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.

Kat

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The Devoted Heart

*Fire Woman

Well, with temperatures increasing again towards a scorching 43 degrees tomorrow – we are girding our loins, packing our bags and heading out of the hills to the relative comfort of St Kilda beach. The horror heat along with the forecast 100mph winds are definite bad guys in the war against bush fires and we are in no way prepared to stay and defend our property, hence our decision to get thee hence! When I say ‘willing’ I actually mean we have no credible fire safety plan rather than being prepared to stay and fight fire with, well hopefully, water. Besides which, our house feels like its on fire even when it’s not – we have no air conditioning, a fractious toddler and a whinging pom (that would be me then) to deal with, so it’s really best for everyone concerned if we stay away for the day.

As I completely buggared up my back last weekend and then had the chiro add insult to injury on Thursday, leaving me in great pain and in need of ice packs and a babysitter, I am currently about as flexible as the mummified remains of an episcopalian priest. This adds to the desire to get the hell away from any potential fire lest I become good kindling. Tomorrow is also the St Kilda Festival and that is very definitely another reason for leaving my home and heeding the call of the Siren of the Sea.

So – I am currently bubsy free (and missing her a bit if I’m honest) and am likely to be so until tomorrow morning. I know that I whinge a lot about wanting some time off from the crazy path of motherhood and then, when someone kindly obliges, I miss her horribly and fear that I will never see her again. I had to have my Bean fix, so I called up nanna and had a long discourse with Beanie about the relative merits of hanging up washing with pegs and a book that had a cow and a duck and a horse and a duck and a sheep and a duck in it. It was delightful. I’m a very lucky woman even if I often feel like a Banshee in dire need of prozac.

My darling Docwitchy is going through a tough time right now which has come unfortunately swiftly upon the heels of extricating herself from another tough time. My love goes out to you dearest rose of my heart. Remember to breathe and take it all one step at a time. It is often better to let go of the ultimate destination and simply trust in the step that is currently being illuminated.

Apart from the heat, the aching back and the sadness of dear friends, I am feeling more centred than I have in a long while. Mothering often produces more downs than ups for me and I end up in this giant whirlpool of regret being sucked under by guilt and by my concern about my ability to parent Beanie well. I know that regret and guilt are self-defeating emotions but it doesn’t always help to know that. If that makes any sense. I am, more often than I wish, a not very good parent. I won’t go into long boring detail about it all. I’ve said it all before. It just seems that despite my understanding of why I do what I do, I am still unable to prevent myself from doing it. Knowledge and wisdom are not the same thing.

This morning, after the first uninterrupted nights sleep in a long while, I meditated not once but twice. I immediately felt calmer and more present. It reminded me of my desire to connect more readily with Spirit and to really fully awaken the Divine within me. I have often said that it is not a matter of changing who we are but of becoming who we really are. I like that idea so much more than the idea of having to become someone different from who I am. It’s not that I won’t change, it’s more that the changes will not be enforced upon me from outside of myself – like squeezing myself into an ill fitting shoe. Unravelling is really where its at. Peeling back the layers of ‘stuff’ that accumulate upon one’s soul and around one’s true heart. The layers that mask our true selves from each other and very definitely from ourselves. I sometimes think that my heart is like a ruby covered by dirt and dust and leaves and 39 years worth of misunderstanding and hurt, shame and confusion. Every time I meditate, I feel like I start the process of lifting some of that debris from around my jewel bright heart. I start the process of allowing that heart to breathe some love into me. Of course, I often ignore it completely and find myself too ‘busy’ to meditate or find that something or someone pops up to prevent it from happening. I think that maybe this is just an outward sign of my inner resistance. I have to be prepared to do it anyway. To take this time to reconnect and to find my stillness and my breath and my ability to simply surrender to the moment, no matter what it contains.

Parenting takes us so often away from ourselves. From our needs, our desires, our dreams and our creativity. It need not be this way. I mean, of course we have less time to devote to these things and to ourselves, but we do have time. We simply have to reclaim it from the myriad of things we lose ourselves in or that we think just cannot wait. TV, reading, tidying up, browsing the internet, writing emails, texting, answering calls – all of these ‘needful’ things seem to interrupt the flow. We can take back 5 minutes here and 15 minutes there until we have an hour or more of time that we can call ours. Nap time and after bedtime are really good times to try and do something creative when your babies are still small. As they grow in independence, so does our time for ourselves. So even if you can only find 15 minutes in an average day, take it for yourself and use it wisely. Meditate maybe. I write down anything creative as it occurs to me in a notebook I carry with me for this purpose. It helps. I forget less and it doesn’t matter if I get distracted once its written. Anyway – that little bit of time for myself this morning helped a lot. I had a bigger smile for strangers and a gladness of heart that is not often present. And of course it made me miss my Beanie very much. I wanted to share my happy heart with her and to show her that sometimes mummy can be very, very good. I think its time I started my 5am vigil again. Time to once again let the Beloved in. What have I to lose except my chains? And what might I yet gain?

