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I Know You Weren’t Expecting This….

You had the best plans for this year right?

The beginning of the year you set out with all these dreams of “This year..this is my year”.

You felt optimistic. You felt inspired. You had had some things that didn’t go your way the last few years, and you felt like everything you had been through was leading you to this point. This moment. Your moment. Life was going to change directions.

You could all but hear the Angels singing their chorus in celebration of you.

Air fist-pump.

Game on girl. You got this.

You did you vision boards. You did your year planner. You declare it on social media. “This is going to be a frickin’ great year”. And you believe it. You completely consume yourself with dreams of how it is going to go.

It’s chock a block filled with the stuff you love.

You don’t action anything until February because you know from past experience that January is just a right off.

So everything is #February.

The next thing. The next adventure. The next. The next.

February comes and goes.

Now it is #March. And then you get injured. Debilitated. In excruciating pain. And so all your focus is on getting through each day. Each fucking painful day.

But your plans? Your perfect plans. What happens to them?

“It’s okay”, you say to yourself, “You can still make it, the year is long”.

So you stay focussed on all the stuff you love. All the stuff you want to do.

Then things take a turn and you are in so much pain that you cannot see of be anything other than the person in so much pain. White hot pain. Pain so intense that you just need to escape it.

Bowen therapy. Acupuncture. Naturopathy. Osteo. Chiro. Physio. Kahuna. But the pain persists. Cold light therapy. Psychology. Medication. Pain. Escalating. Stronger medication. Constipation. Mind fuck.

Welcome to the last resort. Surgery.

Spinal surgery no less. The spine where all that important stuff lies. In there. Deep.

You are so afraid of the outcome..more afraid than you have been before…but you are so desperate to relieve the pain that you are willing to put your entire well being in the hands of someone else you hope to fuck has a decidedly impressive skill in this operating on spine department.

You have the operation.

In the recovery room, you wake crying and not because you see a big fish staring at you from the wall. The nurse asks why you are crying, to which you say, “I made it out alive…I thought I was going to die”.

You are grateful that the universe didn’t respond to your call to “End this pain, I don’t care if it is my life that ends”.

You notice that that white hot pain has disappeared. That you don’t have that psychosis inducing distraction ripping through your body.

And you exhale.

And recovery begins.

And for a moment you look at the rest of the year. “The year is long, there is still time”.

As you prepare to leave the hospital you begin dreaming about what to do when you fully recover. What adventures. What creations.

And then as you are about to leave, you hear your child is really unwell.

“Must be gastro”, you say.

Few days later you realise that this isn’t gastro when finally your baby isolates the pain to the lower part of her abdomen. And because you can’t drive you call your husband to take your girl to the same hospital that you have just left.

You feel pain again! This time the pain feels different. It is a deep gut pain. A deeper heart pain. Your baby. Your child is in pain now. This is a new pain that overtakes your body. And for a split second you wish you could take all your pain back so you r baby doesn’t have to feel that pain.

In a few hours she would follow your hospital bed wheel marks and she will be looking around a sterile room with a bunch of unfamiliar faces looking at her. Asking the same questions over and over and over.

You’ve just had spinal surgery, so you can’t sit. You have to stand until you can’t stand anymore and then you have to go and lay down.

Wherever you can.

Including the floor of the hospital.

You wait.

Laying on the floor of the waiting room. You’re not alone and you think ‘thank fuck for that or I would be a risk to myself”.

2 hours pass. Your gut is flipping with fear. Anxiety takes it’s grip and your mind starts to envisage all of the worst case scenarios. And they are bad. All of them.

Finally, on the brink of charging the operating theatre to ask ‘what the fuck”? and make sure they are doing everything right, he appears.

The guy who may have just saved your child. Restored them at the very least.

He shows you all the pictures he has taken of inside your baby. These pictures are not worthy of any wellness magazine. More like the first screen shot of a horror film.

It’s messy in there.

But she made it through and you exhale and cry.

The best days are still ahead. You know this.

You battle to visit your baby girl because you aren’t able to drive because of your back. It is still healing from surgery. You feel helpless. You feel challenged. You feel exhausted. But you carry on.

Your family bumbles along and you are supported by earth angels who drive you around, make meals for you and your family to eat. Clearly someone has noticed how much weight you have put on through all of this stuff and you even get a Weight Watchers Risotto in the mix. Once you would have cared. Now you just laugh.

