Shifting

Uluru. No words. Needs to be experienced by the heart. No words, no photographs, no videos will do it justice.

Walking today and three spots really drew my attention.

1. Sacred Women’s Spot. A request for no photographs to be taken in that area. I lay my hands on the rock. Instantly a vibration, a deep murmuring was felt through my hands. The rock was cold; it’s pulse was strong. An Aboriginal woman appeared to me. Bare chested, large, round face, red skirt, grey hair, laughing eyes. Beautiful in ritual and authenticity. I came back here to write.

2. Men’s Cooking Space. A low cave entrance, fire darkness across its roof. A young Aboriginal boy, possibly fifteen or sixteen, curly black hair, observing us all with a smile. He carried a spear. His face was painted. He, too, wore red.

3. Kantju Gorge. Still. Very still. Quiet. Reverent. Austere. Peaceful. I came back here to write. My new friend was there already. I offered her a sound session with the forks. I felt called to use them in this space. She said that she saw young Aboriginal children playing. The forks silenced the tourists. Power.

Three short pieces (not very good; words do no justice to the moments).

I.

A mother’s heartbeat

pulsing through my outstretched fingers.

Life force:

Breathing for me

Breathing as me

feeling the power.

Release –

Coughs echo and bound through my chest,

releasing all that has been caught,

feeling all that can be felt –

Liberation.

Power.

Wellness.

Sacred women’s space.

II.

A lowly cave entrance

Shrouded

Marked

by two trees

reaching away

to beckon all within.

Mysteries to share

and secrets to tell

the ancient winds divulge all.

Close your eyes.

Still your heart.

Listen …

The winds carry ancient songs

calls of love

and calls of worship

for all that lies here

today, yesterday, tomorrow.

All time is one.

As your foot treads,

so does another’s,

together,

in unison,

now.

III.

Darkness …

of the mind, the soul, the cave.

Deep breaths …

transcending the core,

and lighting the way.

Flickers of sun

glance off fire marked walls,

hands are held,

hearts beat as one:

Ceremony. Ritual. Celebration.

Toes sink into red sand

covering nails and sticking to beds.

Dark eyes smile.

Cool earth, cool walls, cool rock.

Sacred space.

Sacred lives.

Sacred dreams.

The Lesson I Refuse To Learn

I am too wise for my own good, she says with a chuckle.

I am able to understand lessons, able to know that they are to be learned, trust that they will be, think I have learned them, except for one in particular, that sort of extends into two. Might just be one. Wise, humph.

I taught in schools for four days last week. As a casual working in a school, you are generally on all day, and in primary schools, all day plus a duty, giving you about 50 minutes off during the day. And in teaching, when you are with the kids, you are on the whole time. There is no break or processing time.

I also ran my business every day, and was almost grateful for the cancellations this week. My business hours, with travel, are long. I generally start between 3 and 3:30 and arrive home by 8:30, a couple of nights I finish by 930. And all day Saturday, seven clients. I love my business; it does not feel like work unless I am working in a school too many days.

By last night I was exhausted. I was asleep on the lounge early and slept straight through to 7:30 this morning (I’m usually awake by 6/6:30). I had no desire to get up and fought with Sammy for just a few more minutes taking me to 8:30.

It will be a slow day here. I’m being kind to myself. That lesson I have learned. I will only do what I want to do.

The lesson I haven’t learned is balance. But, I have learned that in my case, that lesson extends from trust. I can only practice balance when I trust.

I possess a fear of not having enough money to live on. School holidays are coming and I am travelling just before and just after the holidays (bad planning), and am focusing energy into fear that I will not have enough money to pay bills. No sooner do I earn money that it feels like it is gone, so I keep working when it is offered because there have been so many times this year when it wasn’t offered.

And so, because I fear I have not enough, financially (I am abundant in riches everywhere else in my life), I seem to never have enough. Funny, I know that the energy we feed is the energy we receive. I exhaust myself fighting against the fear lol.

I never really possessed this fear/lack of trust when I was teaching because I had a stable income. I hope to leave teaching permanently so this is a lesson I must learn (and to do that, I probably need to remove the pressure I put on myself).

So, I am working myself into the ground. And, I am not feeling the liberation that should come from that, because there is no balance. Learning to trust is difficult. I trust the voices I hear that tell me it will all be fine, but struggle to let go and release into that.

With the exception of last night, I have been meditating every night.

Meh.