* In the arms of The Beloved

When you find yourself with the Beloved, embracing for

one breath,

In that moment you will find your true destiny.

Alas, don’t spoil this precious moment

Moments like this are very, very rare.

Rumi

* Fire Woman Picture courtesy of Fire Fairy

*’In the Arms of the Beloved’ picture courtesy of Cheryl Alexander Creations

I hear my tribe calling to me as leaves fall like green rain from the oak beside me. I will answer that call today.

May your caravan carry you safely back home to the beloved.

Grumpalot and the Crochety-Witch

Yes, despite my 30-days of Happiness, I have been dwelling in the land of Grumpalot behaving like a right old fish wife for the last week. In my defence I have been heavily, pre-menstrually hormonal and therefore a bit of a weepy, irritable and waspish mess. This leads directly to Grumaplot without passing go and without getting anywhere near $200.

So – I have been trying not to give in to it and have focused my attention on the little things in the day that make me happy. (*Generally anything containing chocolate). And I have found happiness every day which has been uplifting if only for a moment or two.

The second reason for my Crotchety-Witchypooness is due to my darling daughter deciding to wake up at 5am instead of 6am for the last 3 days. She has also been waking up screaming at 12.30 every night for the last 3 weeks, necessitating the Hubble moving into her roome very night from then until morning! Lonely bed for mummy and uncomfortable nights for Daddy. Our sofa bed needs throwing out to be honest. Every time you get into it all the blood rushest to your head! It’s never been the same since the stupid 12 year old removalists we hired let it drop out of the unsecured back of the removal van. These are also the boys who put our microwave on top of our beautiful wooden table with nothing in between resulting in two deep scars in the wood! Dickheads!

Third reason for crochety state is that aforementioned darling daughter has stopped eating anything remotely resembling food and osscilates between demanding ‘Bic! bic!’ (her word for biccies) and ‘Weeuws’ (her word for, you guessed it, the Wiggles). this has been very frustrating for me because she flat out refuses to even taste the food in front of her most of the time. If she does eat it she will pick out the pasta, or the cheese and leave whatever veggies are in it. It drives me craaaayyyyzeeeeee.

So – for these three reasons I have been less than chipper in general. I have been short tempered with Hubble and frustrated with bubsy. I have also been beyond tired. If there is something magical that I can do that will make me feel somewhere approaching human, I would be glad to know of it. I am taking vitamins and tonics from the naturopath but still I feel like a washed out dishrag.

Anywhoo, I am about to begin week 3 of my 30-day meditation programme and I am slowly working my way through all the of the tasks in my Artists Way. It’s been interesting to see from where the blows have come to my creativity. It took me a few days to remember the abusive principal of my post-graduate drama course in Oxford and the way he systematically made my life a living hell. He is, for the record, a tool. A tool who should NEVER, EVER be allowed to teach – ANYONE. I won’t go into the horrible, stupid and selfish things he did to us as students nor the very obvious dislike he had for me. I told him I thought he was a terrible teacher (though no perhaps with a tad more diplomacy than he ever used)so I at least didn’t lie down and let him walk all over me like some of the more timid students did. He was responsible for almost destroying my love of Shakespeare – thankfully it was rescued by a lovely voice teacher from The Royal Shakespeare Company at the end of the course. Anyway, as an actor he made me feel less than useless and he never took a single minute to think about the way he talked to me or whether what he said was an honest appraisal or just vindictiveness. Mostly it was the latter. Like the day he told me taht I had never felt anything deeply, he could tell by my eyes. I was, at that moment in time, in the midst of the most painful separation of my life and was struggling to stay on top of a crippling year long depression (only realised in hindsight). Like I said. A tool.

So – the creative process is unfolding, the wounds are being revealed, the scabs are being peeked under and the healing is underway. At least I hope it is!

