the background, only you can determine. The key thing though is to get your head around it. To work out what beliefs you have that are fear based, versus what your body is telling you about your diet.

You won’t choose lettuce and carrots for dinner and suddenly find the path of enlightenment. However the reverse can be true, so trust your inner knowing on this issue. Listen to your body and you’ll discover the foods that will support you in living your best life.

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.

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

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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As a proponent of finding one’s inner power and expressing our authentic selves, being called into the Assistant Principal’s office at my children’s Primary school at the age of 46 - and getting told off for booking a family holiday in term time - was an interesting experience.

I know this issue comes up time and again in the media, I know some countries – like the UK – actually fine parents for doing this, and I know there are arguments on all sides, but I feel like the arguments are happening at the wrong level.

What is the purpose of education? I’ll start with the dictionary definition; it’s a process of learning new skills, values, beliefs and habits. It’s fair to say that government-run education systems are about indoctrinating children into society.

The question in my mind is therefore what kind of society do we want to create?

For my part, I am not concerned about our future generations, as my recently published article Our Future is Bright – Why Worry? attests; it may be worth a read for a different point of view if you hold any fears about it yourself.

I'm certainly not worried about a breakdown of society and the traditional constructs and systems as we know them, they are long overdue and inevitable in my view. I'm excited to see the changes brought about by these new generations. So how can we best support them in that?

In our country, by law a child has to be in a system of education between the ages of 6 and 16, or the parent has to have been granted an exemption (usually for home schooling). There is no choice in the matter and, as I was taught, we are to feel that having an education is a privilege.

Now compared to some of the historical alternatives, and perhaps even some of those we see in countries today, I can see why the educational process I went through myself was an improvement upon those.

However, in my lifetime the rate of change on this planet has accelerated and, with the ushering in of the technological era and meteoric rise in consumerism, I believe the resulting constant and overwhelming bid for our attention is birthing another era – the age of meaning.

With knowledge at our fingertips, there is less thirst for it.

My daughter said to me just the other day “why couldn’t we just be born knowing how to read and write, then we wouldn’t have to go to school?” I’m going to come back to that thought later in the article. First let me tell you what happened.

My kids attend a school we chose primarily for its setting and general philosophy. I love the natural environment in which it resides, the fabulous adjuncts (like a programme that develops children’s auditory processing skills) and the fantastic teachers my children have had the good fortune to experience.     

The school seems to attract quite a contingent of those of us who have moved here from other countries, so it has quite a multi-national demographic in terms of the families being taught there. New Zealand itself is a country of immigrants; even those we might call indigenous are thought to have arrived perhaps only as far back as 800 years ago.

Thus most people here can track their ancestry to many other places in the world, and so wanderlust is part of the culture. The ‘big OE’ (overseas experience) has been a part of the Kiwi way of life for a long time.  Whereas when I worked in the UK, it was unusual for companies to grant an employee an extended leave of absence for an overseas trip, it is quite commonplace here.

And this has been reflected within the school culture too, travel and experiences oversees were encouraged.

However, last week the school announced a new process for planned absences. Given we are about to embark on a family holiday (that the teacher has known about since February), I found the new process includes being invited into the office and told not to book such a thing again.

While, certainly in New Zealand, there is no discrepancy in the Ministry of Education's eyes between persistent absenteeism and an absence due to a holiday, I feel there is a huge difference in the two in terms of developing a child's will and the effects on their education.  There will also be quite a difference in overall actual attendance across the year.

It is quite one thing to take measured absences, another to just decide not to bother going to school.

​In the past the ministry hasn’t published individual school absence rates on their website, but perhaps there is a move to push up attendance levels? I was not given a clear answer.

However, neither the intent nor content of the conversation with the school about our family holiday has dissuaded me from the choices we have made nor persuaded me that it's actually my child's interests that are really of concern. 

My children will have a wonderful opportunity to spend two unadulterated weeks in nature, spending their days with parents more fully present than they can hope to have at home with the demands of school and business.

With the way school weeks and terms are currently structured, intense blocks of weeks followed by similarly intense weeks of holidays, quite aside of any financial implications, would any of us really choose to go somewhere at a time (in school holidays) that is likely to be ridiculously busy and full of frazzled people trying to let go of overwhelm?

Now a road paved with less intensity and burn out, shorter school days, shorter weeks and less holidays, more of a natural rhythm and balance, this is something I would support for children and teachers alike.

That said, I can well understand the challenges for a teacher constantly having children absent, having experience myself in the realm of adult training and having managed hundreds of staff for many years. I know it is a rare thing to have a ‘full house’. Absenteeism in the workplace is as prevalent as it as at school, and – I think – for the same reasons.

