#1993 Yin energy

We need to surround ourselves with feminine energy.

As a woman, it is intrinsic to our wellbeing. To our survival. To be able to motivate ourselves, go on and go on, reach higher and further than we ever thought possible… we need to surround ourselves with yin.

But… it has to be the right yin.

Find it in your mothers, your sisters and your daughters.

Find it in your cousins, colleagues, those you meet on the street that you connect with instantly.

Those that you see and go “YES!” I feel you.

Find it in your friends. In the friends that you’ve known for so long, the ones that there is no pause for breath, the friends that can support you and help you, leaving you feeling full to the brim with love, laughter and constant memories.

Today I felt supremely lucky that amidst all this recent lockdown business, we were still able to go out and celebrate a dear friend’s baby shower.

I think we were all super excited, you know, being out of the house and socialising. 🀣

But mostly, seeing the love growing from the depths of our friend’s belly. πŸ’–πŸ’–

See these flowers? They look fragile, pretty and at the mercy of the lightest breeze.

Yet look deeper, and you find an inner, unshakeable strength, so strong that the harshest rains, winds and heat cannot shake it.

That is yin. That is feminine energy. Going with the flow, but standing strong and proud from within.

And I know how to tell if you’re with the right yin energy, the right people.

At the end if the day, you’re asking yourself –

“When can we do this again?”

And so we did.

“When will we do this again?”

πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°πŸ₯°

#1963 July sky

I got home from dropping off baby girl at gymnastics this evening, to find this:

What a truly glorious and bright sunset. And it’s July. July 1st, we are down one month of Winter, and look at that sky!

Did you feel the warmth today? Did it feel good? Those positive rays shining down on you?

I’m beginning to feel like anything is possible… even in Winter.

This evening’s sky proved that. πŸ˜πŸŒ…

#1885 Keep that snail pace

All I can say is, don’t give up.

Things aren’t perfect, and they can always get better. But I find myself at a point where I feel like despite everything, there is nothing else to do BUT keep going.

Keep moving.

Keep yourself distracted with passions, personal pursuits. If some things aren’t working out, well then find what IS, and run after that at full-speed.

But also, don’t be hard on yourself. I found myself the other night nearly crying with despair to Hubbie.

“And I want to do this, and do this, and I’m trying to do this, and then I’ve got my book! Then I want to do this, AND this…”

The list goes on and on and on.

We put sooo much pressure on ourselves.

We want to create this perfect family life. But we have to also work, and make money. Maintain the house. Cook wholesome food. Clean. Wash clothes every second of every day (or so it seems). Feed people.

But also chase your dreams! Be fit, exercise. Eat mindfully. Take time out, but don’t waste a second!

Play with your kids. Give yourself me time. Take walks. Sleep in. Keep in regular contact with family, friends.

What the actual fuck am I to do with all that?

Something has GOTTA give.

I’ve been giving so, so much lately. I can only do things, and move forward in incremental steps, and it’s these tiny baby steps I’ve been taking that are making me feel like things are actually moving.

Snail place, but still moving forward.

And that leads me back to, don’t give up.

It’s so tiresome and banal, telling people to not give up. I’ve felt like telling people over the last shit year who’ve passed out that quote, to piss off and shut up.

But I find it to be true, too true. Even in super-crawl slow-mo pace, I find it to be the most factual of all things.

Keep your head up. Look at what positives you can… even if it’s the blanket on you right now. A hot drink. Sun peeking through the clouds. Someone sending you a nice message. A cute cat.

I am skilled in the art of looking for things in the smallest of spaces. I should know. It’s awfully difficult, but it can be done.

And I guess, it’s nice to be passing out this advice, instead of looking for it.

Progress.

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels.com

#1662 Day 164 of getting there: soup for days

It occurred to me recently one of the benefits working from home has brought.

You get to eat soup for lunch.

Think about it. Taking soup to work is downright difficult, if not impossible.

At my old job, I did it a handful of times. It’s fine if you’re driving in… your little soup bowl, tupperware or what have you, sits at your side as you drive, fairly undisturbed as you take turn after turn.

But then you have to walk over.

Do you have a one minute walk? Two minute walk? 10 minute walk like I used to?

Tupperware or no tupperware, it can get very messy taking a container of soup in to work… the food bag (does everyone have a ‘food bag’ or is it just me?) knocking about your leg as you walk, sploshing everywhere…

Don’t even start on public transport. Oh no. I wouldn’t even TRY. Walking to the station, the train in, then entering the mass horde in the city while trying to keep your soup upright?