I am very quiet today, very still. There is no panic or fear. I am too tired lol. I am happy in my stillness. I am not sad. I am grateful for a rest day. And, I am grateful that I head to Uluru on a road trip/meditation retreat on Wednesday. And I trust that everything that needs to be done before I leave, will be done. Even though I am working again tomorrow.

A cycle of unnecessary thought. I think I need to go back to my chanting of abundance mantras. I didn’t feel this fear as acutely then.

There we go, asked and answered. I am truly a work in progress lol.

Dominant Culture Privilege

You know, it’s very easy to sit back and judge. It’s probably the easiest thing in the world to do. Even easier to sit and judge from your own perspective, your own context, and not give time to a different perspective.

We are all guilty of this. Including me. And, regrettably, I continue to be despite my best efforts to be a better and less judgemental, more open, person.

For all of my youthful years I celebrated Australia Day on 26 January. I am, and always have been, in principle, a proud Australian. I am not always proud of my countrymen’s behaviour, choices and attitudes, but I love Australia and the potential it offers for an amazing life.

At some point though, in my celebration of Australia Day, I hit a point of realisation, as I became better educated, that that particular day was a day that marks a period of time that Australians today should not be proud of. For our first people, our Indigenous brothers and sisters, it marks a horrific turning point in their collective history.

The start of a genocide, not just of people, but of language, culture, beliefs, tribal systems and hierarchies, their entire way of life and way of knowing was attacked. Today, we still see the impact of this, and statistics validate the argument that there is a significant gap between the success rates in education of the dominant culture to the indigenous culture.

The Stolen Generations, as one example only, is not something restricted to the past. The forcible and government mandated removal of children from their biological parent is something that occurred during my lifetime. The effects of this still impact an entire generation of people.

And so, I stopped celebrating. I stopped attending barbeques, stopped listening to the hottest hundred, stopped participating in Invasion Day. At the time, most people didn’t get it. Today, more and more people are starting to express the same sentiment.

I don’t mind being different when I am standing in my truth.

In Australia, we pride ourselves on the ideal of inclusivity. I don’t believe that we are. I think we are deluding ourselves. We may once have been, but even this is highly doubtful to me. Inclusivity exists only for the dominant culture.

As a child of migrant parents, one German, in the seventies and eighties, at school, post WWII, I remember being bullied for being a “kraut” and kids would chant “Sieg Heil” at me.

What dicks.

But, as a child, I was told I was different; there was no inclusivity here. And, I only knew Australia. I was born here. This was my home. As an adult who chose blonde hair, I had other adults inform me that I could not possibly understand racism; I belonged to the dominant, blonde haired, Australian culture.

As a high school teacher with interesting ideals, pedagogy and methodology, I have always felt marginalised. I have never quite belonged because I have never embraced the status quo; it didn’t work for me. So, I found teaching not very inclusive too.

What I have learned from all of this, plus more, is that until we have walked in the shoes of another, or made serious attempts to empathise with the perspective of another, we are engaging in dominant culture privilege.

Just because the majority may think it, doesn’t make it right or true or inclusive. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t change or revise or grow. When one person does not feel included, we cannot argue that we are an inclusive democracy.

Do I even need to connect marriage equality to this argument. No question mark. Seriously, Australia, wake up. Dominant culture privilege.

And, the rights of people with disability. I know a child with Autism who is being deliberately bullied at a local Catholic high school by a mob of his peers, to the extent that he is expressing extreme anxiety and suicidal tendencies, whilst the school continues to argue that they can’t do anything about it. Dominant culture privilege.

We are so ego based that we fail to focus on what is in the collective best interests. We don’t want to ‘lose’ that which is sacred to us, but we are happy to deprive others of the same.

Time to evolve, to ascend, to be better because we know better.

Sleep evades me

I would like to see the eclipse. I am grateful for the technology that ensures that I will. I can’t sleep. I’m just not tired. I have felt sick for a week, but today I felt it shift. I feel calmer, more centred, more grounded, more blissful.

I had a moment earlier tonight. My book is constantly on my mind. It hasn’t felt quite right yet. My writing is flowing and it’s okay, but I think I lacked courage to write the book I am supposed to write. Tonight I heard the call and remembered to heed the call.

It was forecast, this book, years ago. A book with a healing paradigm to help heal trauma, of any kind. Using my healing plan.

Yes. That is the right framework.

And, so, I can’t sleep. I am too tired to write. I will meditate.

Last night in meditation before sleep, my room lit up with yellow lights. It felt so real. My work took me to India to heal families. But it wasn’t the frenetic reprogramming it has been; it was calmer. I was there in soul only. My body was allowed to sleep. I think that’s where I have been going wrong.