You weren’t to know, but the next wave was building and was about to hit your family again.

That same bubba girl begins to deteriorate again.

It’s a blur and before you all know it you are back at that same hospital.

“I’ve reviewed the ultrasound and she has 2 abscesses that need to be drained”.

“More surgery?” you all sing.

“Yes”.

And the wheels turn again.

The bed moves into the sterility.

The fear isn’t as fierce. You worry that you aren’t more afraid. You worry you should be more scared.

You exhale and surrender. You trust.

The waiting beings. Again.

You have a room to lay down in and wait this time. So no laying on the ground in the waiting room.

It’s just you and your rock. Your support person. The person that you spent years not really allowing to step up and be supportive of you, because you were so used to be the strong one. The independent one.

And you both wait. Waiting again for the face of the doctor and this time hoping the images he takes aren’t as gruesome.

You talk about your other bubba’s and take a moment to be grateful for how amazing they are as well. Pulling together and supporting their sister.

You reflect on how gutsy your kids are. Their individual knock downs and their stand ups. Their emotional whacks and their strength and vulnerability.

You both realise how blessed you are and wonder how you got so lucky.

The call comes to visit your girl in the recovery room. No one else is there except your baby and the nurses attending to her. Taking her temperature. Feeding her lemonade ice block. She’s crying. She’s in pain. You desperately want to take that pain again.

You feel bad for ever complaining about your own pain. It seems so small in comparison to seeing your baby in pain. You hold the tears back with all of your might. Tears that for the last 4 months you have just let flow.

But you hold them. For her. She has seen you cry so many times now. And you hold it. Just. Knowing that soon she will be asleep again and you can release the pressure.

And then she sleeps. And you watch her precious face. Face of an angel. An angel that feels the heaviness of being a human. You know intimately how that feels.

And you cry.

She wakes in pain. She independently presses the buzzer for he nurse. “I have a lot of pain. 6 out of 10. Can I have something to help my pain please”?

And she gradually feels better. The drip machine makes noise and when before she didn’t hear it because of her pain and daze, she hears it and complains. You know she is improving. You sense your body relaxing. It’s been well tense.

Nurse after nurse pours love and support over our family. With each medication delivery, bed pan, sips of water to each firm encouragement to get up and moving, you feel supported and encouraged.

The best days are still ahead…maybe? Surely.

And just like the day you brought her home form the hospital after she was born, you take the driveway exit really gently not to cause too much shock movement in the car. To startle her body. Inhaled.

Exhale.

The storm has passed and the waves have retracted.

Calm.

Healing.

Home.

Multiple games of UNO ensue. You lose and you love it.

You bathe in the joy that your baby is better. Is getting stronger. And goes back to school.

And in the quiet you realise that the 2017 plan was never going to offer you what you expected.

You in fact, were gifted with so much more than you expected.

You wanted to have the opportunity to connect in deeper and more raw way with your family. Could you have had a better opportunity?

You see that you could never have organised a better way to deepen the connection with your husband.

You notice that your tribe are your tribe for a reason.

You bathe in the love that folks have poured out via messenger, Facebook, SMS, and phone calls and see how loved and supported you are.

You acknowledge that it is still your growth area to ask for support and are willing to practice more…even in the times outside of the storms.

You recognise that you are still releasing pain and cleaning up some of the debris from the storm, but you are in no rush to do so. The busy has been weeded out.

You have the experience of sitting in the pain. Right deep in it. And you didn’t run. You didn’t beat yourself up (much). You felt it as much as you could and allowed yourself to step away from it as well. You were actually practicing being brave.

You thank pain and bid it farewell. Thank you for your visit.

And just as you are about to attempt to return to your ‘usual’ life, the specialist says, “I fear there is another collection in her abdomen. She’ll need another ultrasound and more blood tests…..”.

Inhale. Exhale.

You relax into it. You don’t fight it. And maybe it is because you are completely exhausted and have no energy to spare. But maybe it is because you trust that this is ok. She is ok. And will  be ok.

You still cry. Ugly wee out your eyes cry.

You don’t deny how you are feeling. Instead you are re-reminded of what is most important to you. And reinforced that you are human and human things happen to humans and humaning is fucking hard. No news flash. It’s for real.

Stuff happens to humans irrespective of how kind they are, how much money they have, how funny, they are, how ‘healthy’ they are….unexpected stuff happens!!

