01 September 2016

Gratitude and Joy

This post, I already realise, is going to be a brain-dump, and this blog is the only place where I have ever felt really free to exercise such vanity and self indulgence. Unlike on Facebook with it's news feeds and algorithms, here my words are unlikely to be found by anyone without a genuine interest in finding either them or me. I seem to feel safer for that.

Today my husband is not at home. Today for the first time in maybe three years since his back began to cause him unending pain, he has managed to take a trip away long enough to involve an overnight stay. He is working, and interacting with the peers he has for so long only known by phone, and spending a day or two under the glare of fluorescent lights in a world of dispassionate and cleanly impersonal pre-booked and air conditioned hot-desking stations.

Whether he knows it or not, he must also be reassessing his own value within the group, and the pros and cons of silence at home with me, here at the top of a hill in a 'back woods and bunny rabbits' Brigadoon seaside town,

Miss him as I do, I don't share his ability to crawl out of bed and immediately fire up the work laptop. I don't share his attitude that awake = on the clock. Today without his glorious energy stamping it's dynamic and focused mark on the very fabric of our shared reality from the very moment of awareness, I have rediscovered my love of mulling time and blissful, restorative, no-reason silence. Today I have found opportunity to accidentally meditate, or at least be introspective and lost in connection to God-source, even while doing two days worth of washing up by hand and mucking out the household garbage wheelie bin. Simply the gift of choosing to do those things without referencing them to the noise they would make, or his needs or his work, that was a luxury I guzzled down with joy, too much joy to stop and recognise my gratitude and satisfaction until after the deed was done.

Today, I am so blessed, I have had space to stand in the middle of the living room, stare out of the back windows and think of nothing at all. Not calculating, not listing, not imagining, just being. Being with the effervescent summer dawn light, the jolly caws of the early seagulls a few streets away, the tiny, playful breeze in the long grass at the bottom of the garden and the cheery solidity of stout wooden fence poles and boxy British back yards as far as the eye can see, as if bright sunshine was to them a new set of best clothes to be paraded and acknowledged. If brickwork and concrete and sun-bleached woodwork (long missing the creosote) were to have any scent at all, it would to be that of potential and joy and the promise of a glorious day.

True, I also live not too far from the sea. In retrospect, having let thoughts glide through and on and away like paper boats on a shallow stream, I find I am so, so grateful that in all this 'normality' (such normality; deliciousness! Rows upon modest rows of compost heaps, garages and garden sheds, oiled garden tools and small petrol mowers and old paint tins. The thrill of deep, dark, loamy soil in moist and life giving grow-bags - even the thought smells of humidity and woody tomato plants, so green), where was I? - in this 'normality', intertwined, dancing behind it all, there is a gentle waft of salt on the air, and seaweed.

Such safety, such joy; childhood promises of sandcastles and ice cream, new sandals and crisp cotton holiday wear; home sewn, hot washed and starched and ironed like never before (must look and feel sunny, even out of a suitcase, after all). It's all love. The air is full of love, received and given.

After all these years it took one chance to potter about inside my own head, inside my own home, and I am in bliss. I need to learn to do this even with others to care for. I need to learn to step down out of fulfilling whatever childhood belief I made about 'doing things properly', about 'caring for a husband the right way' about seeing the the 'us' before seeing to the 'me'. The echo that comes up from the mists of memory suggests family trips, and putting on coats, and nobody being able to leave for the car until everyone is ready. Somewhere I made a vow never to do anything, if I loved anyone at all, until everyone was ready.

I wonder how many loving little souls on this planet also sucked that one up into their self built personality, without noticing. I mean, this is how we do it, right? This is how it's done, yeah? Proper manners. And if others aren't ready to see that yet, to follow our lead and mimic the extent of our love, then, true to the truism, we wait. And the more we want that trip, that adventure, that experience out there, and the more it means to our darling, bursting little hearts, the more we hold back in hope, determined not to leave without the others, determined not to express such terrible cruelty as would be inherent in leaving them ever so slightly behind.

A double bind, then. The more it's wanted, the more it can not and must not be had, for fear of mortally wounding those we love who show no signs of being ready, even if that's true only because they fail to share the interest, or the sense of urgency, in the first place.