We inherently feel our freedom within, and are less and less willing to conform to systems that do not allow us to express this. I see people now in swathes quietly and passively rebelling against that which we could call authority, so it was interesting (and perhaps somewhat unfortunate) when the assistant principle mentioned a book he’s been reading The Spoilt Generation: Why Restoring Authority Will Make Our Children and Society Happier by Dr Aric Sigman.

Although I suspect my views and Dr Sigman’s do not differ as substantially as one might think, it’s the deliberately controversial use of his chosen terminology that would set many of my generation against it. The inference is that we’ve ‘gone soft’ in our parenting. While I would acknowledge that we are a generation of parents now having to figure out ideal boundaries for things that were not even thought of when I was a child,
I’m not so sure Dr Sigman’s terminology would attract us to his methods.

In fact, if you’ve read any of my articles you will know I am not an advocate of blindly following any particular system or method for anything. I advocate for people finding their own power, their own answers, within themselves. I therefore hold a vision for an evolution in our education systems (and society more broadly) that would seek to guide a child to look within for their answers.

Much of the help I offer is to people who – like me - are trying to retrieve that sense of authentic self, and have no idea after years of effectively being told ‘others know better’ how to even hear their own inner voice. And I watch as those who've suppressed it are consumed by cancers and other diseases that arise from being so detached from the essence of who they are to even see the connection to the causation, which is usually years of suppressed emotions. It is a fascinating topic.

As to where this leads, I'm not so sure about a spoiled generation, over-stimulated yes. Hence we are now seeing generations of children being born with sensory processing sensitivities and disorders.

But if I circle back to my daughter’s question, about wishing to have been born knowing how to read and write, I think this is a topic worth exploration and research. I had a grandparent exclaim to me recently their awe at their infant grandchild quite obviously being able to understand so much despite not yet being able to talk.

This is well known in child development terms. But what if it goes beyond this? I have read enough accounts of human capability over the years that would lead me to believe that is is quite possible that all that has ever been thought, said or discovered to this point is held in our collective consciousness, and therefore does not need to be retaught again and again, it simply needs accessed.

As I wrote in What We Wonder About Creates Our Future, I am left to wonder at how technology has increased connection significantly yet decreased presence just as significantly. I wonder when people will begin to understand that technological connectedness is a crude replica of the connection that exists to everything when we are able to be fully present within ourselves. And I wonder when the masses will tap into that state of presence and connection, which is infinitely more powerful.

I also wonder when we will treat education as a lifelong journey rather than an obligatory 10 year slot that one should see as a privilege. I wonder when we will wake up to the inherent intelligence in our newborn and help them to access it rather than thwart it each step of the way?

And I continue to wonder at the magnificence of a world that allowed me to bring this conversation to the table, it is a beginning. For all that you might agree or disagree, I believe our systems of education hold far more potential than we are allowing.

Rather than focusing on attendance or methods and a curriculum that perpetuate a society ill equipped to meet the present, never mind its future, we should be taking a huge step back and asking questions that lead to an evolution of the whole thing.

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

​“One can begin so many things with a new person – even begin to be a better man.” George Eliot, Middlemarch

“How do I open up from a point of being authentic me rather than living life through a defensive attitude?” This was a question posed to me after I had written about embracing your sensitivity.

It was an opportune question as I had just met someone the day before who had challenged me on this very subject. She didn’t know she was challenging me; she was just innocently going through a fairly standard process of meeting someone new. And, of course, meeting a new person is a perfect chance to portray the authentic me…. except….

Except authentic me is still in infancy in comparative terms to the more practiced version who has operated in the world for many more years. In truth, making the switch to authentic requires determination and persistence.

Each time I catch myself not acting in my own best interests, and dropping into the more comfortable learned behavioural patterns and coping mechanisms from my life to date, I have to take a deep breath and choose to be uncomfortable for a time.

I had, overall, a lovely conversation with this new person I met. Yet it all felt rather awkward and bungled from my inner perspective. We met through our respective parents-in-law, who are old friends, and we started up a side-conversation as the others caught up on their news.

It was the sort of conversation that took a natural course. We each have foreign accents, so the aspects of what brought us to New Zealand and how long ago and how we like it etc were discussed. Then the conversation turned to the traditional “and what do you do?”

The answer I wanted to give is “I be me”, but that tells her nothing and everything at the same time. Based on what she’d shared about what she did and was interested in, I made a judgment (a mistake) that she probably wouldn’t be interested in my world – the deep ‘meaning of life’ world.

So, instead, I just said “I write about personal growth stuff and I give people advice, a perspective, on things they are tussling with.” That’s at least one hurdle I have overcome in the introduction of my authentic self, not too bad an opener in terms of describing where I’m at, but there have been many more bungled attempts in days no so long ago.