I’m going to grump off now to the coffee table for a muffin and some tea.

Of Crafts, Creativity and Jumping from Frying Pan to Fire


Lately I have been suffering greatly from craft envy. I have found myself bemoaning my complete lack of talent in the crafty sewing stakes and have decided that instead of being such a wussy when it comes to making things from scratch, I will throw myself in at the deep end and have a bloody go. Now the problem with this enthusiastic (if terribly naive) approach to the whole business is that I am a horrible, horrible perfectionist. I have been blessed with one main talent in my life and that is that I have always been able to do pretty much anything I put my mind to without too much effort. I remember it began with ice-skating back when I was a tweenie. My mum had a friend whose daughter had had lessons and we all went to the ice rink. I sailed (literally) through my first ever experience on the ice including learning how to skate backwards, while said friends daughter clung to the side like a limpet. Same with horseriding, same with dance (for which I had a gift when I was much younger and less portly). However, this gift is not all its cracked up to be. Firstly it meant that my mum always had me (unconsciously) in competition with everyone else and that’s a kind of pressure that no kid needs and secondly, it meant that I became very impatient with any personal failure. This all translates to, if I can’t do it perfectly straight off, I am liable to set fire to it and myself.

Soooo, it is with cautious enthusiasm that I have set myself this project to be completed within the next 4-months in time for my daughters second birthday. Yes, its a sock monkey. I know it probably doesn’t seem like much but its a huge step for me. Y’see I love crafts. I have folders at home filled with pages torn from magazines and downloaded from the internet showing me how to do everything from producing the perfect Macaroni Cheeeeze to knitting myself a Bible. I positively salivate over the perfect images with a maniacal grin on my face. I dream of curling up on my newly upholstered sofa, eating the perfect macaroni cheese, striving not to get any on my newly knitted bible with a sock monkey sitting next to me.

I truly envy these amazing creative women whose blogs I have been pouring over. DocWitch is one such being for whom I have such admiration. Anyone who can do crafty things, raise a child, hold down a full time job AND have any time at all for other things is to be worshipped for the Godess/God that they truly are. Me? I’m lucky if I can get through an average day and cook dinner. I long to be more crafty. I love the idea of handmade things, of giving thoughtful, beautiful gifts to people I love that I have taken the time and energy to create myself. There is something so special about it. (BTW thank you for my Beanie’s gorgeous Crayon roll-up – she adores it and the crayons within. Many a wall in our house has been visited by her early impressionistic endeavours!). I’ve always had this thing, this quiet passion, for crafts and now I’ve discovered Family Circle magazine and completely fallen in love with it. I know. I’m so middle-aged it ain’t funny. It’s just that its chock full of great recipes and fantastic crafty ideas with ALL the instructions. And some of them I think I could actually do! So – having written in (blog)stone that I am going to make a sock monkey for my little monkey’s birthday, I will have to go ahead and do it. Lest the shame of this post hang over my head like those dreams where you find yourself in school naked and without your homework.

As if this wasn’t enough, I have also made another commitment (actually two)that started today. (I am nothing if not insanely optimistic when it comes to starting new things), I have commited to 30-days of Japa meditation. I’m not trying to manifest anything in particular, I just would like to revisit the stillness and peace I once experienced during an impromptu fire meditation and which I have written about in this blog (see post The Stillness We Seek). I need to quieten down my head for it is always so very busy in there. The third commitment I have made is to The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. So this morning, after my Japa meditation, I did my morning pages and this week I will go out with myself on my very first Artists Date. I’m very excited. I hope I bring myself flowers.

And so, it is with a burning hot bum (a result of leaping from Creative Frying Pan to Meditative Fire rather than because someone is sitting under my chair with an open flame) that I leave this post. I will be recording the effects of my 30-day meditation experiment AND I will be recording how I’m going with my sock monkey. I may also mention how things are going with The Artists Way. We’ll just have to see if I am still able to move under the weight of all these self-imposed obligations by next week.

PS. This post was rudely interrupted by Mother Nature plunging us into sudden darkness at around 10.30pm last night. We stumbled about in total blackness, walking into doors, tipping things over and knocking things off other things until I found a box of matches and began lighting the candles. Thank goodness for what DocWitch calls Witchypooness – my house is stuffed to the gills with candles and soon the house was lit up like Christmas. It was actually very romantic – I actually look good in candlelight. I retired to bed to read and felt very Jane Austin. Reading by candlelight, indeed brushing my teeth and washing my face by candlelight did have a very Pride and Prejudice feel to it. I almost expected a very arsy Darcy to come bursting into the room to tell me how ‘ardently I admire and love you…’ Well, a girl can dream can’t she? Yummmm. Sadly, he wouldn’t have had the time to step out of his britches as the lights suddenly came on again and life was back to its unromantic normality in seconds – though I noticed my hubby had grown a beard.

