The Shadow, the Void, the Empty is a thing of holiness.

When we sit with this great nothingness we sit with one of the truths and puzzles of being human. 

We sit with the idea that it all has no meaning. That all of our striving is for nothing. 

What is my purpose? My meaning? What am I leaving behind? Who will remember me? What is the point?

Well, what if there is none? What if we sit with the thought that there is no purpose?

I think it could be freeing. 

So it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. It will not be remembered.

What if I sat with the void and gave it its worth, its voice.

What if what I do is not important to the world. Or to those close to me. 

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What if it is only important to me.

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What if I sit in my own forest, my own sense of self, and be. Move and breathe and feel from there. To sit there. To sit right there.

What if I free myself from worrying about my impact on the world and feel only my impact on me.

And then the thought comes that I am of the world.

And given I am of the world, then what I do has an impact on the world. Whatever I do. 

So in fact, everything I do has purpose. Everything. 

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So it would be wise to pay attention to whether I like what I’m doing. To pay attention to how it makes me feel.

In fact, the only measure of worth or value is how what I’m doing makes me feel. 

Then, surely, if it feels nourishing, compassionate, pleasurable, joyful to me then I’m impacting the world with those feelings. Because I am of the world. 

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Ah, the void. Full of nothing. Full of everything.

There are many, many (oh so many) things about my house and garden that I’d like to change or make better. The garden isn’t prolific enough, the house seems to always be in some state of disarray, the washing is endless, the walls needs a paint, the weeds, dear god the weeds. 

And it feels like every time I start one of the jobs, all I can think about are the other jobs and how they’re not being done. And even if I did a big chunk of them, that wouldn’t be enough and more jobs would loom. 

And the jobs I’ve already done will need to be done again in a day or two.

It’s enough to make me not do any of them.

I am learning the art of enough. Clean enough. Tidy enough. Enough for today.

And is this view of my world also how I view myself? Not enough? Too much mess to be worthy of love? 

I hate to admit it but…maybe. There’s so much in me I want to say and do but I don’t do any of it because it’s not good enough, or finished enough, or tidy enough. So I don’t show the world the skills I have because they’re not enough, finished enough, good enough. Tidy enough. 

It’s easy to find the flaws. I look for the flaws. Which means all I see are flaws. And why would I want to flaunt my flaws?!

The solution, of course, is to do a bit. Weed a bit, do one load of washing. Rest. Yes, there is more to do, but isn’t there always? Write a bit. Rest.

Yes it’s flawed, but isn’t everything?

Everything you need is within you.

I have nettle growing in my garden. It’s a pain in the bum to weed and its sting is like an electric bolt through my head. The sting lasts for ages. Nettle is a bitch.

Nettle can be soaked in water for a week or four and made into a tea.

It becomes a very powerful and useful compost. It can heal plants, it helps them to thrive. 

Nettle. 

That bitching, mean, no-holds-barred weed, that mean-looking, pain inducing plant is one of the best healers in my garden.

Hmmm.

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There are places in me I don’t want to go. Pain places. Shame places. Dark and mean places.

But if I gently breath and tenderly choose to sit through the warning sting and the pain, then these places quietly work on me. 

They transform me. They become my teachers, my greatest healers. 

Often I’ve found my shame has been a way to protect me from being seen. Because being seen has brought me pain in the past. 

In sitting with and through this wound/pain/shame, it composts. It encourages me to parent myself, gently care for myself. 

This work invites me to be an adult, not a wounded child.

The answer to my garden’s ill health is growing in my garden. 

The answer to my pain is in me.

All things are of God. 

the holy terror

the night

the dark deep empty void of nothingness

the lost 

the certainty that this time you are truly alone

the hateful lashing out

the last time

the first time

the nightmare

the 3am fear that grips you awake and keeps you there

That’s god.

And right there, in the middle, humming with power, is you. 

The glorious beating heart of you.

The god of you.

Your breath.

Your mind – yes even with its tortuous twisting fear.

Your skin.

The steadiness of your gaze 

keep it steady-  keep breathing in and out. 

Place one foot and then the other. 

This is the mastery of you.

This is all the power you need. 

Breath. Step. 

We create our own reality. We really do.

We are incredible creators with enormous power. Consciously or unconsciously we are always choosing.