AND there is so much love that exists as a human. And pain can be a gateway to deeper more unconditional love. While you have always ‘known’ this and ‘preached’ this…you actually have embodied this.

Allowing yourself permission to feel it all. And being kind with yourself when you bypass the pain….understanding you will return to heal it. Not escape button it.

And in no surprise you read a blog post by one of your favourite writers and it sums it up  for you:

Being human hurts. We try so hard to avoid this fact, doing our best to numb ourselves with various addictions, overwork, obsessive love affairs, positive psychology, and or spiritual bypassing techniques to try to “love and light” our way past the pain. But no matter how you run away from pain, pain will track you down, stalking you like a leopard until you finally dive down into it and really let it devour you. We have to go all the way into our traumas (as I described here) before it can begin to release us, open our hearts, and show us that at the pit of our pain, all we meet is (paradoxically)—unconditional love. This is what we’re so afraid of? Love? (Lissa Rankin)

And in her blog she references another of your favourite teachers:

So when we Easy button our way out we are like caterpillars who jump out of the cocoon right before we would have become butterflies. Because pain is actually not a hot potato. It’s the traveling professor and it knocks on everybody’s door, and the wisest ones say, “Come in. Sit down, and don’t leave until you’ve taught me what I need to know.” But we’ve got it all wrong. We are afraid of pain, but we were made for pain. We need to be afraid of the Easy buttons. Because the journey of the Love Warrior is to rush toward her pain and let her pain become her power. (Glennon Doyle Melton)

Something has changed within you. You can feel it. It is subtle and yet so powerful. All that time you spent thinking ‘the best is yet to come’, you see that the best is right here now. Each moment of every now.

Each card game. Each message of love. Each meal together. Each challenge.

And even though as you consider having to consider surgery number 3 for your baby girl, you know that you ‘should’ be feeling afraid and angry and shaking your fists at the sky screaming ‘why me’, ‘should’ isn’t running the show.

Instead you draw closer to the pain. Right into it’s den. You sit down across from it and you ask, “What is it you want to share with me this time wise teacher”?

To be continued……….

 

0

We All Want the Same Thing…Don’t We?

Another fucking tragedy experienced in and by our world. A tragedy I cannot fathom really, or understand even a tiny bit what those people affected by this are feeling. Nor for the victims of the ongoing war and killing in the middle east.

More reasons not to look at the news. Another reason to turn away….or is it?

As someone who has denied her sensitivity for a lot of years, I too was afraid to look at all of the horror that seems to exist in our world. It felt too much. Too big. Too overwhelming.

I believed I needed to protect myself so that the pain wouldn’t affect me, wouldn’t drag my energy out. That the emotional shrapnel wouldn’t hit me too.

The ego part of me, the part that is afraid and wants me to believe that I am seperate, different and at risk tells me to stay inside. Lock the fucking doors, pull the curtains and hide girl! Hide! Don’t let anyone see me or me to see anyone else.

With all the storm stuff in our little fam lately I have heard a lot of ego chatter. And then with all the stuff ‘out there’ in the wider world…well….

LOCK. THE. FUCKING. DOORS! Screamed my

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Pema Chodron the beautiful Buddhist monk, in her book “Start Where You Are”, says this about Ego;

Ego is like a room of your own, a room with a view, with the temperature and the smells and the music that you like. You want it your own way. You’d just like to have a little peace; you’d like to have a little happiness, you know, just “gimme a break!”

But the more you think that way, the more you try to get life to come out so that it will always suit you, the more fear of other people and what’s outside your room grows. Rather than becoming more relaxed, you start pulling down the shades an locking the door. When you do go out, you find the experience more and more unsettling and disagreeable. You become touchier, more fearful, more irritable than ever. The more you just try to get it your way, the less you feel at home”

Can anyone relate to that? The need to hide away? The need to control the space you are in? The need to turn away from both the sadness of others AND the happiness of others?

Ego wants me to turn off social media, it wants me to turn off the news, it wants me to be afraid and hide. To scoop up everything and everyone I love and bunker down and hide.

And yes, there are times that I really feel like it is just too much for me to bare (usually when I have been out of alignment with myself and not telling the absolute truth), and I completely honour that about myself….but for the most part…it is ego and fear that wants me to pull back.

