Dream A Little Dream

Leonie Dawson

Right now. As I write. I’m putting the call out to all Entrepreneurs, Mamas, Artists, Healers, Creative Souls, Dreamers and Women ready to shine!

I absotively, posolutely never do this but I really, really want to take the time to share this resource with you because it honestly is for something worthwhile. So, before you roll your eyes and back away slowly, take a look.

Leonie Dawson is a wonderful woman who created something amazing called The Goddess Circle. It’s a place where 20,000+ women learn and play and create and get excited about their lives every day and where they can access all the wisdom, tools and support they need to finally get to live their dreams. Doesn’t that sound awesome?

Despite it’s name it is not, I promise you, just for the rainbow wearing, new age, overly gullible types who waft from room to room on a cloud of their own joyous juices. It is for women, like me, who dream of finding my ‘path with heart’ and being able to make a living following it.

Leonie has done with her life what many of us wish we could do with ours. AND she’s shared the hows and whys and everything she has learned along the way. Pretty generous, no?

Now I have no wish to refer to myself (now or at any time) as a ‘Goddess’ but I have paid up for my second year with the Goddess Circle because just the Business Goddess course is worth the paltry $99 I paid for another years membership. And just wait until you see all the other courses, audio courses, creativity courses, meditations and everything else you get included for FREE in that one tiny payment. Yup. It might seem like a lot of money until you actually go and look at everything you get. Seriously, I was quite taken aback when I joined. Two years on and I still haven’t taken advantage of everything she offers because she keeps adding more!

So, do yourself a favour – don’t be put off by the inital hippy-ness of it. Don’t be put off by the floweriness of the language sometimes. Leonie is in the process of shaking off the hippier elements of her website and making it more mainstream and more accessible to people who don’t use the word ‘Goddess’ like most people use the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. I had to get past all that too. But I am truly glad that I did.

Use this link or the ones above to take a look around and, if you like what you see, and are as blown away as I was by how little it costs for the whopping amounts of benefits, then you can use my affiliate link and sign up before the costs rise, which they are due to do on the 3rd of July. If you love it like I do, then using my link means I earn a little money (which as a stay at home mamma of two, is lovely so thank you,) and you get to finally get your dreams in motion with a little bit of help from a woman who has doubled her income every year for the last five! Call me shallow if you will but I know I’d like to do that.

Or if any of the links don’t work for some reason – copy & paste this link (http://tinyurl.com/cr4anv3) into your browser and have a poke around. (These are not spam pages, I cross my heart). See who else is there, what you can get for your moula, which of the many courses appeal to you, if any. If it’s not for you then the most you have lost is 15 minutes of your time. If you find something that grabs you, then sign up now before the price doubles (which it will on 3rd of July).

I hope you find something that you love and that Leonie inspires you, as she does me, to get out there and DREAM BIG. What’s the worst that can happen?

Enjoy, my friends.



Confetti Heart

“Eternally, woman spills herself away in driblets to the thirsty, seldom being allowed the time, the quiet, the peace, to let the pitcher fill up to the brim.”
Anne Morrow Lindbergh – Gift From The Sea

I read these words and recognise within them my own self, as it is perpetually dribbled away into a million different needs and deeds. I feel sharply the sliver of resentment belonging to my wild gypsy self, who longs to give herself fully to the dance, to the work of art, to the concerto, to life. And is instead taught to be happy with creating only small wonders who may go on to become great masters in time. Is this all a mother is? A spinner of the threads of a future miracle? If so, that’s not a bad thing to be. And yet, surely beyond the sculpting and tender nurturance of these warm and splendid mini-selves, there must be something that belongs only to us? Something deeper and more profound than spilling ourselves away, droplet by droplet into others?

As I ponder my hubble’s suggestion to take a sabbatical, to retreat in the face of current difficulties in order to find my equilibrium again, I wonder if I know what peace is. Would I know peace if it came up and greeted me with flowers? Hell would I know it if it bit me on the ass? Probably not. I know what peace is not. It is not waking up with a tight jaw and aching eyes after a night of restless sleep. It is not this knot in my stomach or the nausea that comes from living with my shoulders as ear- muffs. It is not hearing myself laugh and being shocked at how alien it sounds. No. That is not peace. Peace slips in under the coat of solitude, holding quiet by the hand.

The Attraction of Distraction
Many of us spend a good deal of our time disappearing into different distractions so as not to find ourselves alone in a room with silence. Or worse – ourselves. There is tv, movies, books and music and all of these are noble and enjoyable distractions. We can pick up the phone, get online, text or message each other in an instant. If we don’t have someone actually with us, we have something in our ears or our hands or our mouths. We are contactable at every moment and we are available to each other instantly. And therein lies the problem. There are so many opportunities to be busy, to be distracted, to be involved but there are few opportunities to be quiet. Few opportunities for stillness. In fact, given half an hour of quiet we will fill it with a hundred necessary and important things and never even notice the glass of ourselves slowly emptying until it reaches the bottom and we are still required to give.

I love a good distraction as much as the next girl. I can easily lose myself in books or movies or even music. And yet, despite the almost constant thread of resentment at the level of sacrifice required of me as a mother, I spend my time looking at yet more ways that I can give to this little being. It’s as if I am searching for any hole in my psyche through which the ‘perfect mother’ can slip out. Surely, if I can bake the bread, or offer the milk or cookies, or make the doll, then I am one step closer to digging out this recalcitrant mother within. If only I can become the nurturer, the creative playmate, the laughing, relaxed mamma I know I can be, this depleted, worn out soul will be renewed. And so I continue to seek avenues of nourishment for this little soul I love so much. Is it martyrdom? It certainly can be. But it can also be simply what mothering requires. A slow disintegration of the self in order to have room to birth and hold and shelter these precious little beings. No wonder many new mothers are shell shocked in those first few months. Or, if you are me, few years.

I realise that I am not a natural nurturer. I have resisted domestication like a feral cat. I have chaffed at the bit of commitment until my mouth is bloody. Yet all the answers I seek, all the avenues I am currently exploring to find wellness again, are not for myself primarily. They are for her. For my beautiful, golden-haired Beanie girl. So that I may give freely and not feel poorer for it. So that I may lose myself and not care so very much about what is gone. So that I will stop trying to find and stick together all the little coloured pieces of my beautiful confetti heart.

I know she will be a masterpiece. I know, on all the levels that truly matter, she is my greatest work.

Yet I still hold dark dreams of a self that lives only for itself. That creates purely for the joy of creation. That follows the wind with a glad heart and a radiant smile. And who knows peace as a good friend.

Who’s with me?

*Photos from here
and here.