Posts Tagged ‘Lessons’

8 Lessons I wish I had learned already

Friday, June 4th, 2010

This post was originally called ‘Shit I wish I could stop doing’ but I thought better of it. This is a list of mistakes I seem to keep making. Again and again and again. Sometimes despite being aware that it is an issue!

  1. Self awareness isn’t instinct. Not everybody analyses their thoughts and behaviors. For me to assume everybody knows why they are doing what they are doing is a recipe for trouble.
  2. Test, prepare, have a run through. Don’t use a new recipe for an important occasion. If you must use a new recipe then test it first or have enough ingredients for a second run if the first needs serious tweaking (if icing can’t hide the atrocity).
  3. I should not have to apologise for who I am. No explanation necessary, lets just say that again. I should not have to apologise for who I am.
  4. Make an end date. Whatever the arrangement, build in an end date or at least a review date. We get comfortable with discomfort rather quickly, an opportunity, and impetus, to re-assess is important.
  5. If it needs to be said, say it. Holding back for fear of hurting someone else, will probably hurt you. Say it with love and not anger, but say it. The compassionate thing to yourself (and the other in the long run) is to speak up.
  6. Guilt serves no-one. Least of all you. Guilt arises in 2 situations; 1) you have done something you don’t agree with. This is simple to rectify – apologise and make amends. 2) you are taking responsibility for somebody’s feelings (hurt, anger). The answer here is get over it! You are never responsible for how another feels. That is their shit, let them deal with it.
  7. Downtime isn’t optional. Balance reigns supreme. Not necessarily on a daily basis, but in the long run you either rest as hard as you work, or you will be forced to stop by something beyond yourself.

What do you wish you had learned already?

After a While Wednesday

Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010

After a while…

…I will realise that everybody is struggling within themselves to be the best they can be

…I will forgive myself my mistakes

…I will get used to early mornings

…I will come to grips with the transformative power of honest emotions

…I will learn that licking the bowl invariably makes me feel sick

…I will return to my better self

…I will quieten the inner critic long enough to think clearly about the future

After a while…

Thursday, May 27th, 2010

The following poem was a life-saver to me when I was in a really black hole. There is a tremendous amount of power, wisdom and hope in its words. Power, wisdom and hope that became the light at the end of the tunnel when there seemed to be no other.

At the moment I, and some of my dearest girlfriends, are having a pretty crap time. Yes, we are doing what we choose. Yes we are walking in the general direction of our dreams. Yes there is forward motion. But it feels like we are walking slowly into the wind up a damned big hill. (The fact that is feels like we are walking hand in hand helps though.)

I have heard myself, and my besties, say ‘why did no-one tell us it would be like this?‘ too often in recent months. I guess nobody told us because we would have chickened out, run or laughed in their face. I am clinging to the sentiment that these dark periods are normal, natural and necessary. Thrashing around in a cocoon is necessary for a butterfly to be strong enough to fly when the time comes.

With that in mind, and permission from the author (she gave me permission years ago and I had not had the right occasion, till now) I give you After a while

After a while you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and chaining a soul

And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning

and company doesn’t always mean security

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises

And you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes ahead

with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child

And you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns

if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure

that you really are strong

and you really do have worth

And you learn and you learn

with every goodbye you learn …

Copyright 1971 Veronica A. Shoffstall.

Image credit

The darkest hour

Monday, April 19th, 2010

5If you tell me you haven’t had your fair few dark hours, then you are one of two things; 1) a liar, 2) someone who has never lived. This post is for the rest of us.


We know that the darkest hour is just before the dawn. Crazy but true. If you are anything like me, you underestimate how dark it can get. You are craving the light like a fashion junky craves new Jimmy Choo’s because you are certain that it can’t possibly get any darker than this moment. You are wrong. Invariably we are wrong. We underestimate how much darkness we can withstand. We cannot quantify how much darkness we can swallow whole. You know it really is the darkest hour when you stop expecting the light.

It really does not get any darker than pitch black. So black that you are sure a blackness this profound must go on, and on, and on. That is the darkest hour. That is also the switch that calls in the light. When we are immersed in darkness and instead of denying it, hating on it, rejecting it or feeling guilty for it we do something radical; We accept the darkness. Something magical happens in that moment.

The darkness doesn’t devour you are you feared it would. You devour the darkness.

Women, especially, were designed for this role. We are the life-death-life mother embodied. We take light and make it dark, only to make it light again. We are great transmuters. We inherited that gift from our mother, THE great transmuter – Mother Earth. She takes crap, I mean real crap, and uses it to nourish herself. Nature takes dung, rotten leaves and plants, carcasses and breaks them down into fertiliser. She uses fire to cleanse her skin and baby shoots and saplings sprout in the ashes.