Ego wants me to remind myself that I have big enough problems and that I don’t have time to deal with the worlds issues, or anyone else’s suffering. To become self centred and wallow in my misery and ‘poor me-ness’.

Ego part of me cries, “Enough already. Jeezus”!! It clings to trying to convince me that things should be working out the way I want them. It should be different to what it is. It whispers, “I am a good person, so why is all this shit happening to me? And why is it happening to other people as well…WHO CAN WE BLAME”?

The ego/scared part of me want ME to be victorious. To hell with the rest. And, if anything threatens to get in the way of ME victory, well, you will be blamed and shamed!

Huh! Interesting.

Checking out a bit of human history, I can see that there has been time after time after time of ME wanting to be victorious. Can you?

The Croats and the Serbs murdering each other, raping each other, killing children and the rest. Hitler and his ME victorious hunting over the Jews. The Arabs and the Jews. Protestants and the Catholics. The One Nation party and well, everyone. Trump and well..the same as The One Nation party.

Me. Me. Me.

But as humans don’t we look at all the stuff and say, “Oh yeah, isn’t it terrible what is happening ‘over there’. Pointing out there. Over there. They should just do this…and do that…and stop this and start that….”. “It is their fault the world is in chaos”. “It’s them to blame for our pain”.

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Are we really that different to those folks ‘over there’?

First, let me say, I nor you who is reading this could surely really be able to feel into the evil that exists in some humans. This evil that says, “Lets build a bomb filled with nails and glass and explode it at a concert where folks are going to celebrate and enjoy life”. Nup. I cannot even touch that level of hate and blame for unhappiness. And I know, neither can you. So lets set that aside before ego’s get triggered.

What I am trying to say is that if I was to ask you and you were to ask anyone else; “What is it you want out of life or what is it you want for your children’s life”? you and most folks will answer, “Just to be happy”.

Sounds like this simple thing right? To be happy. To be at peace.

If we ask the Serbs, “What is it you want”? I wonder if they would say, “We just want our people to be happy and live in peace”.

Okay. Doesn’t seem like a big ask. We all want that right? Seemingly, theirs and most folks solution is to try to eradicate what they believe is the source of their misery. In the Serbs case it is the Croats.

But what about me? And what about you? What is the source of your discomfort? Your unhappiness? Is it anything to do with you or is it because of someone else?

The point I am clearly slowly trying to make here is that if you and I continue to think that there is any difference between the Serbs and the Croats, the situation in the Middle East or Somalia or in Trump-ville, we’re mistaken.

If we think that there is a difference between those situations and the way that white people feel about black people or heterosexuals and homosexuals or any other situations on earth, well, we got it a little off kilter ya’ll.

This is not a new concept and I certainly didn’t come up with it, but what I have come to really embody is :

We gotta start with ourselves.

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I wonder what the planet would look like if it was completely blame free. Can you go there for a minute? A second? What does it look like to you?

Perhaps we would see the agitated and aggressive energy that seems to be causing a widespread holocaust subside? And peace and harmony would reign. Maybe?

A few years ago I experienced a really devastating betrayal. Painful. So painful, that it was the first time in my short life on this planet, with all the other pain I had experienced…that I actually considered it being better option for me to actually not be here.

It was brutal. I felt isolated. I felt angry. I felt like I wanted to get revenge, like deep deep evil thoughts of revenge. Ridiculous levels of blame.

Really, it was messy in  my head for a while.

I was miserable. Levels of misery that I had never experienced. And while I ‘knew’ that I had to start with me (this is what my work with others is all about), it didn’t stop me from wanting to hurt others.

I wanted them to feel my level of pain. I didn’t want to experience this pain and temporarily believed that if I sought revenge, that that would make me feel better, that I would shift the pain like a hot potato from me, to them.

“You take it. You deserve it…not me. You caused this”! Blamo at it’s best!

If I was to act on my pain, to act out in anger, then my life would be very different now.

I’d be getting 3 meals delivered to my cell. Which as a mum, you probably wouldn’t think that would be too bad. I mean, in prison there is a gym, lots of time to read, food provided and you don’t have to think about what to wear everyday right??

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*returns from her dream like fantasy* I digress.

Over time, I started to notice what it felt like in my body to blame someone else for the way I was feeling.

I started to notice what it felt like in my shoulders. My stomach. My heart. It fucking sucked arse burgers! BIG TIME. I hated it. Loathed it.