When someone asks what I do, I could go ahead and describe the things that take up most of my time, like looking after the kids and the various roles involved in supporting my partner’s business. Those are the more ‘ordinary’ answers but not my authentic answer. It was however – as I discovered – the tact she had taken in her answer, which is why my judgment was incorrect.

“Oh, so do you mean like a life coach?” she asked. And that, while taking me down a less practiced route, was what opened the conversation up. I tried to explain that I don’t use that term as I don’t have any expectations on what people do with my perspective.

She then asked about what qualifications that requires and whether there is money to be made. That all felt a bit harder to explain on the spot, especially compared to the previously well-versed and practiced responses I had grounded myself in days gone past when I worked in the corporate arena and was used to explaining who I was and what I did.

Certainly my breadth and depth of experience, objectivity and intuitive sense usually equate to a perspective that is helpful to others, but right now I’m in exploration mode, I haven’t settled on a label or a career, nor do I particularly want to; I’m simply answering a calling.

This was not the smooth answer I gave though (having now had time to reflect on it), in truth I can’t remember what I said. I became aware my ego was itching to step in and boost my credibility by explaining that I used to have a successful corporate career, but my awareness of that stopped it in its tracks and so my explanations felt faltering.

But we bungled on anyway. She shared that she liked to read Oprah and other personal growth perspectives, and she was wondering whether I wrote similar kind of stuff. Then she surprised me by asking what I thought about the shift in human consciousness that is purported to be occurring and whether I agreed.

This took us to the deeper stuff, having established that area of common interest in what’s happening in the world as people seem to be awakening to the broader part of themselves. It was a wonderful conversation in all, diving into the kinds of questions that fill my soul while, at the same time, filling my tummy with the delicious homemade cheese scones that had been placed in front of us.

I was aware of the conversation being a learning ground at the time, and wasn’t thrilled about the initial awkward feelings it gave me inside. But that is part of growth. I could continue in my not-so-comfortable rut with it’s more socially acceptable and comfortable labels for things, or I can strive for authenticity and revealing the authentic me.

A friend of mine, who has been studying psychologist and anthropologist Alberto Villoldo’s discoveries on ancient Shaman wisdom, was talking about this very issue of authenticity and labels. While the shamanic practices that she loves will be an integral part of whatever she does, she is also finishing off a diploma that will allow her to anchor herself into something more widely understood.

While there is nothing wrong in that, it just highlights to me that the labels we have no longer really fit and we are trying to credibly create bridges to a future, more enlightened, world. As more of us are recognizing our desire to discover and reveal our authentic selves, I have no doubt that the things we are grappling with today will get quickly forgotten in the future we create.

It all starts as we bring more of who we authentically are into the world. As George Eliot said, with new people you can be a better human, but really – whether with new people or those who know us best -
introducing the authentic you will lead not only to a better future for you, but a better future for our world.

​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.

Don’t Let a Label Be a Limitation – Use it as a Jumping off Point

A quick scan tells me that there is a whole host of online communities and self help groups out there for highly sensitive people, which, in itself is not a bad thing. But when I pick up words like “protecting yourself” and “fragile”, I want to scream from the roof tops.

I have to admit, I’ve always been pretty sensitive about being called sensitive. The term implies weakness, yet I’ve survived this world and - determined to prove people wrong - have even thrived to outside eyes.
 
Sadly that required building a hard shell around me in a bid to ‘protect’ myself. While it didn’t succeed in obliterating the essence of who I am, it completely obscured it even to my eyes; to the point of not knowing me.
 
Over the last few years I’ve set about quite deliberately dismantling the protective armour to discover what lay beneath. Layer after layer unveiled, I am now rebuilding my relationship with the world from my internal core and am truly starting to see how authentic thriving is possible.

I have discovered my body is like a finely tuned instrument, apparently more so than most, every sense I have is sensitive to all that is around it and reverberates within.

I have a deep and rich inner world that I explore asking myself all sorts of questions about life and purpose. I sense other people’s emotions and can tell if someone says “I’m alright” when they are not, I viscerally feel others’ pain and passion – even if it’s only watched on a TV screen, and I sense the same through music and art. When I spend time in nature I appreciate the intricate intelligent design of it all, and marvel at all creation.

I wouldn’t swap any of that because it is the essence of who I am and, frankly, the only experience of the world I would relish. But it does come with another side. With every sense heightened, sensory overload needs to be managed.

For example, the first thing I was aware of this morning was my partner’s rhythmical breathing as I lay contentedly amid that state between dreaming and waking up. This instantly changed as he awakened. Just as my cat’s ears prick up, my body is also on high alert, quickly tuning in to more of the sounds around; a car starting up and our neighbours putting out their bins. I’m awaiting the loud and insistent “mum!” requiring a more hastened arising than I would like.

