Transformed.

Something profound happened for me yesterday. I am not sure that there are any words in existence that will do the experience justice, but I will try.

My friend Jenny, her daughter Casey, and I were in Berry about two and a half weeks ago. Berry is about an hour and a half’s drive from where we live. It is a cute little village with some powerful natural energy, and has my favourite shops in the world there: Shambhala and I have no idea what the other one is called.

We went in to Shambhala and I was drawn to a deck of cards: Kuan Yin by Alana Fairchild. A light green cover and I couldn’t tell you what else was on the front. I was really drawn to them but where I would usually just listen, the nagging financial advisor in my head told me to not be so silly because I was saving for a deposit for a home. Meh. I listened and didn’t buy the cards.

We had lunch. We laughed. We talked. We ate. We drank.

We then walked around the main street and came to my next favourite shop, more upper market than Shambhala and you can actually walk freely through (Shambhala is very overfilled – but that is its charm). On a display in the window and as soon as you walk in, deck after deck of the same cards. They drew me in at the window, they embraced me at the display. Jenny said, “Just buy them. You can’t not nourish yourself; attract the abundance by believing there is enough.”

That was all I needed to hear. I bought them.

We were at the counter and there was a promotional flyer for an Alana Fairchild Temple of Isis workshop on Saturday 2nd May in Berry. There was a discount offer on the purchase of admission if you bought two Alana Fairchild products; we thought the price was reasonable on its own. We took the flyer, contemplating its potential and left.

We stood outside, further contemplating.

We turned around and went back inside, and asked for more information, and signed up.

We would make it work.

Then life happened. No guarantor for a home loan, moving in to Lauren and Margo’s new home in Thirlmere (another cute village – no comment on the energy yet; thank God for those two though or homelessness would have been a reality in thought for a few weeks adding stress), organising the inspections of my current home, report season at work, and executions in Indonesia, earthquakes in Nepal, storms here …

So yesterday was welcome.

I am painfully shy. Many do not believe this of me, but I truly am. I am not a fan of humanity and I look weird. I am always that little bit fearful of judgement, and I dislike the cliche questions I usually receive. So these things, with lots of other people, who look normal, terrify me a little. Obviously, I too judge others by appearance and the seemingly conservative women walking through the doors yesterday at the Uniting Church Hall in Berry did nothing to assuage my fears. Nervously, we walked in.

And then Tina happened.

The lady organising the workshop, Patsy, looked at us, and I thought she wanted to know who we were, and so in my best, socially awkward presence, I announced, loud and proud, “I am Tina Meyer from Campbelltown.”

And she laughed. Grabbed me and hugged, “Hello Tina Meyer from Campbelltown!” Or did I imagine this part?

Oh brother, at any rate, mortified doesn’t even come close to how I felt.

Soldiered on. Always hard to know where to sit in situations like this. Inservices are the same. It’s like your seating choice can destroy or make the event. Needless to say, by the end we weren’t sitting where we sat at the start. And we weren’t the same as we were at the start, so that’s appropriate.

And now my words start to fail me.

Hmmm …

You don’t know this but the preceding ellipsis really did just indicate time passing with nothing being written. Part of me is thinking that I want to be selfish and hold on to yesterday for just a bit longer. Immortalising it is what words will do. And therein lies my dilemma, what if the words I ¬†use do not capture the essence of it, the reality of it, the perfection of it.

Meh. Here goes …

It opened with a beautiful Singing Bowls rendition by a woman studying called Elizabeth. Absolutely beautiful. That alone transported me into the right mindset of acceptance and trust.

Then there was a lot of explanation. About what we would physicaly be doing. The tasks in the morning session would be vastly different to the afternoon session. We would feel confronted. Alana talked about Isis and Sekhmet, Bast, Horus. The energies in the room shifted further. We moved all of the chairs (set up in a semi circle, forty five or so people facing the front; this had been the antithesis of the sitting in a circle Kum By Ya moments Jen and I had been expecting) excitedly and nervously.

Initiation has the aroma of the deep occult about it. It sets fear into the heart and mind. The power of the connotation of words. We both knew we were meant to be in Berry yesterday. So we were willing to look past this occult notion of initiation.

Realistically, all initiation is, is movement into something new, something different. A ritual formalises the movements of initiation that we all make every day upon waking. The practice of initiation sets the energy.