Recently, like very recently…I decided to be brave and to stop trying to escape the discomfort by blaming and pointing and being venomous.  To stop guarding myself and pushing discomfort away. I had to get in touch with the very soft spot under all of my armour…and blame was the strongest part of that armour.

It felt often really heavy in my stomach and chest. Like I couldn’t take a full deep breath. Tight in my neck and shoulders and my jaw felt clenched.

It was intense.

“Just let it go” they say. “Just drop it and move on”.

Oh, okay. Is there a pill I can take for that?

What did it really mean to let go for me and how on earth could I possibly do it?

It sounded like just what I needed but I just couldn’t seem to do it. No matter what therapy, what coaching, what book….my Ego was far, far too strong to allow me to be free. So I fought. I held tight.

I got exhausted. I got some serious physical manifestations. I got physical pain that matched my emotional pain. It was bad arse!

In the space I had created with my physical symptoms, I began to notice really deeply that when I blame others and put all that energy into the object of anger it is usually because I am really afraid that these uncomfortable feelings are going to last forever.

I mistakenly believed that the way to end my pain was to blame it on someone else. Anyone else. To pass it over. Hot potato style. Here you take it. It doesn’t belong with me. I don’t deserve this. It isn’t mine…you caused all of this. You take it!

The irony and the apparent truth is that this is what actually made it last. 

Letting go for me has become a practice. A little bit by little bit deal.

And it started with asking myself these few questions that came to me in stillness one day. All the other ways didn’t speak to me. But this way did.

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  1. Jen, this feeling in your body if you were to continue to experience it for the next 5 years, what would that feel like?
  2. What if these feelings were a part of nature, that you could hold in your hands physically and lovingly and gently place down to let it go on it’s way; would you do it?
  3. What would doing that feel like in your body?
  4. Do they have any control over the way you feel right now?
  5. Do other humans experience the feelings you are feeling?
  6. Can you use this human experience to help other humans?

Doing this, the poison lessened.

I bravely chose and still continue to choose to acknowledge and own the feeling of blame, acknowledge and own the feeling of anger, acknowledge and own the feeling of loneliness AND most importantly, I can make friends with it before gently and lovingly placing down allowing to return to nature.

So how about you? How are you doing with all your human anger, human blame, human pain? How do you deal with the pain ‘out there’ and how do you deal with the pain ‘in here’?

Share with us so that we might be able to lessen more of the pain.

If you have tried other things, or have tried no other things to try to find peace, I challenge you to experiment with these questions of self inquiry.

It works on other feelings other than blame and betrayal..I’ve experimented myself.

0422864cdb2936cfb14d536a68446601.jpgYou’re initial thought reading this might be “fuck off, you have no idea of what pain has been inflicted on me”…

And no, I don’t. I cannot. Not even close for some of you.

AND yet, I want what you want.

It might feel shit at first. Like really shit. The ego will want to keep you locked in your house with the doors closed and curtains drawn. And if your ego is as strong as mine, you are in for a ride.

What everyone wants. I want what the Serbs want. I want what the American’s who voted in Trump want, I want what the Catholics want….

I I want to be happy and in peace and I want that for you too.

I want that for all of us, because I want to live in a world where all of us are! I want that for my kids too.

I’m not asking you to fling the door open and step out or to invite the world in. I am just asking you to stand at the door, considering the possibility that you might be able to open it, once you gently free you hands up from holding these uncomfortable feelings by asking these questions.

My work in the world is to help guide folks back to their true selves as I walk the path of my true nature. To help us all wake up to their amazingness. To find peace and happiness. And for me to help those folks, I have to walk the path myself.

If you or someone you love might benefit from the self compassionate practice of letting go, maybe pass this on to them or take a moment this week to ask the questions. Or challenge yourself to book a healing session with me via Zoom or in person. Just put your deets in the box below.

cde304b4c131b5a6950c23e292ecadea.jpgI’d love to hear about your human experience with blame and pain….because you are not alone.

We are in this together my fellow traveller.

An adventure in making friends with ourselves, so we might know peace.

Big, big love

Jen

xx

4

It’s Time.