It is mid-winter here in the southern hemisphere and the days are short, so getting up in the dark is par for the course at the moment. My ideal entry back into consciousness each day would be a gradual and steady awakening of the senses.

I like to open the curtains to slowly let in natural light and let my eyes adjust, instead I open the door to the lounge where my partner had already turned on every electrical light in the place and my world is suddenly ablaze with bright lights, my eyes scrunch in defence; it makes my insides churn and creates a viselike grip between my temples.

That is before I even talk about the smell of coffee or the mood of the other people around me or the list of tasks that require completion before we can get out the door. And because it is winter, my partner had started up the van to heat it up before setting off, so I could smell exhaust.

Suffice to say, by the time I drop off the kids each morning, I feel like I’ve survived something. Just the very fact of living with other people creates sensory overload. It wasn’t so bad when I was growing up, my parents liked things low key too, and we didn’t have 55” TV screens and 24 hours a day of streaming content to contend with.

Yet there were some highlights this morning. In taking the garbage out for collection, I stopped to smell the White Michaela blossoms on the scratty tree at the top of our driveway. I forgive that tree all it’s scratty looks with its half shed leaves, because the scent of the blossoms are just so blissful and were a welcome escape from the exhaust fumes.

Then there was the beautiful conversation with my younger daughter who, in the absence of her older sibling (who is visiting nana) was rather more grounded and calm than can be the case with her sister around. I had this lovely swell of appreciation and deep sense of love flood over me.

Funnily enough I didn’t realise there was a label for the way I am wired and some of the things I’ve found difficult until recently. While I hate labels, this one may serve a purpose, if only to have those I love understand how I experience the world and, hopefully, help others who are wired this way begin to thrive rather than just survive. 

Back in the 1990’s a psychologist called Elaine Aaron coined the terms Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) and Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). Personally I’d rather embrace the trait than label my persona, I feel we are all a bit too multidimensional for that.

“Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) is characterized by a high level of sensitivity to stimuli and reflects an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system” says Botenburg et al. “It also correlates with a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli.”

Elaine Aaron says “Inevitably HSPs are more easily overwhelmed. When the noise or stuff going on is about right and interesting for others, it’s too much for HSPs. And keeping an optimal level of stimulation – not too much, not too little – is very, very important to every creature. The sensitive ones just need ‘less’ to be comfortable.”

It’s the ‘less’ that is often not accepted or appreciated in a world that is increasingly vying for our attention though, with an acceleration of information and stimulus available. And it’s that social unacceptability that often creates low self esteem and self doubt, or even depression, anxiety, symptoms of autism, sleep problems and more physical health problems.

While sensory overload wasn’t generally an issue for me in my early home life, as soon as I entered the realms of dealing with other people and of the working world, it was often hard to feel good about myself. I remember starting a job in a recruitment office, and being seated right next to the owner of the place who was a chain smoker and sat there puffing away at his cigarettes all day. It made me feel so wretched that the first thing I did was buy a rather large extractor fan and sat it on the desk between us.

Being called things like too sensitive, whiny, anxious, unhappy and even neurotic, and having people tell me to “toughen up” or “just relax, you’re making a big deal out of nothing” was devastating. In fact it led to a whole period in my early twenties where I was diagnosed with “general anxiety and panic attacks.”

This was a defining moment in my life, and one that lies at the root of my distaste for words like fragile and protection. It taught me how my reality was controlled by my reactions. Now, while I can’t readily control the involuntary reactions of my senses, just having an awareness of what is happening makes all the difference, it helps me to control how my body is responding.

While I did not know about SPS back then, there have been moments along the way that have helped me understand that what I was experiencing was not a result of some neurosis.

For example, blue eyes are more sensitive to light than other eye colours. This helped me made sense of the migraines that – since the age of twelve – have often been triggered by bright lights. Yet, without  awareness of sensory sensitivity,  it can come across to others as whiny when I complain about all the lights getting turned on in the morning rather than the curtains being opened.

I also know my body is sensitive to all the popular stimulants like caffeine and alcohol and does not appreciate any medication stronger than Panadol, it can feel awkward to refuse such things on social occasions, especially in the face of people saying “you just need to lighten up”.

Living with others has taught me that some people need noise to drown out their thoughts so they can concentrate, but I know I need quiet so I can hear my thoughts before I can concentrate. So having music on in the house or car can be a point of contention.

Open plan office areas taught me about the perils of horrid fluorescent lighting, uncomfortable chairs, and the soup of human emotions that I was required to swim in just to say I had turned up. That is before we even talk about the endless meetings and having to look in one direction (and look interested) for long, boring sustained periods.