Don’t underestimate your capacity for darkness and certainly don’t disown it. Shunned darkness turns into wickedness. Shunned darkness becomes dangerous. Darkness owned is transforming. It wasn’t until I realised that “I could never hurt my baby” was a lie, that my full capacity for mothering was born. It wasn’t until I hurt my husband in the worst possible way, that our relationship could be born. It isn’t until we swallow whole the suffering of the world that our compassion is born. (There are many examples of meditations to assist with this. This is an example that I *LOVE*)

Something I know for sure: Your lightest hour will only be as intense as your darkest. Embrace the dark.

*image credit

Love is…

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

I was married this past weekend. Did you see my vows? It tells you something about the sensitivity of my husband or perhaps his skills as an orator to say that his vows barely left a dry eye in the house while mine got our teary guests laughing (not only because I had no voice and sounded like a B-grade sex line).

Now I have never believed that love was blind, but my fortnight of hell – the two weeks leading up to the wedding – and the 3 days since has clearly shown me something all together different. Love is stupid.

Love is stupid AND blind. Love is actually borderline insane. Love cannot read the writing on the wall. Even if it wanted to.

Before the wedding my body began a revolt. I got a cold. The glands in my throat began to swell, swallowing became difficult. In the final days when I should have been organizing final details (like my now non-existent guest book) I was curled up in bed trying to convince a snotty toddler than ‘Mummy sleeping’ was a fun game. I trod on a rusty thumbtack. I pulled a chunk of glass from that same foot a few days later. My chin broke out in pimples two days before the wedding and the day before the nuptials, the day my guests arrived, I began to lose my voice.

In addition to this, the recent flooding in Victoria washed away the only thing I had my heart set on – purple hydrangeas. So the décor was changed from mauve to neutral to cover all possibilities. Fantastic thinking too, because we ended up with green flowers. Yes, Green! They looked fantastic though. Bless our outstanding florist. My parents had their breaks fail on the way to the wedding. No I am not kidding. Oh, and the power went off 30 minutes before I was to walk down the aisle – while I was in the middle of getting my hair done. So my hair was finished off in my parents’ converted bus (it was stationary by now, don’t worry). One of our musicians (a dear friend) dislocated his shoulder. Lucky for us he was staunch enough to drive to the mountains and play guitar all with a shoulder that should have been in a sling!

My point? Yes I do have one – other than to whine about all of the tiny things that drove me insane – is this; if so many things were to go wrong in the lead up to any other event I would have reconsidered. I would have pondered the possibility that the universe/god/whoever was trying to tell me something. I would have read the writing on the wall.

But alas, love is blind and stupid. Instead I had a wonderful wedding. And that night suffered from a gastro bug and since then my cold has only gotten worse, my voice hasn’t returned and I have developed a rash, all over my body. In short – I am allergic to marriage.

If love hadn’t blinded me and robbed me of my intelligence, I would read the writing on the wall.

A decade ago today…

Wednesday, December 30th, 2009

Your whole world can change in a minute. A second, even. A single decision can shape your life. Or at least I used to think so. Now days before the ‘noughties’ comes to a close I’m not so sure.

A decade ago, today, I was faced with the biggest challenge of my life. No I am not talking about a regular rite of passage either. It was traumatic. I knew right then that my life had changed forever. But it took days, months and even years for the fallout to settle and for all of the consequences to manifest. I spent years putting my life back together. I was certain, absolutely certain, that some of the changes were irrevocable. I was sure, and told many times, that this one event would define and dominate my life forever. That a decision (made by someone else no less) had changed me.

We were wrong. The tragedy has been totally erased from my life. All that remains are faint physical scars. Yes I have been changed by the experience. I am stronger and wiser than I would have been otherwise. But the essence of who I am, and indeed, who I was always going to be never changed. The things that define me now, the corner stones of my life, are the things I was told as a result of the tragedy I would never achieve.

Like a bubbling stream we move around the boulders in our path, ever flowing towards the ocean. The path of least resistance, our natural desire, delivers us time and time again to where we were always going to go. No boulder can harm the stream or define it, and in time the water will wear it down until that boulder is indistinguishable from the rest of the pebbles.

A decade ago, today, I was faced with the biggest challenge of my life. Looking back it was no different to every other challenge – it just took longer to overcome.

The paradox of delirium

Friday, December 18th, 2009

It is 2:46am and I am just sitting down to blog. One of my favourite songs from high school is playing on the radio and my kitchen and bathroom, despite 11 hours of work on them in the past 2 days, looks the same as they did on Tuesday.