Noooooo.

I love making heaps of soups of winter, and I realised how many more I’ve been making, even just for myself, as I get to heat it up for lunchtime and voila…

Soup lunch AT HOME.

Mmmm.

I was feeling kinda restless this afternoon, and I realised it was because I couldn’t think of a lunch I could eat at home-work tomorrow that I was satisfied with.

So I quickly whipped one up!

I checked out my bestie’s work facebook page, Nutrilicious Dietetics. She’s been posting heaps of recipes during covid, and one that I have tried and loved was this really simple, flavoursome, yet super healthy lentil soup.

So I made it again.

And it just brings me this simple joy, that I know I get to eat this yummy, home-made soup tomorrow… it is almost making me look forward to work!

WHAT??? πŸ˜‚πŸ²

#1583 Day 85 of getting there: Positive trouble

Tonight, I WON TROUBLE.

Firstly, look at that board game. This thing is from the 80s, super early 90s, TOPS. Can you see the frayed edges, sticky tape holding the sides together, the whole bottom thing just about to fall apart?

I’m surprised I still have all the pieces.

I have a thing, for keeping and maintaining my cherished childhood items. Board games included. If you think this box looks ancient, you need to see my Monopoly box… it looks like it came out of an archaelogical dig, ha.

And even though my Mum hasn’t found my full deck of Uno cards back at my childhood home, and Safeway beckons me with a brand new deck at a price of $4, I still won’t cave in and get the shiny new thing.

I will search and search until I find all the draw four’s damn it.

Tonight was a big deal for me. Every time we have played together as a family, I have never won. Always Hubbie, or baby girl. When I realised this, I told myself that next time we played, I WOULD WIN.

Hubbie started motivating himself, telling me he was gonna get me during the game. Uh huh. I just kept going, quietly confident, determined, strong and yet not overly showy, pushing, persistent, focused, willing, wanting, until….

I WON!

Hooray!

It means so much because

a) I finally kicked their arses, and

b) I wanted to make a point to myself.

I used to think more positively and with a sunnier outlook, and it was so easy too. However a lot of things have happened to make me doubt my inner voice and inner wisdom. So much so that to think, feel and believe in a positive outcome, scares me to no end.

It scares me because I don’t want to feel disappointment. Again.

So I don’t think positive… not like I used to, anyway.

But this was a tiny experiment you see. A test, on something small, insignificant, to see if I could work the power of my mind to give me what I wanted.

And it did.

I did.

Coincidence? If you’ve been around long enough, you know I don’t believe in those…

πŸ™‚

#1570 Day 72 of getting there: bathe it all away

I’ve always had an attraction to water.

I may have said it before, but growing up in my teens, I used to tell bestie that one day I wanted to have a beach house.

I didn’t know how. I didn’t know when.

To be honest, I didn’t even know if it were possible.

It certainly didn’t seem possible at the time.

And yet… isn’t it funny how things end up working out?

Water isn’t only my recluse. My solace. Living near, being close to, or sitting under water has been shown to bring about many benefits to ALL people, some of which are lowered stress and anxiety, and just a greater sense of wellbeing.

In the Summer, I am far more relaxed. Yet I still find myself breathing deeply when wading through the beach waters, taking it all in, and giving myself a moment to meditate with my eyes open.

In the colder months… different story.

Driving past the beach helps. As does looking out the window. But another way I find water submersion in Winter, is in my own home.

The bath.

I had planned on an end-of-week bath, but today, as mentally and emotionally stressed as I found myself, I realised I needed to hurry the ‘me time’ to tonight.

So, what do I do?

I light a candle. Make sure the water is HOT.

And then, not very much at all. That is the whole point after all.

I do watch my thoughts. I open myself up to the Universe, to see what questions come to me, and what answers just as quickly flow through me.

I remain impassive. I let go, my fingers floating on the surface of the water.

I breathe in light, love, and all the good in the world. All of my hopes, desires and dreams.

And I breathe out negativity, and that which does not serve me…

Then I pull the plug.

And the black energy I’ve expelled, goes down the drain.

Photo by Holger Link on Unsplash.

#1554 Day 56 of getting there: missing out on shit

Sometimes, hard times get harder.

And that sucks.

Like when isolation restrictions lessen, but you still have to remain isolated.

A few choice expletives are more than necessary, but this is a gratitude blog, so we’ll all use our imaginations for that.