Literally every sense is more finely tuned. I can even get touched-out (I learned that is ‘a thing’) especially when I have kids haranguing me and wanting to cuddle up or have ‘one more hug’ at bedtime after a day of constantly giving my attention out.

Scary or violent movies and documentaries are too visceral to contemplate, and I get overwhelmed at parties, conferences (I have a strong aversion for the superficial) and at shopping malls and definitely kids indoor playgrounds.

These are all things I have known from the inside are not a result of my imagination, yet without being able to educate people more objectively about Sensory Processing Sensitvity, it has often invited many unwelcome comments and been the basis of arguments. It is true to say I was pretty defensive about the issues.

Feeling pain more acutely is another common symptom of SPS. I hesitated when I had to answer a question about that, as dealing with pain is just another part of the armour I’ve worn. I do feel pain but, just as I determinedly focused on not reacting to being tickled when I was younger, I also focused on not reacting to pain.

The reality was that I used to absorb the shock in order to not react to it, internalize it, which is just setting myself up for sickness. When I birthed my second child, I learned how to work with my body in order to feel into and release the pain.  

I just feel so much, on so many levels, and it can be draining. The world we live in can feel like a smorgasbord of stimuli set to frazzle the nerves.

Arguments that others might consider a spat or insignificant, or even just a differing of opinion, are often huge for me. When I left home my mum said “I’ll even miss our arguments”. Not me, I like things to be peaceful.

Yet I was determined not to become a victim so was always asserting my needs, and am quick to stand guard if I sense an injustice.

Then there is the dynamic in relationship with my partner who has Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) which, while sharing some similarities with SPS, also has some diametrically opposite issues to contend with. Each of those has the potential to be the source of the others’ stress, and requires us to each have understanding and respect the others needs in order for us to make the relationship work.

And, of course, there is the grand slam of challenges for someone with any kind of sensory sensitivity: parenting.

With the constant over stimulation involved, sensory overload abounds. I heard another say “I don’t like surprises and I don’t like change, and since parenting is largely comprised of just that many times in each day I get overwhelmed”. While I relate to that, just having to give my attention constantly outward rather than nurturing my inner life is the key factor in energy drain for me.

That said, when I turn back to the amazingly positive aspects of having SPS, I know it also makes me a better parent as I am more aware of my children’s needs. My ability to empathise, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation of little things, and even my visceral awareness of others’ pain and passion. All of it – and more – are the essence of who I am and the key to joy in my life.

I understand why there is a lot of advice out there about protecting our energy, as overwhelm surely drains it. But it is really more about asserting our needs than protecting ourselves. It’s subtle, but it is different. One is about operating from a strong centre core, an inner knowing and honouring of your true self, the other is about defense and armour.

My desire to help others can mean I have often put others needs before my own. But learning to put my needs first gives me more energy to give to others, using the special talents and gifts that being sensitive gives, which makes me happier and healthier.

I read that our authenticity and desire for deep, meaningful relationships, also makes those of us with sensory sensitivity more attractive to others. But the key thing to remember is that good relationships are not about giving more to others, it is about giving more to ourselves. A healthy relationship is one where both people value themselves enough to make sure their own needs are met, just as I wrote about recently in Great Relationships Happen When You Put You First.

Since writing about this journey to me I’ve been on, most of my articles speak to this issue on some level. Some of the relevant ones that spring to mind are Taking Your Own Space, Taking a Break from all that Mental Activity (which talks about strategies for dealing with stress), Step out to reach in, Meditation – the Cornerstone to Your Success, Life is in the Little Things – Finding the Extra in the Ordinary, among many more.

My daughter also has Sensory Processing Sensitivity, and I have learned it is wise to manage her activities carefully. In her first year at school her teacher wrote “she appears to move between being a very young wisp of a child to a rather demanding princess.” Even now at 7 years old, she is not capable of having play dates or doing any extracurricular activity on school days without getting completely overwhelmed and tuning out or melting down (spectacularly).

But I would hate for her to see herself as fragile, despite all that I have written in here about what it feels like to have SPS.

I’d rather she embraced her sensitivities, anchor herself from within and thrive from her centre core rather than create armour on the outside to deal with it. Just as I too now embrace it as I rise from the ashes of my previously burnt out life.

Having a strong sense of who you are, and embracing and honouring that, gives you that inner anchor. Once you have this, you don’t need the hard shell on the outside anymore, you can let it go. You don’t have to protect yourself from the world. Just prioritize your own needs and you will flourish.

If you want to find out more about SPS there’s a whole raft of information available online. Here’s a great introductory video, an overview and a test. 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.

Years ago I heard the observation “People don’t do things to you, they do things for themselves.” This means if someone is trying to take my power, it’s because they feel powerless. If they are striking out to hurt me, it’s because they feel wounded.

