Wake-up call

Last night I made a surprise admission. 

There was nothing pre-meditated about it either. 

The words seemed to just find their way out of my mouth.

"I think I've become a bitter and ungrateful person."

My husband's reply:  "You'd better not be! I don't wanna live with someone like that!" 

I could've been offended by his comment but I wasn't - I could hear the humour in his voice and knew this was his way of trying to get me to lighten-up. We've been together long enough for him to know how terribly hard I can be on myself.

My response: " How do you think I feel? I have to live with me all the time! It's alright for you - you get to go to work and be away from me for periods of time. I don't! I'm stuck with me!"

We both laughed. It was funny - but it was also true.

We cannot escape ourselves.

My admission may have been a little harsh, but I've become very aware of the nature of my thinking and there are times when the inner critic just will not let up. 

Where has my compassionate heart gone? I wondered. The me that understands that we are all human and doing the best we can at any given time. That me is kind and knows to look beyond the superficial to the suffering that aches to be seen and heard. 

When I am that me I am much more gentle, grounded, available - to others as well as myself. I feel connected and yet am able to flow more easily with the ever-changing nature of life and the people I inhabit it with. Gratitude comes, and not from the material goodness I have but from the experiences that life provides me with that enable me to love.

This was the me I wanted to be more of. This me was much nicer for me to spend my days with - no need to try and escape from  that me.

I wanted to wallow for a while, in the sorrow and regret that I felt, so I did. But soon after I fell safely into sleep, knowing that today was just a night away and that I had the chance to wake-up and do it different.

Feeling my way

January: the month that wreaks of promise and possibility, of hope and wonder, excitement and delight at what the coming year may bring, is almost over.

And I'm not ready for it to be! I'm not ready for February! 

Because with it comes a creeping in of all that was. The bright new year is well and truly over and what settles in is life as we knew it - nose to the grindstone stuff. Days are marked out by dates and deadlines, routine, structure, to-do lists, in-boxes, productivity, aaaaggghh!! 

Then comes the rut. The spontaneity and life that effortlessly sustained us in January as a result of seeing the world through optimistic eyes is replaced with getting stuff done, as soon as not really humanly possible. Life becomes ho-hum again. Its get down to business time.

But I don't want to!

Actually, let me clarify that. 

I do want to - I do want to get down to business. I do want to get stuff done. I do want some kind of routine to my days. I do want to tick things off my to-do list. I do want to be productive.

But not at the expense of fun, freedom and creativity. Not this year.

No. This year I'm going to do it different. I want to do it different.

This year I'm not just going to focus on what I want to achieve; I'm going to focus on how I want to feel.

This morning when walking Harvey I realised how lacklustre I'd become. The 'new year feelings' I described earlier had worn off and I was left with a sense of apathy. The excitement and interest that was directing my thesis was vanishing and everything was looking grey.

I don't want to feel like this! I thought. Needing a pick-me-up I searched my ipod Audiobook list and stumbled onto exactly what I didn't know I needed to hear.

It was Danielle LaPorte's Desire Map Daily.

She talks about chasing goals and how we yearn and hope and wish that we will be fulfilled when we reach them. But, she explains...

"You're not chasing the goal,
you're chasing a feeling you hope reaching the goal
will give you."

She believes this kind of achieving is backwards, and that it's burning us out. I'd like to add that it can lead to feelings of emptiness, confusion and stuck-ness, none of which we want to feel!

So what do we do instead?

Danielle suggests we get clear on how we want to feel in our life - identify what she calls our core desired feelings -  and then we base our intentions on them.

She says, "Not only do we have to put our feelings at the heart of our ambitions, we have to pursue our desires in a way that is life-affirming rather than soul-depleting."

Yes results matter, but what is the driving force behind your goals? Her answer: your core desired feelings. And once we identify them we can use them to make more powerful choices, daily.

Of course, this Desire Map stuff is not new to me - I first heard about her work early last year, and was so impressed I bought the book! But it lived on the shelf ever since. Until today.

I definitely don't want to feel this listless, uninspired, lethargy any more. It's time to get in touch with what I want to feel - what my soul is yearning for, what my heart truly desires and to start living.

A Hell-ish journey

Forgive me friends and fellow travellers for my rather long absence - I've been in holiday-mode. And I've had a hard time getting out of it! 

A lot has happened since I last posted a post - we've had a visit from Santa, said goodbye to 2014, said 'Hello 2015!', eaten too much, drank too much and as far as I'm concerned - driven too much! (Sorry Rolly)

It's just that I'm not so great at 'journeys' - as you know I'm all about the destination. And as we know, that perspective often gets me in trouble.

