Trusting the Flow

I’ve attended every yoga class this term. That’s a minor miracle for me. Usually, by now, I would have become sick.

Not this term.

I’ve meditated almost every night. As a result, my deep sleep percentage is rising. I also have more energy every day.

This week, after Sunday’s minor implosion with massive purging, my perspectives have shifted. It’s like I shook off everything that has been holding me back. Sunday was hard, but needed to happen.

I woke on Monday, liberated. An easiness in my steps with a singing heart. I’ve had an amazing week.

I’ve stopped worrying about money. I have minimal stress. I feel fantastic. And the energies are flowing. I’ve loved working and feel so blessed to be creating the life I want to be living.

My business is thriving; my waiting list is surging. My intuition is at full strength and I’m trusting the signs. Ooh, and embracing opportunities.

Because I removed my self-imposed shackles, I am embracing and loving life. I no longer want to be small. I’m ready to shine. I am shining.

I am not controlled by my past or by distorted self- perception. My writing is flowing and my book is writing itself as a result. I’m learning, growing, becoming wholly me in every instant.

I’m not looking back. Eyes are pointing forward whilst my soul is very much present in the moment.

Gratitude.

A Very Quiet Week 

Warning: further on in this post there are potential triggers for survivors and victims of childhood sexual abuse, and their parents. 
Between the business and casual teaching, I have had a work filled week which has permitted not much of anything else. But it’s been a calm and soul filling week. 

The kids at the school I am working a lot at are getting to know me and I am getting to know them. I like the staff I work directly with and am becoming a little emotionally connected. I have some blocks coming up too. 

But the exciting news is that tomorrow I leave for the US. In forty eight hours or so I will be reunited with two of my tribe (from our meeting in India last year) and I am so excited. Nervous – I hate being in the way (a value thing) – and excited. I can’t wait to be in their space and share energy with them. 

And the following week I head to Las Vegas for a friend’s wedding. And we are getting tattooed at Pussykat Tattoo Studio. And then she gets married and then I go to the Grand Canyon and then I fly home. A whirlwind trip incorporating time in two places I never thought of going to. 

This is what my gap year/mid life crisis is about: exploring life’s potential and trusting that where I am drawn to, I am meant to be. 

I have found a stillness within me. I’m meditating more and there is a calm in my mind and life. I am finding it infinitely easier to be and to exist for sustained periods of time in the present moment. I talk to my fear, to the odd pop of anxiety, to acknowledge it and then let it go. As a result, I am enjoying the things that I do because I am wholly present in them. 

Teaching is my means to an end. It pays the bills. My business, my study and my writing is my soul work. These light me from within and bring me home. 

I have always struggled to find inspiration and creative freedom to write whilst working, until now. During the week a block that I have found whilst writing my novel was lifted and I have been able to write in small chunks of time, at lunch, between clients, wherever I can, and it has just oozed out of me. 

I am at peace. I have found a type of balance. For now. Interestingly, I’m not taking a laptop with me on my travels – iPad yes, phone yes, laptop no. I hate taking it out of my bag continually at security checkpoints and don’t use it enough to justify it. I will use my phone and transfer it when I get home. 

My novel is about a teenage girl who is raped at a party. In the course of processing it, she learns more about herself, her friends, her family, and the world, than she ever wanted to know. It’s been easy to write at times and more difficult at others. I’ve been researching and have decided to include her mother’s perspective because the role of the mother, whilst pivotal, is never really explored. 

I think my recent experiences of helplessness – through the issue that resulted in the investigation last year – will enable me to empathise with the role of mother in these circumstances – the paralysis, the fear, the not wanting to open a hornet nest, etc. I will obviously also research in other ways. 

If you are the mother or father of a child who has been raped or sexually abused, I would love for you to write to me about your experiences if you feel that you can – not the specifics of the situation necessarily, but definitely your emotional/psychological journey. If you can

Our children live in such an unsafe and disconnected world, I fear for them. Manchester’s events rocked all of us during the week. Targeting young people specifically is a very cruel strategy. But when I reflected further, we always have targeted young people, just not as noisily or blatantly. 

The number of kids in care, or who should be, is ridiculous. The number of kids with parents who work so much they aren’t really present, grows. The number of kids subjected to sexual abuse, physical violence, neglect and emotional abuse, grows. CASA state that 20% of women and 10% of men have reported non-penetrative sexual assault occurred before they turned sixteen, and these numbers are significant disproportionate for indigenous adults. 

Childhood sexual abuse really has become and has stayed a silent epidemic. The long term impact of sexual abuse incapacitates adults, which impacts society. It is an issue that requires a higher social profile because it needs to stop. 

I know, am blessed to know many, and be, a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I’m not whole. I am close to being whole. It has taken, and continues to take, effort and work to maintain emotional and psychological health. At forty six, the impact is significantly less on my life now than it used to be. I have worked hard and for a long time. 