In and Out of My Mind

*see end of post
Today is the day I do my radio show on 3MDR 97.1FM. I am on air once a fortnight on Wednesdays between 3pm and 5pm – around abuot the time all the mummies are picking up their little kidlets. Today’s show is on Oriah Mountain Dreamer who I am enormous fan of and who I have mentioned on more than one occasion in this blog. Listening to her on audio, as I have been doing recently, is like taking a long walk through a silent, rain soaked forest. She has this quality of stillness about her that I just love. I can feel my muscles relax and my spirit sit up and take notice. This is an amazing feat in itself, especially as I am so often ‘Hi, I’m currently out of my mind, please leave a message or call back later.’ I have often said that if all the tension were taken out of my body the rest of me would simply dissolve into a pool of slightly sticky regret. I am, by my own admission, a little neurotic, a little over-anxious and more than a little stressed. But that is, at least for now, just how I am. I’m learning to be ok with it. I am also fervently hoping that in my spiritual unfolding there will be a way for me to reach back into the woman I really am at the core of me. The one that is unperturbed by external circumstances, the one that loves deeply, rests well and embraces the ‘now’ fearlessly. Oriah, who seems to have lived in my skin, is my way of reminding myself that I have choices, that I can choose to simply let go and ‘be’ without worrying if the dinner will get made or if my daughter will wake up for the fortieth time in the night and need me. I can, at least for a little while, be ok if she does. This is why I like her so much.

My chronic tiredness continues unabated and has been joined by the evil little fuckers that are insomnia and restless leg syndrome. Neither is a welcome bedfellow. Insomnia snores and farts under the covers while I gasp for a wiff of the cool still air of dreaming and Restless Leg Syndrome makes my calves disco dance all night long. They both have me tossing and turning like a demented swing dancer. I HATE not being able to sleep. It adds insult to over-tired injury and makes me crankier than a whore past her sell-by date. And yet, I still have to get up, take care of my child, cook nourishing food and make time to write and run my business, when what I would actually like to do is fall into a sleep to rival Sleeping Beauty’s and kick the living shit out of anyone who dares to try and wake me. I am NOT a morning person. In fact, I very rarely feel like a person at all. Not sleeping really is a torture and its impact on mind and body are very much underestimated in my humble opinion. I am a good deal less fun to be around when I have slept little and I am a lot more likely to forget to do important things like locking the door (or even shutting the door on one particular day), putting on my seatbelt, checking the straps on the car seat once I have my beanie strapped in, making sure I take my keys with me. That kind of thing. Beanie also gets the rough end of a very sharp tongue. Not good.

On the good news front I have emptied out our extremely messy store room and created in its place a lovely jewel of a meditation room. I hope to drag my sorry carcass from the warm cocoon of bed at the ungodly hour of 5am in order to get some ‘omming’ in and some writing done. It looks amazing. Filled with the smoke of copal and frankincense which always make me feel like a priestess in some ancient temple. I have lovely sari covered indian cushions to sit on and a soft blanky to wrap around me for those cold mornings. The altar is an oasis of peace which I can choose to stare at or ignore depending on my mood. (well, actually, I know exactly what sort of mood I’ll be in but I will persevere nonetheless).

Post Script:
I’m back and I really must stop drinking coffee, especially instant coffee (which I never normally drink). I haven’t stopped twitching yet. I drove over to the station looking like this… and totally rocked out to the Black Eyed Peas. Let me state for the record that one should NEVER listen to the Black Eyed Peas if one wants to arrive anywhere even remotely sane and definitely never on a weird coffee high that has already lasted for more than 5 hours! Nescafe is evil and must be punished. Still, fun drive though. Felt like a total badass and everyone needs to feel the funk occasionally – even if they are nearing 40 and wearing tracksuit pants and ugg boots.