But I recently had an experience where the journey mattered more than the destination.

We were in Hell, literally, at my in-laws property in Western NSW. (And no I'm not being disrespectful - I use the name which Banjo Paterson quotes in his famous poem, Hay and Hell and Booligal, with affection.)

Anyway, I love being in Hell. Life is simple there. We wander and play and explore and rest at our leisure - so long as it fits in with morning and afternoon tea! There's something about the lack of connectivity with the rest of the world and that big big sky that is freeing.

One of my favourite things to do is ride. 

And when your in Hell no helmet's required.

My preferred mode of transport, my sister-in-laws bike from her youth :

 And with no other cars, bikes, pedestrians, or people!...no lights, no road rules, just me and that never ending horizon underneath that big ol sky...sigh...it is freedom. And joy.

And for once I don't want to reach my destination. 

I just want the journey to go on and on and on.

Hello fear!

I've been wondering what this week's post will be about. Especially when it didn't show itself last week!

What usually happens is a word, a situation, or an experience will present itself and contain the stirrings of a post. And I'll 'know' that it is a post. But not this week. Or last.

And its not like there's been nothing to write about - it's probably more that my inner censor has decided that certain topics or events are 'too big' to write about or get into. It's my old mate fear, hovering over my left shoulder, watching my every thought and choice, tricking me into believing I can't,  I shouldn't and so eventually I don't.

Last night I was rummaging in my desk drawer looking for a sign - something, anything! to point me toward a blog post.


I found this...

It's an excerpt from Rumi's poem, The Guest House, which is stuck up on the wall across from my desk.

Why? Because it's been a great comfort to me of late.





Being human and a traveller on this journey called 'life' we will naturally encounter and experience a myriad of emotions over and over again.

Some of them are fleeting - often the joyous ones, the ones we love to feel, the ones that make our heart soar - the ones we try so desperately to cling to. Others hang around like a bad smell - they are the ones we do everything we can to avoid - fear, anger, rage, resentment - the list goes on. But it seems the more we wish them away, the more insistent they are, and stay!

Rumi reminds us that each 'new arrival' is a guest to be honoured - whether it be happiness or heaviness - there is something to be gained.

The notion that they may be clearing me out for some new delight has helped me move from unease and bewilderment and toward greater calm and acceptance.




The real comfort comes from Rumi's message - that each feeling and thought are a part of the wisdom of this mysterious and wonderful universe, sent to teach us and help us learn and grow. And although I may not understand each visitor's purpose at the time of their arrival, I can boil the kettle and settle in knowing that the lesson will unfold.

A sign of support

Last week while walking Harvey through the forest an Echidna scuttled across the path, right in front of us! He stopped of course, as soon as Harvey started barking at him, curling himself into a tight ball, quills raised ready to defend and protect.

Such an unexpected sight, I knew I'd have to look up my Animal Dreaming book to see what Echidnas represent.

As we know, and saw, at the sign of threat they will dig themselves into the ground leaving only their quills visible - a great deterrent, this mechanism shuts them off from the world.

Scott Alexander King, author of Animal Dreaming, writes that while this action protects them from attack, it can also unfortunately shield them from any assistance or support offered by those who would see no harm come to them.




Hmmm...I am beginning to feel uncomfortable in my skin - the Echidna sounds a lot like me.

I read on.


"Open your heart to the needs of those around you and the nurturing they can offer. Stop shutting people out. You need to let down your guard, relax your sense of personal protection, develop tolerance and begin to trust."



It was like he was talking directly to me.

"Echidna helps us understand the fundamental distinction between denial and determination,
or...the difference between not wanting assistance and not needing support."

I am definitely someone who likes to be independent, but the warning he gives to be wary of being too independent, to the point where one may be seen as distant, ungrateful, unapproachable came across loud and clear.

I've felt the quills come up. They usually accompany the old belief that I should be able to do this... on my own. Stubborn creature aren't I? And I know this attitude gives off the energy that I don't need help, or want it, doing just what the animal psychic said - shutting me off from the rest of my world.

I really like to support others and help in any way I can. This Echidna has reminded me that I too need help at times - we all do - we're human. And it's high time I relaxed those quills of mine, let down my guard and soften to the beautiful people around me who want to see me succeed and be well.

NOTE: this post is dedicated to those people - family and friends - old and new, who have patiently supported me and shared the journey so far... With love and gratitude : ) xxxx

The comfort in change

You know how last week I realised it's all about the journey, well the question that has plagued me during difficult times, is how to be with 'what is' - with the journey as it's unfolding - when we don't like 'what is'?