Thinking “poor wee me” is not an attitude that has ever served me well. Nor I believe does it serve anyone else, other than to elicit a bit of sympathy. Casting me as a victim is not just unhelpful, it’s harmful.

I don’t need to condone what another has done, or analyze why I find myself in trying circumstances, I just need to focus on what I can take out of it. Any challenge I meet is not uninvited. By that, I’m not saying I’m sitting around asking people to take a shot at me or have life serve up some stressful situations; it’s more that I’ve held fears that open up the possibility to these challenges actually occurring.

I remember many years ago being on a long-awaited beach holiday; work had been really stressful. A change in CEO had resulted in a dramatic change in my working environment, one where I felt I’d gone from being valued and included in strategic issues, to being marginalized and pushed out. So this holiday was one where I’d resolved to unwind.

I was doing a pretty good job of it - lying on the beach each day, only taking a break to go and splash around in the waves or get an ice cream - until I received a text from a number I didn’t recognise. It said something like “Heads up the boss is on the war path, someone has made a complaint about you and everyone is talking about it.”

This was in the days before devices, my little Nokia phone did texts and calls only and not from foreign lands.
Now my boss, since the CEO had put a new senior management structure in place, was someone who had previously been my peer. He was someone I regarded as having less experience than me as a people manager, and someone that I felt would be a ‘yes man’ to the CEO, rather than someone who would
advocate at the executive table for the customer experience.

I hadn’t adjusted well to this new arrangement emotionally, but had acted professionally. And now here was an accusation that put me in a position of weakness and I had absolutely no clue what was at its basis or if it was even true.

When I finally managed to get to an internet café and email my boss to ask if this was in fact true, he emailed back to say no one had spoken to him and, as far as he was aware, all was well; I should just focus on enjoying my holiday. This was easier said than done as I had, by then, had several other texts from this anonymous number purporting to be ‘an ally’ and weaving tales of gossip and treachery.

Suffice to say the rest of the holiday was a bust. I was totally consumed with what had happened. On the one hand I was worrying that there may be some basis to it, though couldn’t think of a single thing anyone would have to complain about (it was a bit like when you see a policeman and feel guilty even though you haven’t done anything). Then again, if there was nothing going on, I wanted to know who was behind the malicious texts and why they had targeted me.

There was nothing for me to do but wonder and fret and create all sorts of stories in my head and my anger grew. The holiday spiraled into chaos, a signature moment being the process of bartering for a new camera and literally screaming at the salesperson in frustration (such that it cleared the shop) as he kept changing the ballgame.

Using internet cafes, I was able to uncover that the number the text had been sent from was untraceable as it had been set up via an internet site using false details and hadn’t actually been sent from a phone. The company who facilitated this site cut off the number at once.

On return from my holiday I was relieved to find out that there had been no complaint to my boss, but I was still determined to find out who was behind it and went to the police. Ironically if I hadn’t had the number cut off from sending me further texts, the police could have investigated it more but, as it was, they could do nothing.

So paranoia abounded. It was something I inevitably discussed in confidence with my management team, each of whom was clueless as to whom it might be. But my paranoia sparked more paranoia as one of the Team Leaders then thought I suspected her and was devastated by this.

In the ensuing months a couple of staff issues came up that, having previously trusted me to deal with, my boss was now intervening. He and I were spending increasing hours discussing my actions and decisions when it came to our staff.

The whole thing had snowballed from my original reaction to the unsolicited text.

I never did find out for sure who the perpetrator was, though it was commonly believed to be someone who had been seconded to my team for a while. Even that was of no help because, as much as I racked my brains, I have absolutely no clue as to why she would have taken that action. To the contrary, the suspect was someone I valued and seemed to have a good rapport with.

In the end I could only imagine she had overheard something or other and taken it out of context, putting two and two together to get five. Even then, I have no idea what.

As I look back on this whole story as it unfolded, I can see that it was my initial resistance to ‘what is’ (in terms of the restructure and new CEO), that created my vulnerability. For whatever reason - though it will have been more to do with them than me - the perpetrator sensed that and things just spiraled from there.

While I didn’t immediately cut my losses and run, I knew it was time to move on. I could not rewind the clock back to the days I had been working with a senior team whose goals and values aligned with mine.

I had felt things had happened to me rather than being orchestrated by me, and I would think “I am a good person, why is this happening to me? I don’t deserve this.” That was indicative of my thoughts any time a change would happen that as not of my own doing- that was if I even acknowledged what was happening, often I would be too busy telling myself “this can’t happen right now.”

Out of that challenge, when I faced corporate restructures in my later career (and there were many), they no longer knocked me sideward as that first one had.