I love that practice, I think Chinese, where the cracks in a bowl are filled with gold – a beautiful metaphor for survivors of trauma. It is our cracks that make us vulnerable to breakage but when filled, make us more resilient and more beautiful than we otherwise would have been. 

Yep. A quiet week but apparently not so quiet in my mind. 

Namaste 🙏🏻🦋

I Love Lucy

I ended the third month of my gap year with an oracle reading from Lucy Cavendish. I usually won’t get readings because I firmly believe that we know the answers ourselves. In times of transformation though, I like confirmation or clarification. And that’s why I booked to see Lucy. 

Well, that was one reason. 

In my early twenties I started reading New Age stuff. Whilst reading Dawn Hill’s fourth book, I became excited. There was a chapter in it describing the person’s religion and all of a sudden I felt home; I had found a name for everything I believed in. It brought, after the excitement, a deep calm and joy that still exists today. 

I started reading everything I could get my hands on and entered Scott Cunningham’s world. As much as I usually shy away from labels, I found this one very empowering: Wiccan. I was a Wiccan. 

It was the nineties. The New Age and alternative religions were flourishing. The stigma was great and stereotyping rampant. I was a proud Wiccan. I didn’t care. I wasn’t alive to convert or indoctrinate others; I just wanted to live my life my way. 

Enter Lucy. 

Lucy Founded and edited the first magazine I ‘subscribed’ to: Witchcraft. I lapped up every edition. It empowered me, and I’m sure, many other solitary practitioners, by building a community of sorts. And community, at its most ideal, let’s us know that we don’t travel alone. 

The magazine eventually folded and I kept on my path. 

The year before last I found Global Contact in Berry. It’s a beautiful esoteric shop owned and managed by Patsy. And Patsy organises readers and teachers from a variety of disciplines to teach or facilitate workshops. 

Last year I signed up for Oracle Reading presented by Lucy. I had forgotten that Lucy had concocted Witchcraft. I read for friends but didn’t trust myself or my guides enough to not use the books; this day annihilated that habit. 

And I was so impressed by Lucy’s calm, gentle yet empowered presence. So I jumped at the opportunity of a reading. 

She did not disappoint. 

Since I could write, I wanted to be a writer. This gap year is partly to find out what my next steps are as well as to use the time to write. Teaching, in some ways, was supposed to fund my writing career. Yes, I was naive. 

The reading enabled Lucy to verbalise my ideal life. I welled up as my dreams poured from her mouth. 

“You are a story teller. That is your role.”

A cottage, surrounded by books, homely with the pets, happy, inspired working, a frugal life. But, my cottage. 

Yes. That is how I have always pictured my best life. 

But I don’t finish anything. I get scared. 

I am looking to my future and my hand has let go of teaching but my feet are still mired to it. And that is okay but it will change. And I need to let it/make it do just that. 

I will read my words in libraries. 

Lucy is not the first reader to envision this. My guides have told me this before. I listened then sort of – it gave me courage to take leave for this year. This time I need to make it happen. 

No excuses. Trust. 

On the way to tutoring, after the reading, my creative mind took over and inspiration ambushed me. Today, after cleaning, I will write. 

I am excited. 

As I said to Lucy as I thanked her, she has given me permission to give myself permission to be all that I have ever wanted me to be. What a beautiful gift! 

My friend Mel had a reading before me and we quickly met up in a cafe to exchange summaries. She texted me last night to say that my energy shifted entirely from before to after the reading and time with Lucy. I was buzzing. 

I guess that’s what happens when we are given permission to pursue our dreams; we become alive. 

What a blessing: to live whilst breathing. 

Reemergence of the Writer

The longer I am on leave, the more I feel the writer coming back to me. She is deep down inside me, peeking out occasionally to see if it is safe to come out. The desire to sit for hours, lost in the world created by words, enchants and calls to me. 

I love my business ideas. I miss my classroom. But I am really starting to feel the potential of writing. 

It is what I wanted to do from as early as being able to make letters and read sounds. 

I have always had excuses, some legitimate. 

Maybe this time is really about developing this. 

Maybe I need to breathe and stop trying to control my transition lol. 

My Writing Day

One of the most annoying parts of moving house is establishing everything. I tried to organise everything so that I wouldn’t have to take much time away from work. Especially after being so sick a couple of weeks ago.,

Imagine my frustration when I received a phone call from my new internet service provider and found out that if I wanted internet I would have to be at home between 8 and 12 tomorrow. 

How do you plan a day around that?! No Saturday call outs. Seriously. Frustration. Guilt. More guilt. 

Until … One of my colleagues suggested I change my perspective. She asked if there was anything I would want to do with a free and healthy day. 

Write. Garden. 

And so I will. 

Start organising the vegetable garden and then spend the day writing. 

I am SO excited.