The Blog

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Stories

Stories

She looked back, and looked forward, and realised, once again, that she, and only she, created the narrative of her life.
She could write herself as a victim, a heroine, a lost soul, success, failure, or any other polarity.
She could also reinterpret the past how she chose, and leave the future a blank page. She did not have to be who she wrote herself to be, if she now felt differently.
She could reinvent herself, and rewrite her story as many times as she wanted. All that was required was to challenge the narrative.

What stories are you telling yourself about who you are, what you did, what happened and why? What’s truth, and what’s perception, judgement and interpretation?

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Movement

Movement

Maybe she didn’t have to label herself with an arbitary list of personality traits. Maybe she didn’t have to figure out who she was with the rigidity of not being able to change in the future. Maybe she was all of the things, all of the traits, all of the archetypes. Maybe she was capable of anything – the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’. Maybe if she let in the flexibility of flow and change, of honouring herself, her feelings and her response to the environment, she could hold herself with integrity, instead of creating conflict within herself.

Forcing behaviours, thoughts and feelings, because of internal ‘shoulds’ creeping up from lessons learned from past experiences, wise Gurus, parents and society at large, instead of allowing herself to honour what was present for her at the time, what felt true in this moment….did not feel good anymore. It did not feel like she was being a ‘strong independent woman’, or that she was ‘honouring her devine feminine’. It felt like she was fighting against herself, and it was tiring.

So, perhaps there was another way. Perhaps she could identify with all the things, as and when it felt right to. Perhaps knowing herself just meant being in integrity with herself. Being honest. Matching what she felt inside to what she chose to show the world. Maybe that was what being authentic meant. Maybe that way, she wouldn’t feel constantly in the wrong, doing the wrong thing, or doing the ‘right’ thing and wondering why it felt so bad. Maybe this was the answer.
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Photo credit: @loveluella photography

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Boundaries

Boundaries

Perhaps, she realised, it wasn’t about the boundaries that everyone kept going on about, it was about knowing within herself who she was and what she wanted. Maybe, when she knew who she was and what she needed, wanted and desired, it would be easier to ask for those things, instead of expecting others to magically figure it out or demanding them agressively so they felt attacked.

Perhaps, when you opened up, others felt safer to open up too.
Perhaps, when you took responsibility for how you felt, rather than telling someone else they were wrong, it gave space for constructive discussion, rather than defensiveness and distance.

Perhaps, by learning about her own triggers, and healing them, she was able to better show up in the relationship, instead of placing blame or staying in victim mode.

Perhaps, it wasn’t about being too much, it was about showing up as herself, and seeing who came to the table to meet her

Photo taken at: Portugal

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The gap

The gap

The source of any upset, discomfort or pain is the difference between the way we think something should be, and the way it is appearing to be. When we release attachment to our expectations, and instead allow things to be as they are, there is peacefulness, even in the midst of pain.
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Rock balance: @rhum_1st

Photo taken at: Portugal

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Choice

Choice

She had no tolerance for wasting time anymore: not time spent doing things she disliked, not time in places or with people who didn’t inspire her or make her laugh.
She wasn’t judgemental, just discerning. She had learned over the years what she needed, what boosted her soul and helped her contribute the most to the world.

She often felt she didn’t contribute enough, that she could, and should do more, but she remained kind to herself and trusted the journey she was on was hers, and perfect in its evolution.

So she had no problem saying no, or yes, to whatever she did or didn’t need in her life, changing her mind, honouring her heart and doing what she needed to stay true to her soul. This was the way she stayed in integrity. This was her service. This was her Dharma. .
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Photo credit @tom.pelgrom

Photo taken at: Portugal

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I like that you talk

I like that you talk

‘I like that you talk’. So often I have been told that I talk too much, that I should stop, think before I speak, not say what’s in my heart, hide away the self-sabotaging patterns I’ve worked so hard to shift, basically not bring all of myself to the table, because it’s too much for people to handle.
And then someone says that. ‘I like that you talk.’ It’s not the first time someone’s said it, and it won’t be the last, but it hasn’t been that common in my life up to now. And yet, I’ve persevered, because I felt like I couldn’t breathe when I tried to hide myself from the world. It was suffocating. So instead I got told I scared people away, or was too intense, until the odd person comes along and says, ‘Thank you. You make it easier for me to talk. I know where I stand with you. You say what you mean.’ That’s the most important thing, because, quite honestly, I don’t have time to be second guessing people. If I expect honesty and clarity from other people, if I want someone to tell me what’s going on for them, instead of being passive aggressive or expecting me to mindread, I’d better be willing to walk my talk.
Get comfortable being uncomfortable. Your heart will thank you.
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Photo credit: @loveluella

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The work

The work

It always surprised her, how many layers there were. It seemed like a never-ending journey, because it was, and she could understand why so many people chose to live in ignorance of themselves. It seemed so much easier sometimes. To shut her eyes to her many, many ‘imperfections’, her wounds and her triggers, and pretend they belonged to someone else, some environmental reason that caused her upset. If it was something outside of her, someone else’s fault, it was someone else’s problem. She could just remove herself and dampen the feeling of discontent a while longer.

But she didn’t have that luxury anymore. She realised now that everything was on her. Everything was her choice – to choose how to perceive it. To revel in the gift or dispair in the poison. She had that power, and everytime she chose to deny it, she gave her power away: gave her power to the person, or the place, or the job, and put it outside of herself where she couldn’t use it.

She wasn’t doing that anymore. She had allowed herself to breathe into situations, conversations, energy that challenged her every pore….and looked, with curiousity instead of fear, at which patterns she found herself wanting to follow. When she allowed herself to be curious, when she allowed herself the space to feel the patterns instead of fearfully burying them, she gave herself the space to choose differently, to give a voice to what was present, and honour it as part of her, before choosing a different path. This, she realised, was how to change the pattern

Photo taken at: Portugal

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Self-sabotage

Self-sabotage

She was so tired of her own mind creating problems. So tired of making meaning of things, and holding onto judgements so she could remain frustrated and annoyed with others and the environment. What good did it do her? Was it helpful for her to continue to hold so tightly to her righteous indignation of the arbitrary concepts of right and wrong?

And of course, the answer was no. So what was she to do, with the judgements and the opinions and the righteous indignation, except let them go?

To be in the moment, in breathing out without the heaviness of holding on to something which caused her only pain, she felt peace. In the release of the contraction, there was the space she’d been trying to create through force and pushing and the changing of things that are, how they are.

In the space, she realised the peace was there all along, and felt grateful for the annoyance that allowed her to find it

Photo taken at: Portugal

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Being yourself

Being yourself

She was not alone in her wandering. She wandered, sometimes with purpose, sometimes without, but no longer alone.
She had found within herself an inner strength, a reserve she didn’t know was there, a sense of integrity that was raw and often triggering for those around her. And yet, in this integrity, in this honesty of knowing who she was, in the sharing of all of herself, even when she most feared she would be laughed at, she found comfort, strength and solace.
In this honesty, she also found the people with whom she felt at home, those who chose to love her because of everything she was, those who cherished the moments when she was raw and vulnerable, and honoured the courage it took to share so much of herself.
So, even when the way was unclear, and in the wandering she still sometimes found herself looking for home in a place or a person, she could remind herself of the home within her, of the peace that came from being honest with herself. That was enough

Photo taken at: Portugal

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