That whole challenge with the malicious texts taught me to go with the flow more, and to begin to let go of the impossible - controlling other people and controlling all circumstances. Now instead of trying to psychoanalyze each person or situations that upset me in some way, I look for what each challenge is trying to teach me; it puts me in the driving seat.

So when people come to me with their challenges I often think “What does this person need to hear right now that will be helpful?” I know it’s these moments of challenge that are the making of any one of us. Whether it’s for the better or worse is for each to determine, since it’s how we meet life’s challenges that will shape the outcome.

What is challenging you right now? And how will you meet that challenge in a way that helps you to learn and grow from it? 

​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.

Lately the phrase “let your light shine” has crossed my path several times. While I know the wisdom of those words, lately it’s evoked the question “what is my light exactly?”

It’s not that I’m lacking awareness around my strengths, it’s more that I’ve been feeling a lack of passion for anything in particular to pursue. I’ve always envied those people who knew from early on that they wanted to be or do a particular thing, whether it’s rock climbing or wrestling with the physical laws of the universe.

There have been many things in my life I’ve pursued with vigor, some successfully, some less so, but there has always come a point where flame died out, lacking any desire to keep burning.

I remember back in the early millennium, I had an industry article published about a national award I had won three years in a row for my contributions in the field of customer service (within the transport sector in the UK); it said something like “Shona Shines”. While it created many opportunities I was acutely aware that I didn’t want to claim the label of customer service strategist as ‘my passion’.

Having gone down this path, uncovering root causes for poor service, I discovered there were bigger issues to tackle. This led to the wider field of the customer experience as a whole, which in turn led to bigger issues around corporate cultures and structures and the role of the individual within those. This in its turn led to bigger questions about society’s systems and structures as a whole.

When I decided to start focusing my questions and thoughts through these articles over three years ago, my conclusion was that any change begins within each one of us. We are the ones with the power to change the world, when we change who we are being within it.

So it seems strange, having embarked on this ‘journey to me’ as I call it, while I am much clearer on who I am, I still struggle with this issue of my ‘light’ or passion.

What unlocked this question for me was rephrasing it from “what is my light?” to “what lights me up?”

That is a much easier question. In fact, when I made a list of my heart’s desires, it became obvious why I struggle with the question. The things that light me up are not activities per se, they are more subjective experiences.

What I am passionate about are things like:

• having an ‘ah ha’ moment in each day
• catching a wave of inspiration and riding it
• helping others feel into their own intuitive guidance
• assisting my children’s desire to feel their freedom and express who they are in the world
• expanding my horizons through travel and connecting in with people who live in quite different places and circumstances to mine,
• letting each person have their own truth
• having enough space to feel the inner stillness within me on a regular basis (if not consistently)
• and advocating for transparent communications, more evolved leadership and healthcare, education, government and economic systems.

Looking back, while I didn’t always have this one burning thing I wanted to pursue, I have always pursued whatever felt like the most interesting and enticing of the things before me at the time. When I look now at my list of passions, I can see why I’ve not been able to give it a label. The list, like me, is subjective and always evolving.

I think perhaps that is the most important thing, to go after the things that appeal and beckon, rather than leave them on the dusty shelves within our cluttered minds somewhere.  It really doesn’t matter if what you want to pursue is an activity or simply something that starts as a question in your head, it’s being courageous enough to go after it that is important.

So what is your list? What are you passionate about?

Once you have your list, keep pursuing those things you are passionate about. Take any opportunities that come your way to expand within them and upon them, then you will have found your light and are letting it shine. Keep following and growing the light and it will lead you through your best life.

 If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me. There’s no strings attached, I simply and truly enjoy helping where I can, click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog

It has taken me a while to pay attention to my dreams – 46 years to be precise. I’ve always felt there must be something useful in there, some point to them, but as they are generally symbolic rather than literal I hadn’t really taken much time to try and figure it out.

Given the momentary lingering of our dreams, mixed with the often harried start to the day and the lack of understanding of the symbolism, I just haven’t focused much on it until now. It seems to me, though, that dreams are a valid form of communication; a way for us to unpack (and make sense of) the experiences we’re having, if only we would pay attention.

Dreams are an unadulterated expression of how we are feeling and devoid of judgment, which makes them a particularly useful form of feedback.

Years back I remember buying a book on dreams in a vague attempt to understand them, but it felt wishy-washy and didn’t really capture the sorts of dreams I was having. At the time I was working in a career I found stressful, so it is no surprise that I used to have recurring dreams that were like various versions of The Hunger Games playing in my mind.

These were dreams of a death chase, with some form or forms of heinous creatures pursuing me in a relentless way. It is sad to say that was not unlike the wakened version of my life at the time, with corporate politics and egos at play. Of course, in my awakened state I’d tell myself all sorts of rubbish to play down the constant frustrations and feel better about my situation, but the dreams didn’t hide from the truth.