People like us get good at crying silently, don't we? Good at taking solo walks? We have world standard throat muscles, for sure, holding back so expertly; Olympic standard self-control. For what?

For love, yes, but love with the logic of a child who had to wait for the sake of others. Others who probably, even joyfully, couldn't give two hoots.


I love my brain dumps, generally they mean big change is coming, or already happening. Generally they seem to correlate well with the idea of the cocoon getting itchy, with the need of the butterfly or moth (who never knew that's what he was) to start fidgeting. I wonder what I am.

Funny, I've just realised that my opening paragraph, the first words out of my mind and onto this virtual page, describe, exactly, this so-far-ingrained conditioning that says I should not impinge but should wait; to be seen, to be recognised, to be heard, to be given permission. Hah. Maybe this will go to Facebook after all.


Post script

The original intention of this post (so thought I; what do I know?) was to honour, bless, thank and express gratitude to and for all the glorious healing souls that are currently working with me 1;1 or face to face. Those who have come into my life right now as clients, as mentors, as colleagues, friends and team-mates. This is because the other thing that startled me with it's beauty this morning was the heap of gifts and blessings in my life that I'd been too blinkered to step back and really see. I could see them, sure, but I never added them up. I mean, come on, if you knew even one of these people, you'd know what a gift I've been given.

The few I know I can name without rushing back to ask first (thank you God-universe! Such people you send me!) are, alphabetically:

Emma Armstrong - already my honorary cousin/sister, although she might be startled by that prospect - I'd trust her to hold me accountable, to cover my back or to dig me in the ribs if it was called for. She wouldn't; I'd just trust her to. If Atlas was female...

Tahira Aziz - spiritual teacher, chemistry teacher; a practical, sensible, logical weaver of energies. Work that one out. I have learned so much.

Sarah Howard - When you hear Sarah makes her own scented oils as well as doing reflexology and energy therapies, it just makes so much sense. If you've ever met her you'll be able to imagine the amazing, nurturing energy that must transmit to those glorious little bottles. She ought to have flowers grow wherever she walks barefoot, too, that would honestly fit; you know? Just a lovely, skilled, practical, caring person.

Kumudha Jayakumar - Gita, Such a friend, such a skillset, such a powerhouse, such a wonderful outlook. EFT and Meta-Health is just scraping the surface.

David Rees - I'm going to learn SoulPlan reading from this open hearted guy, just up the coast in Worthing! Can't wait.

Jenni Tribe - Visionary manifester. A walking example of finesse, genius little skills and polish and reframes, and a natural teacher. I tend to realise how much cool stuff I learned, after the fact, it just integrates so well.

Although it's been a month or two, the skills mix represented by the following is a world class education several times over,. Each and every one a friend, and an amazingly supportive, encouraging and lovely person that it would have been lovely to have more time to fully appreciate (then again, it's all perfect...) :-

Mark Bristow (he put me on the radio!),  
Jan Parsons
Anya Berry
Kate Marillat
Bryanie Nercessian
Omar Raafat , 
Jayne Forknall , 
Karen Rayner
Benita Scott
Louise Burford

All this is just the tip of the iceberg. LOOK at the LUXURY of my personal and spiritual development!  And all that LOVE .

If this was deliberate, planned and paid for, it would have an end goal in mind, and would be the elite kind of hot-housing normally allotted to rare blooms and famous world shakers.  The Universe planned this, and as I didn't, I'm trusting the same God/Universe/Source to have the end goal in mind. I wonder what it is.

How does it get any better than this, and what else is possible?

Gratitude! Gratitude and Joy.

21 June 2013

Website Wonders

I am so blessed.

Good people think well of me! There's nothing more delightful than to find the appreciation you have for someone is reciprocated. I think that pure unburdened gratitude is one of the loveliest sensations there is, and I'm rolling in it.

I'm hanging around online with Fiona Truman, presenter of The Back Hope Summit and now creator of Bubble Tapping.

We're doing session swaps - can you believe it? I'm hanging out with 'the' Fiona Truman.
I am.
With Fiona.

I'm ALSO swapping sessions with Tahira Aziz, who I met whilst we were both helping Silvia Hartmann and Alex Kent at Earl's Court.