I have crazy ideas that make complete sense to me. Thankfully, also to some of the people I have collected. There is a different world 🌎 or space out there. I believe strongly that utopia can and does exist. We are fighting to hold it, and we will win.

Dark can only remain strong until light eclipses it. The rebirth is now. The union of sun and moon, of all polarity, duality, difference, ends soon. A new wave is coming. It is time.

I so wasn’t going to do this, but

I am absolutely disgusted that we have a postal plebiscite to determine whether all Australian citizens deserve basic human rights. I honestly cannot fathom how the majority of Australians want everyone to have the right to get married, yet our elected representatives refuse to vote for it in Parliament and do the job we elected them to do: represent us.

What is with this. And, what on earth is wrong with people that they honestly believe that giving everyone the right to marry someone they love is going to impact their life.

And, I do not want anyone to explain it to me, because realistically, there is no logical premise in existence that will convince me you are right. All the plebiscite is currently achieving is getting young people to enrol (so that the next government of Australia will not be this fascist regime; silver lining), marginalizing people and communities, and inciting ignorant bigots to speak their hateful vitriol.

Grrrrrr … so annoying.

A Spiritual Journey

Just a quick one. Illness has taken hold of me. Lol.

1. I have been struggling to trust the universe with regards to money. I have been working so hard but money comes in and goes out. Trust is hard. I’m now sick, laughing at myself. A black feather made its way into my house. Just yesterday I was thinking, I never find feathers.

Okay. So you were listening and you were there. Black feathers represent healing and letting go in trust.

Yep.

2. I found a little picture thing on Facebook and a friend’s name kept being repeated, with urgency, in my head. I sent it to her. She said the timing was perfect; she needed to hear it. I’m sure she doesn’t believe it, but she did hear it.

The universe works in mysterious ways.

I trust.

I think that’s why one of my all time favourite movies, and I watch it every year, is Miracle on 34th Street. Faith. Trust. Santa is real.

Congestion

I have a blocked head and sore throat today; feeling shocking but laughing at myself through it.

A friend of mine just told me that I need to stop making myself sick so that I have to value myself. She is so right. A hard pill to swallow: truth.

Sore throats represent communication and congestion represents unresolved emotions. My life is too busy. I love working afternoons and into the evenings because I have the days. However, working for yourself isn't as stable an income as someone paying you, the same amount, regularly.

I am struggling emotionally with manifesting financial freedom; I am continually worried that bills won't get paid. I trust the universe but possibly not myself lol. So realistically, not really trusting at all. I need to work on this.

And on the value thing too.

Man. Did I mention I'm sick 😜🤣

Making It Real

I have been doing a LOT of reading lately. I am trying to manifest abundance, regularly set and stick to intentions, and mostly, trusting the universe to break connections to my old life. I do not want to go back to the life I lived that was not really any sort of happy life.

Much easier to say than do. And, I'm a nerd. I don't like getting things wrong.

I know that I have to stay the course; what I feed, I create.

I want my healing business to succeed. I want people to feel safe enough to embrace the life that waits for them. I want the same for myself.

I want to be a published author. I want financial freedom so that I can live this life without the constant worry of money and making ends meet.

I am grateful for everything that the universe has already supplied to me to empower this vision.

I had a test of all of this last night. I have a practise healing session today, postponed from last Monday because I was exhausted after working in a school as well as with all of my clients. I also received two offers of casual work. I declined both, putting the healing session and my client first, even though I know she would understand if I had to postpone again.

I went to sleep debating whether I had made the right choice. My savings are gone. The only money I am bringing in is from my tutoring business. I use it for food, petrol, and in the next fortnight, it will have to pay all of my fortnightly bills too. This is overwhelming.

I woke up this morning at 7; the natural time my body wakes. But for work, I need to be up by 630. Interesting in itself. Work makes me go against my body's natural rhythms. I opened my emails, only one, and Reid Tracy's Hay House newsletter was there. He wrote that the distinction between dreamers and successful people, is that successful people take action. That's it, they take action.

I have chosen to interpret that, in line with feeding that which I want to see thrive, as having made the right decision. For today. I have been offered work later in the week; I have accepted that single day. It makes next week's target more do-able.

We shall see. Any which way, I'm about to learn a lesson lol.

Trusting is not easy. This is the first step.