I feel like I could run a marathon… well I guess this is how it would feel if I was ever ready to run a marathon. Which is unlikely. I think I would sooner birth an alien life form than be capable of a marathon, but I digress. My point is I am not tired. Instead of weary I am feeling that particular kind of restlessness you feel eating breakfast before a big trip – eating faster won’t achieve anything other than indigestion, but none the less you are chomping at the bit to get things underway. I know I have worked because my feet are sore and my back is aching. My skin has a beautiful glow to it, that on closer inspection is just dust particles stuck to the film of perspiration (yes ladies perspire, they don’t sweat) on my skin. I am finding it difficult to focus, as the paragraph above demonstrates beautifully, but I am not tired.

This is delirium.

Delirium is terrible and wonderful state that I haven’t experienced for a while. I remember as a teenager reaching this state just before the hangover kicked in after a HUGE night where nobody slept until after the sun came up. I remember delirium overcoming me after crying until the tears ran dry and the pillow felt like a sponge. I remember this feeling creeping in after a weekend where the only times my partner and I ventured out of the bedroom was for water and to go to the bathroom. (Yes, love really can sustain you. For a few days at least.) This is how it felt the night my son was born.

Delirium allows you to function, but without focus.

Your conscious mind is sleeping on the job (it just puts the body on autopilot) and your whimsical, emotional, symbolic unconscious mind has control.

Perhaps that is why I found myself almost tearful looking at my tidy kitchen. Very little has changed, but every single object has been removed, cleaned, vetted and returned. Everything has a place and a purpose. My favourite little corner of the world (my kitchen) could not be more perfect.

Lesson: Inner peace is most often not achieved through meditation (unless you are a monk). The rest of us find peace in the ordinary.

How I failed as a liberated woman (Google first and shoot second.)

Monday, December 14th, 2009

I am a strong, independent woman of the 21st century. I am a card-carrying feminist. Don’t believe me? Ask anybody who ever jokingly told me to ‘get back in the kitchen’, or anybody who so much as mumbled a chauvinistic comment around me since I was 5.

Yes, you heard me 5. There is a story my parents enjoy telling of a christmas party that I attended when I was a child. My father was in the Navy and at the time he was working with Navy divers. Now, just to fill you in Navy Divers are crazier than cut snakes. Men only join the clearance diving team if they are over the top mucho wankers with waaaaay more brawn than brains. So back to the christmas party. This diver spilt a beer on me and my pretty party dress. When I asked him to apologise (as would be the civilised thing to do) he made a comment about not apologising to a ‘little girl’. Let’s just say that he didn’t live down the dressing down he received from a 5-year-old ‘little girl’, until he got his new posting.

My history of fearlessness and standing on my own two feet started early, and it only got worse as I got older. In year 6 I was reprimanded for highlighting the plight of women in Saudi Arabia in my turn of show and tell. My show was the book Princess and I read aloud carefully selected excerpts, which the teacher deemed ‘inappropriate’. In year 7 I was sent from the room for asking my religion teacher the position of the Church on teenage prostitution in Australia. And by year 10 I was already a member of a political organisation, only responding to the title ‘comrad’ and espousing a lecture to anybody who greeted me with ‘you’re looking good’ because how fucking sexist is it that the first comment we make to women (not men) is that their physical appearance is pleasing!

Now let us fast forward to the failure my 5-year-old self would have kicked my arse for.  I have never been good with bugs. Or dirt for that matter. I have always been a bit of a girly girl ( no, the irony is not lost on me) and I freaked when there was a hornet, in my living room. In a nano-second I had nothing but adrenalin coursing through my veins. Because this hornet was HUGE! And also, my baby’s Daddy is allergic to wasps and bees. So there is every chance my baby could have an anaphylactic response to a sting AND since we are at home without a car, such a response could be fatal. Or at least this was the train of thought that was on constant loop in my mind. So you understand why my body chose flight over fight.

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This could have been a perfectly respectable Mamma bear protecting baby bear situation, but it quickly degenerated into a farce. I grabbed the baby and my blackberry (the weapon of the 21st century) and ran into the hall trapping the hornet in the living room & kitchen. Then I was afraid it would make a nest for itself in the toys or the couch. Imagining scenes of me returning to the room for food and water, only to be exposed 360 degree to the wrath of the hornet, I opened the door a crack to spy on it. Then I made a few calls for advice. My mother, from whom I inherited my feminism, could do nothing but laugh and tell me to ‘squish it’. Thanks Mum, I hadn’t thought of that. My Nan advised me to hit it with a broom. When I advised her that I didn’t have a broom, she was too busy trying to figure out ‘what kind of woman doesn’t own a broom’? and forgot all about the hornet. My Aunt had no advice at all, but she did decide to buy me a fly swatter for christmas. Woot!