These days, thankfully, dreams like that are rare. Though with two young children to contend with, not all dreams are devoid of symbolic incarnations of something stressful!

Wide awake, in the throes of ‘life’, it is too easy to quash down how I am really feeling and just plough on from task to task. I have discovered this is no way to live though and wrote about it, most recently, in What Are Our Thought Patterns Really Doing for Us.

Ignoring how I feel about things comes at a cost, my health. From early warning signs like headaches, aches and pains, colds and chesty coughs, to full blown wake up calls like accidents and serious illness, it appears to me the way we feel about things in our life will keep percolating until we pay attention.

That’s what makes dreams useful; they give us another angle of awareness. With so many explanations for pretty much any and every kind of dream at our fingertips these days, I find there is great satisfaction in being able to quickly scan the results of a Google search to see what comes up and find something that feels right to me; message received.

There is another recurring dream I have had since childhood, though not so much these days, where I’m trying to dial a phone number and keep misdialing. An instant search on “misdialing dreams” and, voila, I have some sensible answers. It could mean I’m feeling:

• frustrated in communicating something
• isolated or cut off from others
• the need to reach out for help
• a fear of needing help and not being able to get it.

As someone who has often seemed to think a little differently to others, the top two definitely resonate with me. Though, while these dreams have stayed with me – emblazoned in my memory by the accompanying feelings of anxiety – the situations that elicited these dreams are long since forgotten.

Had I of being paying attention a bit more at the time, no doubt the self awareness would have helped to resolve issues a bit quicker.

Not all dreams are bad of course, the nicer ones are just as insightful and, even better, the good feelings they evoke stay with me long after waking up.

Last week, for example, I was dreaming that I was in my house (though it wasn’t my actual house I live in, just one I thought of as my house in the dream) and then I discovered a whole new room I’d never known was there before.

Symbolically house dreams relate to the place in which your spirit dwells (i.e. you) and new rooms indicate areas of ourselves we hadn’t noticed before; in short it’s about self-exploration and personal growth. This was interesting because – in the dream – the new room I happened upon was large and fairly empty, a drawing room that led down into a huge palatial dining room.

I recall fleetingly feeling overwhelmed as I looked into the dining room, since no end could be seen to it, so by the time I stepped into the drawing room to go and have a closer look, the entrance to the dining area was encased in glass as if to say “let’s deal with one thing at a time”.

There were many other things going on in that same dream, before stepping into the new room, I was aware the kids were running amok and – simultaneously – this huge crocodile-like creature was also on the loose. I was afraid it was going to eat my youngest child but then realised it had flat rather than sharp teeth so would probably be more interested in the house plants.

Without even looking it up, it felt like a message to me to ease up on my fears (my youngest is very impulsive and I often notice the angst I feel in relation to that).

In the past I also used to have dreams about forgotten rooms – in fact there was a recurring dream about an entire wing of the house that I kept rediscovering, which was all locked up. There was a feeling of dread that the door, once unlocked, would unleash all sorts of unwanted terror in my life.

When I had the more welcome and much nicer version of the undiscovered rooms last week, I realised I must now have cleared any fear about who I am or what could be lurking in my depths, and have cleared the space to grow.

Sometimes dreams can be multi-faceted, and may require several lines of interpretation woven together. Just take each symbol, and the prevalent feelings that stick with you, and check what each means in a way that makes sense for you.

There is no right and wrong answers when it comes to dream interpretation, each of us places different meanings on different symbols, so while a Google search will bring a variety of answers, it’s important to go with an answer that feels right to you.

The important thing is to start noticing our dreams as one of the most valid and honest forms of feedback we have at our disposal.

Over time I have come to believe that dreams are my best litmus test for what is truly going on in my life. While I have a goal to find more happiness in a day than frustration, in a waking state I am often too distracted to pay much heed to what I’m thinking or feeling. But my dreams don’t lie; they often tell me that I’m still sweating the small stuff.  

It’s a bit like if I were on a diet, and I kept snacking on things I shouldn’t and telling myself it didn’t matter it was “only a few chips”, or a “bite of chocolate”; at the end of the day, the scales wouldn’t lie. Neither will my dreams. If I am frequently doing and thinking things that are not making me happy, my dreams reflect this whether I am consciously aware of my overall emotional state or not.

So it makes good sense to me to use my dreams as a way to check in on my goals and progress towards them. They are quick to tell me when I’m heading the wrong way, and when I’m on track.

If you are like me and on quest for growth, a truth seeker (your own truths), you might just find the answers are right under your eyes – literally - when you are sound asleep. Your dreams are waiting to guide you to your best life.

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