The Darkness

I think one of the hardest things to deal with from being abused is the feeling that you're never quite good enough. When you are young and another person treats you like you are worth nothing, and your power is stripped from you, it's very hard to take that power back and get those feelings of worth reinstated.

I have two clear memories of sexual abuse. One of these has been with me since my late teens and has never shifted; there's not much of it but enough for me to still feel a pang of ick when I recall it. The son of family friends was playing Hide'n'Seek with us. We hid in one of the bedroom's wardrobes. It was dark. And, you know, stuff happens.

Yep. Stuff happens. I'm at peace with it but am struggling to write what that stuff is. There is that fear present. Not of him but of judgement from others, of someone saying, that's not abuse and you're making something out of nothing.

Maybe I am. Maybe I did. I don't think so.

Because it impacted me. In the context of my childhood and my life, it changed me. I was never the same afterwards. I was very young, and the touching down there violated a part of me. I couldn't tell anyone. I lost my voice. I had never really felt safe before and I definitely didn't feel safe after.

I always felt that there was more. There was a way that one of the adult family friends always made me feel when he looked at me: vulnerable, uncomfortable, undressed. A horrible feeling when it isn't coming from someone you love or choose to be intimate with. Last year, during a healing session (I blogged about this at the time), I had a video reel of the sexual abuse playing through my head. That included penetration and all over grossness. Again, I was very young.

By the time this one was fully revealed to me I had completed so much personal work on my own healing, reclaiming my voice and standing in my truth that it barely impacted me emotionally. If anything, for me, it validated how I had felt all of those years.

Neither of these situations was one-off. And I don't think they were the only ones. But, I'm not sure. And I don't think it really matters. The impact was made. I needed to heal that. I'm happy with the knowledge that I do have. I don't need or want more.

We are all very different. What one person can handle, another might find completely devastating. I think that's okay. We all have our own path to walk. And, in our own time.

When I was at uni, away from home and my family, my indicator behaviours became more pronounced. I became obsessive compulsive with cleaning. I was cleaning the house from top to bottom every morning, manically. I stopped answering the phone; okay on its own, but as I listened to it ring out, and landlines ring forever, I was gripped by absolute terror. I became reclusive and shied away from any physical human contact. I started eating really badly and quite gluttenously (hello future weight problem) attempting to shield and nurture myself all at the same time. And, I started arguing unreasonably and without any flexibility in my tutes at uni; I needed everyone to hear me. Flashbacks were coming at random times.

I was sliding between mania and depression. I wanted to hide and be seen, I wanted control and wanted to be looked after. Contradictory behaviours that were driving the sanity bus straight to insanity.

I had majored in Psychology and knew enough to research the behaviours indicators of sexual abuse. I listed them. Made an appointment with a local sexual abuse specialist counselor. Turned up, with my list, and matter of factly announced that I was sure I had been sexually abused, could she please look at my list and validate that for me.

She was amazing. She smiled, read my list, passed it back, and started a dialogue neither validating or denouncing my claims. With her support, I started unpacking my behaviours and my memories and owning them all. She empowered me to see that I had choices, and reminded me that healing was a process, and a long, arduous one.

And, then she went on maternity leave and my professional support stopped for a time.

It was only through owning my perceptions of my childhood sexual abuse that I was able to move forward, very slowly. I started to speak my truth. The hardest thing was telling my mum. She validated my claims, but that opened a whole other can of worms for me. More on that later.

There were many dark times during the next, close to ten years, I'd say. My twenties became marked by trying to work myself out and get better. I couldn't see me reaching my thirtieth birthday; I was sure I would be dead by then.

I drank a lot in my mid to late twenties, started casually using some low level drugs sometimes, and wanted to walk into the ocean and not come out more times than I can count.

More on all of this later.

But, I survived. I still didn't think I was worth very much, I didn't like myself very much, I was doing more and more for others at my own expense, I was bitterly unhappy, fleeing from situations that challenged me in all of my relationships, working hard to not commit to any people, and succeeding, but I survived.

Sigh. What a journey through darkness.

Sexual abuse: the gift that keeps giving.

Know Your Worth

I came across this TED Talk this morning. I love TED Talks. It resonated with me on many levels. It's focus is business, but realistically, it resinates even deeper than that. It resonates on a level that forced me to focus, realistically, on my own self too.

"Doubts and fears are normal, but they don't define our value …"

Well, they shouldn't define our value; I fear that we might let them though.

https://www.ted.com/talks/casey_brown_know_your_worth_and_then_ask_for_it/up-next?utm_campaign=social&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_content=talk&utm_term=business#t-255263