On listening to your dreams...

I used to think that my body was just a vehicle for my desires: my mind wanted to achieve certain things, my body executed them. It wasn’t until I was really ill last September with a recurring flu that would lay me out flat with a high temperature for about a week a month until February (yup – 6 whole months of it) that I realised the body is far more than a group of muscles at our mind’s beck and call. Our body is actually the messenger for the soul / heart. I always remember when I first heard the word disease pronounced DIS-EASE. It was a revelation. Of course! If we are not at ease with ourselves, this is manifested in the specific part of the body that can teach us most about it. Often, we only need to look at our particular symptoms to find out where we need to redress the balance. No surprises to most people that know me that mine would usually point to ‘letting go’. By working on this and each time seeing just how many levels this could be felt on (and also consciously "not working” – part of letting go is obviously not to force things), I have been amazed to see most of my symptoms literally disappear. (If you want to know more about this, check out the following list of symptoms based on Louise Hay’s incredible insights).

I am reading a book at the moment (the Shaman’s Last Apprentice, by Rebekah Shaman) about a Londoner that travels to the Amazon to meet the man she believes will become her teacher. When they discuss disease, he has the following words of wisdom for her:

“Disease comes when a person fails to listen to their calling. It is the spirit’s way of expressing that it is unhappy and in pain, and that it can no longer be ignored. We all have a guiding voice within that leads us through life. These guiding voices are our dreams, messages and visions. The need to make money stops people from following their dreams. Then people get sick. Illness empowers the spirit to be heard and to show the way to a more fulfilling life, for however long that is.”

I knew the bit about disease but I hadn’t ever clocked the other bit. The crucial bit! The bit about NOT getting sick. And that is to listen to and act upon your dreams, messages and visions. Much of the time we are too tied up in our mind chatter to hear it and too busy ‘being busy’ to take the time out to do so. We are also often fearful: scared of change and of letting go of our current creature comforts. But if we don’t listen to our own dreams, we end up following someone else’s. And that is just a waste. A waste of the unique spark of energy that fuels your specific blend of fabulousness. Which is destined for unique, fabulous things. If only we take the time to hear our hearts and give our dreams the respect we owe them by following them.

As soon as I read that particular paragraph a couple of days ago, I reflected on what my heart has been telling me for a long time, on my secret dream that I haven’t been following or believing in properly (even though I first heard it when I was about 8) because it seems too far-fetched and a bit silly and maybe a bit arrogant too. But I took the bull by the horns and booked, then and there (at a quarter to midnight) my first foundation course in classical shamanism taught by the author of another incredible book that shook my world.

I am beyond excited. It will either be a complete revelation and take me on a journey that I haven’t yet dared to embark upon, one that I wasn’t yet ready to take, or it will not resonate deeply and it will lead to something else that IS my true calling. Either way it is a step in the right direction. A step along the way of the heart.

So I took up the challenge. Now it's your turn! I dare you to join me: what is your secret desire / dream / vision? What small step will you take today, to help that come to fruition?

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On giving attention...

Today I felt like I was a great mum. Yes. "Great". Honestly. Something I rarely, if ever, feel. Why? Because I spent all day with just one of my three children. It wasn’t purely one-on-one attention. I volunteered to help out on a school trip. But wow. What a difference. My middle daughter was a joy to be around. I was a joy to be around. Sure, I couldn’t (and don’t generally) shout at my kids when surrounded by others – I save that for the pure overwhelming exasperation I feel when left on my own with all three - but it wasn’t just that. I felt calm. She was calm. There was no need to shout. I was actually fun to be around! It felt great. And then I felt depressed. I got to thinking about why I couldn’t be this way when all three are there. And I realised that when they are, in my mind, they become a unit. They are just ‘the kids’ – something to be marshalled through the late afternoon and evening by ticking various boxes: supper (not too unhealthy/varied (ie not what we had yesterday)/not too complicated; wash (without soaking the entire bathroom with various bath toys/water pistols/splashing); bedtime story (not too long/appeals to 2, 4 and 6 year old, male and female audience/not too taxing read). The “unit” is in a battle with “time”; more time spent on getting the “unit” into bed = less time I have as a conscious human being before conking out due to exhaustion. I need time to myself and therefore it becomes supremely precious. Therefore I lose sight of who each of them truly is. They are no longer gorgeous little people in their own right. They are a mass of bickering, violent, loud energy determined to encroach upon my allocated (but gradually shrinking) right to the evening.

And that sucks. I realised how much it sucks tonight. When I tried to spend some quality time with the others having spent all day with one and they started fighting about how fair / unfair it was that I was colouring in with one and not the other. It also suddenly dawned on me why they often talk about how worried they are about death. When my eldest first voiced her concerns, I was so touched that I lay down in bed with her for 5 or so minutes, soothing her fears and holding her close. The others soon clocked on that this was the only way mummy actually spends time with you, so they then started up. It makes me so sad that I can’t give them the time they crave with me purely because there is more than one of them. But at the same time it made me see that so much of me feeling like a bad mother is because I am simply overwhelmed by their power as a unit. They become more than the total of their parts. I can feel myself ‘hunkering down’ in order to ‘deal’ with them and get through the evening until I have a scrap of time left to myself.

Well, I don’t want to do that anymore. Today I thought that my middle child should have been born first. She was meant to be an only child. She needs that much attention. And then I thought that actually ALL children probably feel like that. I know that I did. Their requirements for love are boundless. And then I realised that that is her path in life. She was born second because that is what she needs to learn. And I have three because giving each of them the attention and affection they deserve is what I need to learn.

I have no idea how to do that yet but at least I know it’s what I need to work on. And for now, it will just mean signing up to helping out on more school trips!