But when you can’t be in the company of loved ones, and you know you are missing out, that the rest of the world is catching up…

I had to do the only thing I could today.

Take a walk.

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Clear the head. Breathe in the co2. Stretch the limbs, feel the sunshine on my face, and then run after Hubbie and baby girl as they suddenly got further and further away from me down the street…

And I felt good. I was pushing past my natural limit, I was making those legs ache, I was gearing myself to get the heart pumping more, the lungs taking in more air.

I was feeling lighter.

And then as I passed a large gum tree, with dozens of chattering birds ahead… the unthinkable happened.

Well, not so unthinkable. Definitely thinkable after today.

I felt wetness on my hands. I stopped. Looked at the drops.

Turned down to observe my top…

And realised, I had been marked.

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Bloody $!*% birds.

How eternally optimistic is our culture, when it tells us that something good, can come out of something bad…

Like that good luck comes from something as crap (pun intended) as when a bird unloads its bowels on you?

How hopeful is that?

Hubbie told me how he got bird shit on him as a kid in primary school. All his friends told him he would get good luck that day…

He went home and he waited… and waited… and waited.

And nothing came.

What a load of SHIT.

I like him, am still waiting….

But at least I got my walk. And at the end of the day, this sunset.

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Now that, gives me hope.

#1524 Day 26 of getting there: Mister F

Oh, our poor buddie. Just when we think it’s all going alright.

He just doesn’t seem to get a break.

Or maybe he did get a break, today. Depends on how you look at it all.

Because our cat Mister F, has had urinary issues of some sort for a while now. We took him to the vet today, and though some results came back great (no kidney stones or kidney disease!) we still don’t have an answer for some of his peculiar ailments.

So, it’s a bit of a TO BE CONTINUED.

Tonight, he slept on the rug. All cosied up, his paw over his face like –

“I’m trying to block the whole world out!”

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I hear you buddie. Lately, I hear you BIG TIME.

He didn’t have the best day, but he got to go home… and that’s what we look for around here isn’t it? Positivity? Appreciation?

HOPE. β™₯

#1344 A different festival

It’s that time of year where Mornington puts on a show and has it’s annual Main street festival.

We have gone every year since sea changing… it’s been 3 years in a row.

Today would have been 4… if we had gone.

But I had a more important festival to attend.

The Mornington Peninsula and Frankston Writers and Book Festival.

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Even the trees outside the venue, are MY trees. I love them. I see them all around the Peninsula. They are also the trees my story characters pass by on their way to school each day.

πŸ˜‰

It was an insightful couple of hours. I had booked into a workshop on ‘publishing.’ And though I got great tips and information on the industry, heard about the pros and cons of traditional versus self-publishing, I still walked away going “huh. I already knew a lot of that.”

It wasn’t that it wasn’t helpful. Just being in the room and sharing a table with other aspiring novelists was HUGELY beneficial. It motivated me in my writing dreams even further, and made me realise how important being a part of a writing community is, in sharing ideas, teaching each other information, and engaging in that writer-ly camaraderie, that feeling we get when we hear the other’s woes and go, ‘Ahh. I feel your pain.’

But the point at which I realised knowing what I already did was to my advantage, was when the workshop teacher, an editor and business owner of her own publishing company said to us –

“Often when I tell people all of this they become discouraged.”

A few people voiced their joking concerns.

“Ahh traditional publishing is too hard.”

“Self publishing is just as trying.”

Me? I was sitting there going… nope.

Been there, done that.Β 

Nothing about that process could scare me. I have been through the scenarios a million times in my head before. Sure there is a lot of luck and perseverance involved in finally getting your work out there and published…

But there is no other way for me. There is no other outlet. There is no alternative option.

Writing is the ONLY WAY.

And can I tell you a secret? Years ago when I used to read up on writing and publishing, the information I got back suggested at ‘if you are lucky enough to get published…’

Whereas nowadays it isΒ “when you get published…”

Either my sources have grown in reputation, maybe it’s the courses I am doing, or maybe I am deciphering the messages differently, as I grow more confident and positive, so too what I read becomes so…?

But I truly believe that to be the case. WHEN.

I got home from my workshop day, and then sat at the computer to do, what else…?

Work on another submission for my online course.

As Elizabeth Gilbert asked in Big Magic, “What is your flavour of shit sandwich?”

Guys, over and over again, I will pick writing. All flavours of shit just to be able to write.

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