Dear god, I am out of hospital and no intent to return. Either on my own or with a member of our family!
Insert celebratory music.
Soul connections! Thanks for holding space for all of this stormy stuff.
I’m still in recovery. And frankly, recovery is going to take me a while. My physical system has taken a massive hit and it is time for me to practice what I preach. BIG TIME.
For years I have been banging on about “Self Care” and have written extensively on the “BS of Busy” and the impact living full out has on the body and mind.
But truth be told, I am a “BUSIER”. I have my work schedule, my family schedule, and then I invite consistent ‘shiny, shiny’ interruptions to take me away from what my soul wants.
I am a ‘put other people before me’ kinda chick.
In 2010 during a personal development workshop, it was exceeding made clear to me that I am someone who lets people go ahead of me. A LOT.
During a group process, I was able to see how often I would let people step ahead of me. And I would let them. And I would turn, head hung and actually be okay with it.
Until the facilitator stopped the whole group proceedings and sat in front of me, eye to eye and said, “Do you know how painful it is to watch you continue to put everyone else ahead of you? Where did you learn that your needs are less important than others?”
I couldn’t talk. Tears just trickled down my face. Truth tears. You know those tears? Have you ever had them? You can’t speak because you have been hit in the soul and your soul cries with relief. “Thank you…finally someone saw the truth”.
After that though, my mind came back on line and bumped my soul truth aside. “Oh, I don’t mind putting people ahead of me, because I always know my needs are going to be met”. And, “They need it more than I do”.
I’ve carried this for those years. Not really believing that I allow the needs of others to come before me.
And I am not talking about kids needs. You have kids, then you sign up to meeting their needs. It is part of it. Completely. But not at the consistent expense of ourselves.
Mostly, I am talking about adults. Grown folks.
I am a human helper. That is my life calling, so I am born to help. I know this after 41 years here. I know that in my soul.
But the tragic truth is, I allow myself to be used….to have energy drained without reciprocation or energetic exchange.
I will book a client for an hour, and then get so involved and ‘helperish’ that 2 hours would pass and only be paid for an hour. This happens with helpers. Because it is so natural, I could do it all day long…and love it….but it costs energy. It just does…and mostly because of these superpowers I have.
I am an empath. Or rather, I have empath qualities. And if you aren’t familiar with what that is, find your friendly google definition and explanation or you can check this out ; 31 Signs You’re and Empath.
Or really, as Martha Beck best puts it, I am part of …The Team. Click on the blue to see if you are too!
Just like that time in 2010 when I was told the truth, I have tried to avoid it, justifying it away and making excuses for this superpower and disowning it, mostly because it is so ‘woo-woo’ and those of you who know me or have followed my writing know I hate being put in boxes and labeled.
But it is true.
I am.
I am incredibly sensitive to energy. I am incredibly intuitive. I sense stuff that I find difficult to know where it comes from about other people. I just ‘know’ stuff. I can feel stuff. And I have had this gift since I was a child.
The first memory I have was ‘knowing’ there was something ‘not right’ with my mum when I was staying at my Nanna’s place at 5 years old. Back in the day when no one talked about mental illness.
The next big memory I have was when I was 9, staying at my next door neighbours house and she was complaining about her step mother.  Her dad was this big friendly bear kind of guy who drove semi trailers for a living. As a truck he was away a bit and my friend was frequently left with her step mum. She was the kind of woman who didn’t have a problem smacking her next door neighbours kids if she felt so inclined as well. Oh the days of smacking huh?
One night as we lay in the bunk beds, her on top and me underneath, she began her usual whinge about Marguritte. I listened as I always did, but this time I said, “Well, at least you know she is your step mum. I am pretty sure my dad isn’t my real dad. Even though they all tell me he is”.
His name was on my birth certificate. I shared his last name. I called him dad. No one had said anything to me about him not being my dad, but this was something I just ‘knew’.
Of course my friend thought I was crazy and laughed and jibed me enough for me to realise that maybe it isn’t safe to just ‘know’ stuff.
It wasn’t until I was 13 that my mum finally admitted that the person I had been raised to call dad, wan’t my biological dad. And when she told me that night, my reply was, “well I knew that”.
This kind of thing happens all the time when I have conversations with folks, when I am working with clients, when I run retreats. It is a sense. I feeling and sometimes an image or a metaphor to describe what I am feeling.
For the longest time, I have tried to think my way around stuff, to find the explanations for some of the ‘knowing’ and what I have since come to see, is that truth has this way of meeting people. And those people will know if it is true for them or not. My only job is to be available for the ‘knowing’.
Since all this physical stuff has gone down in our house, I have come to see so much. I see how much I used metaphysics and law of attraction to create a self blame culture for myself. One that seeks to see what I have done wrong so that I might ‘fix’ it with affirmations, mediations and unblocking of sorts.
The truth is, for me that there was never anything that needed to be fixed. There was never anything to ‘sort out’ or ‘understand’. There was only opportunity to see what and where I wanted to reject myself. And instead, have an opportunity to deliver unconditional love and acceptance. Of all of it.
I know that this is ‘out there’ and yes, completely of the ‘woo woo’ variety. But actually, it isn’t to me.
It never has been and yet, in an attempt to be accepted, to be liked, to belong I have dulled down what I have always ‘known’.
It is time now.
Time to start really being honest. Truthful. And trusting.
It is time to start really living from this place of self gentleness and acceptance. That includes all the whacky and the woo. Without exception. Without being shamed. Without the need to justify and dull.
It is time.
Isn’t it time that you, like me, started to see your own truth. Not the subscription of truth that you have been taught or have come to believe on order to fit in and be liked?
Well, you’ll know if it is time for you. And in the meantime, know that none of this human experience is wasted. None of it.
Believe what feels true to you and drop kick the rest.
Biggest love and support my fellow human helper.
Jen
xxx
2