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Artwork: 'Casting the Net' by Joyce Huntington

On healing wounds...

I hate wounds. I hate having to deal with my own shit. It feels so hard. To delve deep into what is really behind your dissatisfaction, your anger, your sadness, your frustration. Right now, I am currently dealing with two sides of the same thing: the need for space and the need for people. Both co-exist in me and yet fight within me. It is doing my head in.

With three small kids aged 6 and under constantly needing me to wipe their bums, look at their latest cartwheel, listen to their reading, help them make a paper aeroplane, assist them in learning to tie a shoe lace, watch them cycle with one hand, witness their first drawing, I am constantly in demand. And usually all three want me at the same time. The minute I decide I will try to be 'present' and spend some quality time with one of them, the others start fighting or disturbing the 'chosen one' so that it all ends in fighting and me screaming.

So I crave time to myself. Peace. Quiet. A breath. In and out. Shoulders dropping. Chest opening. A time when I am no longer 'responsible' for someone else, for their safety, their behaviour, the person they might become if I let them continue in this vein without punishment or correction. Why? Because to try and be in control of all of these balls (not to mention the housework, the provision of healthy, home-cooked meals, my own career path, my businesses and self-care) = OVERWHELM. Sometimes I can cope and feel very grateful for my life and my beautiful, healthy children and sometimes I feel I have made one huge mistake: that I am not cut out to be a mother. It was all a big mistake. I should just quit whilst I am 'ahead' and confess I am actually really bad at all of this.

But on the rare occasions when I do get the time to myself, I crave being with my kids, their exuberance, their life force because I get panicked by the very silence that I craved. The endless time stretching out ahead of me. It's almost as though I am so unused to it that when it is there, I no longer know how to be in it. So I swing from one extreme to another: desperate for time alone, and then rudderless and scared when I have it.

I know that these are both a need for me to find the comfort I need from within. But it just feels so hard. I can't do it right now. I can't yet be the person who both notices the pattern and soothes the inner child who is panicked. For now, it will have to do just to notice it. To watch as I fall into the familiar pattern of self-criticism, berating myself for wanting not to have kids, wishing I was one of those single people that could do whatever they want whenever they want; observing as I fill my time with needless, small tasks when I finally do have time to myself, desperate to fill the void that suddenly feels too huge for me to occupy.

So for now, I am just going to sit with this feeling of being shit. I don't like it. But I don't yet have the strength or wisdom to heal this wound. Instead I opted for quite a lot of white wine, pasta and lashings of garlic (no idea why but garlic seems to provides bottomless comfort) followed by one (OK, two) chocolate brownies and some more chocolate on top of that. Plus a good cry and a soul session with my ever-committed partner. And that is ok. Because healing takes time. And you can't force it. And if any of you are struggling right now, I am here with you - feeling the pain to release it. After all, if you notice your pattern, then that means you are more than half way to letting it go. It's not great to admit defeat but it's all I can do. And that's ok. Here's to being in spiritual limbo.....

Art by Christian Schloe

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Cool has no age limit...

YES. And I feel this even more so now that I am edging into the 'older' lady category at the grand old age of 40. I came across this article on social media the other day and it inspired me to write about owning your own power.

http://www.revelist.com/hair/older-women-cool-hair/774

These photos show women that are doing just that. Without aggression. With grace. And elegance. And a sense of joy and fun! They are unafraid of what others think of them; they need no external validation. They know their own worth and they have given free reign to their creativity. Ok - most of these shots are focused on hairstyles but still it's pretty daring to express yourself even in this 'minor' way in today's disapproving, compartmentalising day and age.

This is the power that we women all need to harness - our courage to express ourselves authentically. To let our inner Warrior guide us not our emotional-caretaking, people-pleasing sides. Through our hair, our outspoken thoughts and feelings, our clothing, out ATTITUDES. When women are empowered they can change the world. FACT.

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Where Icarus fell to the sea

To ease us into travelling mode, our first destination on our year-long escapade is a European one. It is the island of Icaria, which is located in the Northern Aegean region of Greece. This is named after the son of Daedalus who invented the labyrinth. According to Greek mythology, Icarus and Daedalus tried to escape Crete wearing wings made of feathers and wax. Icarus ignored his father's advice not to fly too close to the sun, the wax in his wings melted and he therefore fell to his death just off the island that now bears his name. The moral of the story is that hubris, or excessive self-confidence, ends in tragedy. Hopefully this is not symbolic of our trip?!

Icarus is a mountainous island, 255sq m in size that is now most famous for being one of the world's five Blue Zones - an area where people live "measurably longer better". It boasts the highest percentage of 90-year-olds on the planet, dementia is almost unheard of, and rates of both cancer and heart disease are much lower here than globally. Ever since reading an article about it last year, I've wanted to visit and whilst we don't intend to stay long enough to test this theory out on ourselves, we do plan to adopt the local lifestyle which is said to contribute to this effect: low stress, moderate physical activity, a healthy diet, a daily nap and regular doses of the local red wine!

Since we will be there for the month of September - harvest season in the northern hemisphere - I'm also hoping we might get to pick some grapes and even help out making the wine. I'm sure it will bear no resemblance at all to the last time I participated in this back-breaking work, in the vineyards and state-of-the-art cellars of Chateau Latour (the Premier Grand Cru Classe that is now part of the LVMH group) but it definitely comes under the "necessary research" entailed in being a touring wine specialist!

Our stay will be in the village of Nas at Thea's Inn. Here, guests can join in with the cooking, milk the goats to make local cheese and pick olives to make local olive oil. Given that no-one wears a watch or locks their doors, it will certainly be an initiation into the 'slow living' lifestyle. Whether this is a good thing just before our next stop of 6 weeks volunteering in an Indian school or not, remains to be seen!

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