Tahira is amazing. She too has her own therapy which I am very pleased to say I am getting lots of - in exchange for EFT protocols. Its a whole sort of intuitive-pranic-core belief thingy and I don't want to get in to 'why' it works, it just does.

Karl Dawson is letting me help at his next Brighton training, again, picking up the overwhelms as they rush out of the door. I'll be back at The Thistle this August!  I guess that means that I am kind of sort of okay, both as a human being and as a Matrix practitioner. I am more than a little delighted.

The point of this post begins with Tahira doing quite literally 30 seconds work on my financial blocks yesterday. We started out meaning to do an hour's session on that but after the first core belief was stated, it all went off at a tangent into an hour on 'being myself', instead.

Still, before our session I'd already been noticing that if you mention 'past lives', a great many people's eyes light up. It is, I find, an officially fascinating subject, and for most of these people the interest is personal because they have an inkling, a fancy or a secret certainty that they have at least one past life under their belts.

Its the certain ones I'm after, the people who have had 'flashbacks' which explain how a trauma or attitude or type of luck pervades their current life without any imaginable reason in this incarnation.

Matrix Reimprinting is a dab hand at resolving memories or ECHOs (Energy Consciousness Holograms) no matter what their origin, and people with a past life memory are

  • already aware of their memory, having played it over and over in their head
  • fed up with the effect it has in this life, and ready to do something about it
Dream clients, actually - lovely people who want my service and have already done half the prep work. How can it get any better than this?

So, after the session with Tahira, I asked friends for some free website recommendations, got onto weebly late yesterday afternoon, and found myself glued to the computer until 3.30am at which point I had a complete, fully built, six page website with a FAQ page built from scratch and a services page offering six different packages, with prices and Paypal buttons.

Looking at it this morning I realise that 48 hours ago I'd been trying to talk myself into increasing my prices and in an ongoing battle with myself to feel comfortable promoting a six session package, yet now I have a website with increased prices which I currently feel are much more realistic and six, twelve and fifty-two session packages on offer. What's more when I was building that page all I felt was fun and enthusiasm. I didn't even stop to marvel at myself.

Like I said, I don't know what Tahira Aziz does, but she is gooooooood.

(Just got to work that same magic on my 'real' website now - the one that caused me two years of learning curves and headaches and that I'm still far from happy with.  Somehow it strips me of oomph and I find I can't even face copying my FAQ page over from the new site. Or maybe that's because of a little thing called 'only four hours sleep last night'. Hmm.)

14 June 2013


I had one of my flying dreams last night. I've not experienced one of those for years and yet, as with all recurring dreams, even ones silent since childhood, it felt totally obvious, in the happening.

Although I had this kind of dream time and time again when fairies and magic were real to me, I rarely managed to pirouette, or swoop around like a bird above people's heads, demanding attention. It wasn't for lack of wishing.  Instead I found myself heading forward alongside everybody else, yet rarely touching ground. I always seemed to have my head at the same height as other people's, just gliding along beside them, almost like swimming, ever so slightly off the floor. It's no less exhilarating, for that.

At two or three years old, walking down Southall High Street with my mum, I'd hold my coat open by the bottom corners, hoping the wind would let me take off. This thing has been with me a loooooong time.

The nightmare versions of these dreams - there were plenty of those as I began to grow - were filled with panic and with wobbly legs that wouldn't quite support me. Reliant on flying to cross the road yet skimming so ridiculously close to the ground, I'd bump against the camber or catch a toe on the kerb and go helplessly rolling in front of moving traffic, unable to keep up with the walkers who might help, nor get up to fly nor to walk, nor drag myself out of the way, with my power like a fading torch, so weak, and full of shame and fear.

In the dream I had this morning, I told myself so many things - who in my life is asleep and blindly content, who won't mind or notice when my adventure moves on (which was a huge and welcome surprise). I also told myself who's going to take me to the next step of my journey and introduce me to others. Little things to keep locked up for just me, to wait, and see.

The big deal happened when I woke up. See, in this dream, the power was under the building, and magnificent and hidden, and conscious, and I floated like a magnet facing the same polarity as we conversed.