I cannot tell you the words that Alana used. They are in my mind but I have no access to them. Whatever she asked, probably along the lines of me accepting the initiation, my answer was a resounding yes. She marked my third eye with  organic ash. I sat and began to meditate. After everyone said yes, she came and tied white ribbon around our right wrists and said something to us about light. And we continued to meditate. Specifically upon the things that we wanted to let go of. For me, my weight is the connection I most feel ties me to my past experiences, and I want to move forward from that. I started by meditating upon letting go of bad foods. Then I realised that what connected me to food was fear.

Fear is powerful. It stops us from being who we truly are, from stepping forward with confidence, from really living our lives. In the moment I knew, within my core, that what I really needed to let go of, was fear. Fear has held me back because it has not permitted me to believe that I am worthy of all that I am worthy of. It has stopped me from accepting abundance in to my life, abundance that we all richly deserve. And whilst that hasn’t paralysed my life (because I am very very stubborn), it has not permitted me to accept all that is truly mine.

And so I meditated on letting fear go.

I made the decision to stop saying no because of fear.

To embody the practice will take time. But my first steps forward came at lunch.

I felt the ritual to be very powerful. We were given an hour for lunch. I needed to buy a crystal for one of my students ( she is an empath and struggles with the energies at school – the crystal I bought her I have used, successfully for the most part, myself – Wednesday being the exception – anger at the execution in Indonesia). I had a forehead smeared with ash. I walked proudly. Oblivious completely to the stares (Jen told me that I was oblivious; usually I am not).

When we arrived back at the hall we were told to move the chairs back temporarily to sit. Jen and I ended up next to Elizabeth. Incredible soul. Ignored other people waiting to talk to her to continue talking to us. Beautiful rich creative ideas about the potential of my move. Can’t express it in words, so …

My second test came after lunch. Moving meditation. Never heard of it. And yep, I am a qualified meditation teacher. Good work Tina!

Dancing in a room full of people (I just typed power instead of people – that is what happened but interesting that in my brain I have already substituted what it was instead of my limiting thoughts about it) without alcohol is not something I do. EVER.

We were given the option of sitting down or lying down, of not moving. My heart soared and then my mind gave my heart a string and swift kick. I remained standing. Sekhmet and Bast featured in this meditation. The two faces providing balance. I closed my eyes and danced. I did not permit fear to change my behaviour.

I loved it.

LOVED IT.

Something I had only ever done at home by myself generated power in a group.

Amazing.

And then an intense lying down meditation followed.

And then we debriefed.

I couldn’t speak. I felt zen.

I have thought I have felt zen before in my life, but never this deeply or profoundly.

Something in me has shifted.

I feel complete acceptance.

Complete faith.

Complete trust.

I am where I am meant to be.

I am doing what I am meant to be doing.

I am who I am meant to be.

Absolutely.

Processing Time

My head has been working hard for the last month or so, processing many things, some of which I do not have access to. 

My birthday is coming up. 

I generally love birthdays but the last two have only served to remind me how different I am. How alone I am. 

Not lonely but alone. I blame my 38th birthday for this. That was the birthday that changed me. I came home from a lovely dinner to reflect on and then act on my childlessness. 

Six years later I am still childless. 

And I’m not sure how I feel about that. 

I sacrificed a lot to undertake that path. And I have lost a great deal as a result. And I’m not quite sure where that leaves me. 

I’ve always felt like I’m different to other people. My life hasn’t ever really followed a mainstream path and for the better part of my life I have been grateful for that. I have done a lot of things; achieved a lot of things; created a significant life for myself. 

And I do acknowledge that I have been mother to many. 

After my 41st birthday I stopped organising birthday celebrations for myself. Very unusual for me but I didn’t feel like I had much to celebrate. By my own choice. I’m weird. 

I’m not married. I’m childless. I don’t own property (yet). I’ve been in my school for a long time (people have said that I’m too scared to move and fail to understand that I am just, most of the time, happy there – still learning, still growing, still making a difference – so why must I leave). I’ve travelled. I’ve written. I’ve done many things; learned many things. I feel deeply. And I give way too much. 

Usually to the wrong people. 

I’ve almost accepted my weirdness. 

Almost. 