I rallied my courage, donned a long sleeve shirt (in case it tried to sting me as I squished it) and snuck back into the room armed with a shoe. I was sure I could do it. I mean I faced my fear of heights by abseiling, I faced my fear of snakes by petting a python and I managed to make it through labour in a meditative state. I can be both hunter and gatherer. I am woman hear me roar!

Minutes later I ran screaming from the room and called for my partner, in tears, to come home and kill it. Which he did. = Fail.

I learned multiple lessons from this failure:

  1. Australia has Hornets (who knew?) Australian Hornets are non-agressive nectar eating creatures that only sting to paralyse caterpillars to feed their young.
  2. Ignorance is the root of all major fuck-ups. The better you understand your enemy (read situation, person or stinging insect) the more likely you are to find a reasonable solution without degenerating to tantrums or violence. In short Google first, shoot second.



Schedule your inspiration

Friday, December 11th, 2009

It is your day off. You have been looking forward to this time for weeks. You have a list as long as your arm of relaxing things that you will spend these precious hours doing. You realise half way through the day that it is not possible to get everything done and your day will be anything but relaxing. You rush from errand to appointment and back again ending at home utterly exhausted, wishing that you had just picked up take away on your way home from work, because that (or getting a root canal) would have been less stressful. Does this ever happen to you?

This phenomena is born of two things:

  1. We grossly underestimate how long it takes to ‘do’ something
  2. We focus too much on the exhalation (the execution of a task) and forget the inspiration (the space between tasks)

I often plan to do something before I go to bed, like have a cup of tea and some chocolate or give myself a mini facial or read or write a blog or whatever. Two nights a week, if I am absolutely on fire, I will do one of those things before I go to bed. Instead I usually pack up the baby’s toys, pack the dishwasher and clean the kitchen benches, organise lunches for tomorrow, write my other half a lovely note for him to wake up to, put a load of washing on, balance the budget or any of the millions of mundane necessary things that I never include in my schedule.

This isn’t simply a Mum thing either. I know I used to plan meetings back to back when I worked in finance, giving myself 5 minutes to go to the bathroom and re-fill the water jug, only to find that the clients were early, my staff needed to run some issues past me, the printer was stuffed and the documents hadn’t printed and that I had a million emails to address.

Planning and scheduling is important. I think it is impossible minimise stress without knowing, for the most part, what needs to be done and allocating time for it. But so many of us don’t schedule to our priorities and only schedule a fraction of our tasks, but allocate them the majority of our time.

Lesson: To live with a sense of tranquility schedule the inspiration as well as the exhalation. And as any good yoga teacher will tell you; if you want to relax the inspiration should be as long as the exhalation.

7 lessons from letting go

Friday, November 27th, 2009

We have all kinds of excuses for holding onto what hurts us. Millions of reasons why this is the only way. Examples why we have no choice but to do it this way. Justifications galore for clutching tight, even though the sharp edges cut into our grasping hands.

Maybe it is a good thing gone sour.

Maybe it is something you ‘should’ do.

Maybe it was perfect……. once.

Maybe you were just trying to do the right thing. And the text books are wrong this time.

Maybe you don’t know any other way.

Maybe you are scared of the devil you don’t know.

Maybe you are afraid because you don’t know what comes next.

Maybe you want to hold onto your victimhood.

Maybe it serves someone else – someone you love.

Maybe you are afraid of being judged.

Maybe you can’t bring yourself to face the truth.

We all need help, coaxing and support to get past our doubts. Some fears, despite the hype, are more than tissue paper-thin. I know the taste of tears of defeat. I know how it feels to surrender the thing that no longer works. I know the pain you are accustomed to feels better than the empty throb of loss. But it is a life lesson to recognise when to let go.

7 lessons I learned from letting go:

  1. So many friends show up when you stop making love to enemies ( a Marianne Williamson quote that is so very true)
  2. It hurts a lot at first to turn it loose. Then the pain eases. The pain is just the numbness subsiding.
  3. You deserve comfort, dignity and peace. Life will never be rainbows and lollipops, so avoid the unnecessary pain.
  4. Pain shows us where the lesson is. And where the chapter ends.
  5. There is nothing weak about walking away when you need to. Many people don’t have the strength to do exactly that.
  6. Nobody likes a martyr.
  7. Admitting it hurts doesn’t make the ‘other’ bad or wrong.

What have you learned from letting go?