It's easy enough to enjoy and appreciate the 'good times', the happy times, even the times when we are just cruising along - no particular ups or downs, just cruising so to speak; content.

But what about the potholes, like the one I hit on Tuesday, that you're just about to crawl your way out of but lose your footing?

Yesterday I felt like there was no way out of that pothole.

It was one of those days where I couldn't wait for night to come so I could go to bed and escape the pain in my belly and my mind. I replayed those same unanswerable questions of years gone by over and over, hoping that I'd discover a new insight, a way forward, a step to take in the 'right' direction, something to ease the suffering.

But all it did was keep me stuck in the hole.

I wanted to get out but I didn't know how. There was no hope left to propel me up and onto not-so-shaky ground.

Today I am none the wiser re answers to the seemingly unanswerable questions I have about my health and the pain, but after listening to Pema Chodron, I have been able to climb out of the pothole and with hindsight, see what I was doing that was keeping me stuck.

In a talk on freeing ourselves from 'fixed-mind', from the recording called Walking the Walk, she says  that we think things are solid - our mind fixates, freezes things.



We get triggered or 'hooked' and our mind finds it difficult to let go. Our mind becomes fixed. Frozen. We think that thoughts and feelings and life itself are solid, when they're actually not - they're fluid.

Somehow this morning I was able to see that I had been doing this. That yesterday my mind became fixated on the feelings of despair and uncertainty. I was hooked and got carried away with the seven-year story of my ill-health and thoughts of no end, no hope filled me with fear. I felt paralysed - like there was no way out of the hole, and even if there was, what was the point?


I was in 'fixed-mind', and thanks to Pema Chodron, not only did I realise that, I was reminded that our thoughts and feelings are fluid and changing.

As is life - it is change. My health status changes. The pain changes. My thoughts and feelings about my health change.

But for some reason yesterday I did a really good job of solidifying and as a result, suffering.



She finishes up with what I consider to be very good news - that our natural state of mind is open and that we can return to open-mind in any moment and at any time. That open-mind exists and is part of our natural state is for me, an extreme comfort. As is the knowledge and wisdom that everything is fluid and changing.

Not there yet

Five seconds into the drive home from yoga this morning I am faced with a decision - which way will I go? Straight ahead or turn right at the fountain? My mind tries to work out which route will get me home the quickest so that I can get on with my day.

I choose to turn right. The light is red so I know I will have to wait a few seconds, but I'm ok with that - a few seconds won't hurt...

I get the go-ahead and turn on the green arrow. I don't get far - the next light turns red. I sigh. Then off I go again for a couple of hundred metres, until the next set of lights also turns red. Another sigh. And on it goes, every set of lights, all the way up Mitchell Street at 7.17 in the morning.

The sky was pretty, the air fresh, there was no emergency but I felt the irritation rise with every stop.When I got to the roundabout and yes, had to once more stop for oncoming cars, I saw what I was doing and I laughed - because I still believe, no matter how many times I've read otherwise, that the destination is more important than the journey.

And this, I sadly realised, I apply to almost everything I do...
Yoga - can't wait to do it, but want it to be over.
Eating - want to, yes, hungry, but want to finish so that I can do the next thing.
Writing blog posts - keen, but can't wait to press publish!
Walking Harvey - which track cos I've also got to blah, blah, blah...

Tick, tick, tick, tick. I'm a list person and I like to tick things off it. This doesn't make the list any smaller though - I just keep adding to it! So the list will never end. And I'm so busy planning the next 'destination' that the current journey and all that it offers is lost. Wasted.

I had a chat with a counsellor up at Uni this morning, just to sort through my choice to be a full-time student. He'd only known me for about 15 minutes before he said, "It's like you're running a marathon but you want to get to the end as quick as you can!" Hmmmm. Another affirmation that the destination is more important than the journey.

Does it really matter? I muse, as I sit here right now, writing these words. As long as I'm happy, right? But am I?

Life is ALL ABOUT THE JOURNEY, isn't it? I mean, that's what life is - it's a journey. And the ultimate destination, as my yoga teacher has reminded me a number of times, is death. Why would I want to rush to there?

It's definitely time to take off the blinkers, look around and BE where I am - whether I want to be there or not, cos that's where life happens - NOW.  

Those red lights are my new wake up-call, my cue back to consciousness, to the present, where the richness of life unfolds and gives me the chance to really live.