Liz Gilbert posted about shame this morning. Last night I watched Brene Brown’s TED talk on vulnerability, connected to shame. 

As much as I have lived my own life and been very authentic throughout the vast majority of that pursuit, which has yielded great fulfillment, and funnily this sentence now needs to change but I can’t delete what I’ve written. Aha. Epiphany. I have spent most of my life fulfilled in service. And happy. Blissfully. 

I have also experienced extreme depression, been suicidal countless times (none recently – in 2008 I painstakingly prepared my death and organised my life and only stopped the process when I realised someone would have to find me and that would cause trauma to them), but have accepted all of that as part of the process, my process on my journey throughout my life. 

And whilst I’ve always held strong to doing what I feel called upon to do, I still feel guilt sometimes for who I am. Shame. I don’t live a normal life and I’m not a normal person or teacher or writer or healer. And whilst I am good with that inside of myself, the older I become, the more shame I feel that I have not been normal. 

Devastatingly tragic. 

And funny. 

Childlessness has forced me to appraise myself and my life along a continuum of normal that I have never subscribed to – NEVER. In fact, that I have intentionally flouted for most of my life. And the last two years, since I lost connection with a soul mate, have left me feeling lost, disconnected and broken. 

Epiphany after epiphany this morning lol. 

One of the reasons I haven’t written much recently is that I’ve had minimal clarity in my thoughts; they’ve been swirling aimlessly trying to roost after consuming too much Red Bull (my thoughts, not me – I don’t touch the dangerous stuff). I feel like that is reflected here. 

I think the point that I was supposed to reach this morning is that none of it matters. None of it. It doesn’t matter that I’m childless or different. It really doesn’t. As long as I live my life, not just exist, and as long as my life is rich. And my internal life is very rich. My external life lacks balance – yep, still trying to rein that balance in. Have I spelt rein correctly. I don’t think so. Goddamn I used to have flawless spelling. There just isn’t enough time in each day to do all that I want to do. 

I think my childlessness will scar me. Many things have in my lifetimes. But I tried. I think there is more that I could have done but I wasn’t able to at the time and I’m at peace with that. I think that maybe I was just meant to try. 

I think I’m meant to do lots more in my life too. My head keeps returning me to my idealistic 15 year old self. I think that there are children in Africa and Nepal that I am supposed to meet. Not yet but soon. Other places to visit. And I’ve almost successfully conquered the fear regarding those adventures that have kept me reined in (again with that word. Why does the brain select words which create uncertainty in its own peace). Should there be a g or is that the one where we are in power. MFC! Exasperation. And I can’t google it because I’ll lose my flow. Nuts. 

I need to write my list. I need to set more goals. I need to say no to things that don’t fit me anymore. Work to do. 

Gotta love holidays. 

I’ve also come up with the first few chapters of a new book. Just need to start writing them outside of my head. 

PS. Hours later I find the following image on Facebook. Timing. 

  

Striving for more

As most of you are aware I have been teaching for twenty two years. Most days I love my job but there are moments that make me question how much longer I can continue. Those moments have not really occurred this week; they were last week lol. 

This week I have had great learning moments for myself. All of our year groups are completing speeches at the moment. My Year 8s are writing about their favourite and least favourite characters from Elie Wiesel’s Night (memoir of the Holocaust – a must read), Year 10 are speaking about Conformity using The Freedom Writers and Year 11 are speaking about Journeys

We have viewed speeches and made notes on what worked in those speeches to make them effective, content and manner. We built the foundation, a strong foundation. 

And then my kids panicked. 

And I realised that nowhere in these speeches was it suggested that they talk about their experiences in these areas. And the personal is what makes speeches work. It makes each speech unique and engaging. And so I told them to include the personal and connect the texts and techniques within all of the personal. 

And then they really panicked. 

So I asked them to trust me and I told them that I understood how scary it was to reveal our true selves in front of so many people and then I promised them that they would be safe; that anyone that bullied them or made comments would be killed and the bodies disposed of. 

And they heard me. 

And then they were asking me to proofread what they had so far. 

And they got it. Really got it. 

And I told them how good they all were. 

And now I’m excited to hear them next week. 

A pretty good series of moments after last week’s terror. 

How sad it is though that our society has not provided the support for our kids to feel safe and secure I being their authentic selves. 

What have we done? 

Let’s fix it!