Martha, Spoons and the Unknown….and Me.

I haven’t written anything in the longest time. And that actually feels good to me right now.

When a severe storm is raging and the windows are shaking, and there a leaks in the roof, writing about it isn’t the most relaxing of experiences. Writing in general doesn’t seem so important. Not as important as breathing and living. Although I am sure many would argue that writing is exactly that for them…seemingly not for me.

Life has been a bit stormy in our world recently. Something that I wasn’t prepared for. And in this case, I am not sure how much preparation we could have done for this life storm. And frankly, I am done thinking about it. Or trying to understand it. It bores me to be honest.

It’s raining outside at the moment and I can hear the squeals and ‘nah nah na na nah’s’ of the kids next door as they run around in it playing their games. Ooooo, and now I can hear the familiar song…”happy birthday to you…”. Celebration.

I’m pleased I noticed it. It made me smile.

Is this really what I wanted to write about today?

The truth is, as I lay here (still not great at sitting), I don’t really know what to say or write.

I feel a bit out of practice, or blocked. Do you ever get like that?

And for the first time in my life, I have no inclination to judge that, or try to understand it. I can just leave it the fuck alone as a part of my life experience. Take a big breath and exhale and just let my fingers move. Leave them alone. Leave my mind alone. Just let it be.

So much and yet so little has happened since last I wrote, that I’m not sure what wants to come out. If anything at all does. So, I write in the mystery of what might show up….

This is probably the difference in me now, after this last crazy arse life storm that our family experienced. I can actually admit…and be marginally okay with the fact….. that I have no fucking idea of what is going to happen next.

Not a one.

Despite my life long efforts to tweak and control everything so that it was exactly how I wanted it to be.

What a fucking exhausting way to live. I would know, because I was living it.

I’ve tried to write a bunch of stuff to explain the shift I have had recently….and deleted it. It just wasn’t coming through smoothly.

So instead I’m going to put it down and let this little clip by one of my favourite life guides and fellow Wayfinder explain it to you instead.

Martha Beck is by far one of my favourite people (despite the fact I haven’t met her and don’t actually know her….yet).

Since the very first time I saw her on the Oprah Winfery show back in the 1990’s I have felt her words resonate so deeply with me…and no more so that when I participated in her webinar called, “Five Paths to Your Purpose” a few days ago. I’ll blog about it later, because I don’t know that you can watch it if you didn’t sign up. But the nuggets of wisdom are chunky…for real!

The clip I am going to share today though, is one that is available to all. One that I hope will resonate with you. And if it does, please send me a wee message. I’d love to connect with you about this. It means that we are on the same team…

Oh….teams…I love teams. We call our family The Little Lean Team and Martha write about folks who she believes are on “THE Team”…..I want to write about teams…

Ahhhh and there it is….the unblock!

Enough rambling.

This clip is a few mins long but so worth your time. If you aren’t familiar with “Spoon Theory”, please acquaint yourself now…

Martha Beck and Spoon Theory.

Of course if you know anyone who might relate to the Spoon Theory…please pass it on.

Big, big love

Jen

xxx