The show went well I think. It’s difficult for me to really be objective about such things as I’m a horrible perfectionist and never feel that I’ve done a great job of anything. However, it seemed to go ok and I am still a newbie at this broadcasting malarky and one must take that into consideration (something that I rarely do!). I actually really resonated with Oriah’s suggestion that one can sacrifice something like perfectionism in favour of wholeness and would like to try that for a while and see if it helps.

More damper. Yes. Now please.

Anyway, I’m anxious to go ‘Slow Down and Let Go’ in my meditation room. Ha! Anxious to meditate. There’s an oxymoron if ever there was one. So I’ll leave you with a thought.

Beauty is the doorway to silence.

Like I said, please leave a message or call back later…

* the image at the top of the post is of two hand carved bangles by Jessica Cushman and can be purchased if you’ve a spare $130 knocking around. I wish!

My Twilight Dreams


*I added this picture purely because it’s called Twilight and I love the simplicity and drama of the image. I haven’t read the book or seen the movie but now that I’ve seen this, I might.

Ahhh – I love this time of day in Winter (which it officially is now). The day is emptying of its busyness as people move indoors to end their day and to maybe build a fire or perhaps prepare something warm and yummy for their families. At this time of day I like sit in my gorgeous bush garden just for a few moments as the cool mist starts to creep in. I breathe deeply and watch the sun slipping its heavy golden head below the horizon. It’s a time to surrender the day to the Sun God and to welcome the Dark Night Goddess as her slivered moon rises slowly in the West.

Basking in those few moments of lingering gold I wonder how anything could ever be wrong in my world. We are surrounded by such beauty, such diversity and such wonder if we can just sit still enough to see it and, more importantly, let it see us. I am not someone who meditates regularly so these few moments in the twilight of each day are my time to reconnect with all that is most important to me. I can sing chants or simply ‘OM’ into the shadows while my wee girl chases our black furball around the garden. Poor Belladonna, not much of a chance for peace while the beanie is around but she wears it all well and is (mostly) patient with her rather rough ministrations. I am also not someone who finds it particularly easy to surrender – to anything, wanted or unwanted. I think that I am relatively highly strung by nature and so spend most of my waking unconsious hours clinging on to my life with ever whiter knuckles so again, these twilight times are my way of acknowledging that there is something, some Great Mystery that is so much bigger than me and yet is also a part of me and in which I am learning to trust. I can breathe and sing and let go. Sometimes this time brings me an wonderful sense of peace which I can take into my last activities of the day – preparing a meal for my family, washing up, following the usual bed time rituals with my girl and all the way into sleep. Sometimes it lasts just long enough to prevent me from snapping at my daughter as she paints the kitchen floor with my tenderly prepared soul food. Occasionally, it reminds me to forgo the tiny pleasures of the goggle box and to sit quietly with my Beloved man and read in companiable silence. On even more quiet spirited evenings, this glossy silence allows us to enter into the soul-gazing and generous lovemaking that we hope will result in another little soul being welcomed into our tiny family, to stretch our hearts and to expand our small world. And from these small adventures in my bush garden I am able to remember that I am, to coin a cliche, a spiritual being having a human experience which is, in turn, a reminder to be awake to each moment and to be grateful.

As I sit here in my study, candles burning, incense wafting through the warm air currents created by the ducted heating, I watch with growing love, my hubby and my daughter doing father/daughter stuff in the garden. He throwing her around like a stuffed teddy, she giggling with delight. Both waving up at me from the darkening green and smiling with affection and humour. I am blessed. I know this. The sun is nearly gone now and it is almost too dark in this room to see but I am loath to turn on a light and lose these cosy feelings of connectedness with everything. Electric lights seem to bleach all the atmosphere from a room and I am a creature for whom atmosphere is important. Still, I must go. Like many mothers my culinary expertise is needed in the kitchen and there is a cubed pumpkin with my name on it waiting to be turned into some hearty pumpkin soup.

It is a night for poetry of the spirit so I will leave you with an offering from my Beloved Rumi: Dance with the Bandage Torn Off.

Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free.

Struck, the dancers hear a tambourine inside them,
as a wave turns to foam on its very top, begin.

Maybe you don’t hear that tambourine,
or the trees leaves clapping time.

Close the ears on your head
that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes.
There are other things to hear and see:
dance-music and a brilliant city
inside the Soul.
God said of Muhammed,
He is an ear.
He was wholly ear and eye,
and we are refreshed and fed by that,
as an infant boy is at his mother’s breast.

Good night and may the Goddess of this deep and dark bring you strange and brilliant dreams.