I can look out my window and see a beautiful garden, full of life. I can decide that I’m a fabulous custodian of the earth.

Or I can see where the weeds are choking out the thyme and where the new lemon tree isn’t thriving. I can decide that I’m a terrible gardener who’s too lazy to pick a few weeds.

Both of these views have a truth to them. I choose which way to lean.

One of those views will make me feel great, one will not. And I take this feeling into the rest of my whole day and everything in it. I choose.

This is true of every aspect of my life. 

I can be a human on a path of discovery and growth or a grown-arse woman who should have got her shit together by now. Both have their truths, I choose where to put my energy, which parts to focus on and grow. 

It has to be a conscious decision. If I’m not checking in with myself about what I’m believing then underlying beliefs will take the wheel. 

If I fundamentally (often unconsciously) believe that I’m not worth much, that will play out in my life. When I notice how I view myself or a situation then I take back my power and choose the world I want to live in.

For me, this is the best game to play. This is where I find meaning and joy in my life. 

Rest.

She stood over my bed.

Rest, she said.

Fear and doubt and pain and loss and anger and mindless distraction are circling, wheeling, keening, forcing, whispering, coercing.

Turning, craning their necks to see what’s coming, turning my hands to the next thing to do, following me around, filling my head, speaking my words, straining my eyes, drilling my mind with their lies, their dirty, sneaky, manipulative lies. 

Rest, she said.

They screeched their protests of time, lists, logic, they clawed with sneering judgement.

Five minutes, she said.

Fuck you, they said.

She sighed and stroked my head with such tenderness that I almost fell into the warmth of her eyes, the tenderness of her wisdom, the compassion, the softness, the gentle, easy love of her presence. 

Before I remembered all the things I had to do and that no amount of that airy-fairy bullshit was going to get the bills paid so I stormed out into my day, screaming, crying, fighting, hurting, losing, falling, forcing my will on the world. Hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting hurting.

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Oh love. Oh my gentle love.

So what do I do now?

Let the gentle breeze of life go through me

Just breath

Wait

Feel into the wisdom of my bones

Have the courage to be kind to myself

Sigh. Deeply.

Touch myself with loving hands

Stare at the trees. The intricate pattering of a birds’ feathers

Lie in the sun

Feel my heart beat beneath my hands

Hold my own hand

Hum

Close my eyes and know I am safe in this moment right now

I am safe

I am safe

I am safe

I am safe

Can we, for just a moment, consider the possibility that there’s a different way to look at life?

What if success looked like someone who was able to know their wounds deeply. Someone who didn’t need someone else to tell them they were loved because they knew that already.

Someone who knows that it’s not what we do, it’s how we move in the world, the energy we’re putting out in the world. 

Someone who knows that love – in the true sense of that word – is the only energy to foster and move though the world with.

Someone who sees pain in others as pain in themselves and knows that to heal themselves is the way to heal others.

Someone who knows they are whole, loved, complete, allowed, valuable, viable, wanted and powerful just because they are breathing. 

Someone who can sense the whispers of their heart’s desire, their soul’s longing and can follow that whisper wherever it takes them.

Someone who knows the different subtle tones of their ego and is able to soothe their own internal fears regardless of what the world is showing them.

Someone who knows the world and our lives are far far greater than we can understand.

Someone who can look fear in the eye and name it. Not as rage or hatred or ignorance or destruction or any of the pains. Can name it as grief and wound. And grant it the compassion our griefs and wounds deserve.

Someone who knows that the ways to change a moment or a person is not to change the other but to centre, hold and know themselves.

What if that was success?

Healing is about reconnecting with the deepest core of who we are – beyond our fears, worries, excitement, to do lists, medical problems, and roles we play in the world.

Healing Our Selves – Shamini Jain

Your intuition, your inner voice, your gut feeling. Call it what you will. It’s just energy. We live in a constant stream of transference of energy.

It’s not spiritual necessarily, especially if that word isn’t to your liking. It’s energy. Like someone who walks in the room and brims with confidence. Or has a dark cloud over them. Or a happy vibe. And you get to control your energy.

Energy likes the easiest, straightest path. Those hints from your body are your intelligent system’s way of directing you to the simplest, easiest path.

But first you need to get in touch with it. And a Sound Healing session can help you do that.