It seems so easy, taking this in isolation, to say
"Ah! The power to fly isn't 'in' us, it's not a magical separation from others to make them sit up and take notice, it's just what happens when you stop being separate, and connect to source. The fact that they seem different, is down to their life journeys. Not that they're different at all, just not there yet"

It is easy to say it, but my inner child, or if you like, 20 or 30 of my inner dream echoes, are currently absorbing what was being shown to them all along - that dream-flying is a hug from the universe, a step in to welcoming arms, not a step away to self determination, and that embarrassment, sense of failure, sense of  shame and not fitting in, these are not the side effects of failing to fly - these are the causes. A whole lot of my subconscious mind is in a great big 'Wow',.... and dancing.

I owe Fiona Truman for taking the hammer to my own Berlin Wall - this is all part of the crumbling. Squeee!!

29 May 2013

Positive Tapping

Things have moved on a lot since my last entry.

The Sunday job would have put me in the centre of town, in the larger supermarket, up and down stairs in a little uniform, every weekend, a living and breathing antithesis of a professional business owner. My husband would have loved it if I had got the job and that's my fault - even though it was drummed into him at an early age that job security with a salary and employment contract, was synonymous with responsibility and doing right, I accept full responsibility for side-lining my IQ and trying to conform to the 'little-woman-little-job' mould.

Still, notwithstanding the bash to the ego caused by, get this, the indignity of not being offered a role I thought was beneath me in the first place; life has been wonderful.

I'm against too much name-dropping on Facebook because in such a busy environment it often comes across as grandstanding; all self promotion and social climbing. There's a lot of it about. Here in this backwater blog, however, I have no such compunction. A backlink is a backlink. So..

When I stormed out of that potwash job I was already helping Mike Broadwell and Fiona Truman with the transcripts for their Back Hope Telesummit. It was wonderful fun. There were a mixture of accents in all those audios and some of the original transcriptions relied rather heavily on 'guess work' - on the dreaded so-called principle of 'near enough'. Gah. We were re-proofing and re-writing even once the event had begun and I love that sense of teamwork, of all hands to the deck.  I had to drop out of the team right at the end to go become an AAMET EFT trainer.

I am now an EFT trainer. Yay!

Just putting this out in the universe - I now need to train 100 people as AAMET EFT practitioners in order to become a Matrix Reimprinting trainer also. Matrix Reimprinting is my main love, its a submodality of EFT but one I find it very hard to refrain from using, so the sooner the better. This means I would be happy to train three or four classes full of A level or university students in exchange for travel costs and printing facilities. Psychology students, drama students, anyone who'd use it for themselves or for others. Any takers?

I am currently honoured to be one of the many proof readers Sam Thorpe has enlisted for her new book. Love Sam, she's an absolute genius and her passion for her subject just lights up a room when she starts talking.

Karl Dawson, bless his socks, says that if something turns up in your life once, it's probably the other person's issue, but if it turns up twice or three times, its almost certainly yours.

In that case I must have a thing going on at the moment about attracting the company of genius women, because after Fiona and Sam (in fact because of Sam) I find myself in the company of Silvia Hartmann, creator of EmoTrance, originator of The AMT (the 'other' huge EFT governing body in the UK), author many times over and..... loads more stuff.

It will forever be my favourite opening line to say that I first met her 'down the pub'.  It freaks people out.

As a result of meeting Silvia, I spent two days of this Bank Holiday weekend at Earl's Court, manning the AMT stall at the Mind Body Spirit festival. I felt like a bit of a fraud at first, surrounded by amazing tappers who were there as volunteers and were rocking the show, while I stood there in an AMT staff member t-shirt, feeling awed by their natural confidence and slightly annoyed at myself for not being on their level. I tried having a grumble once or twice to see if it got any of them to work their magic on me, but finishing a sentence was difficult as the visitors just kept coming. Tahira gave me ten seconds on the first day, the darling, but after that it was full-on. Those women worked their socks off.

The upshot of all of this is ..... I still don't know what I'll be doing to earn a crust this week or next, but I do know I haven't been tapping enough and need to apply some serious attention to that. I think I'll stick, for a while to The AMT Energy Tapping for positives.

It 'feels' so easy to tap in the positives, to start at my own subjective understanding of normality and work up. It makes perfect sense too - as one lovely visitor said on Monday morning - "Who says 'good enough' is good enough?"  Tapping for 'more' of any good feeling is exactly the same as tapping away a feeling of lack. The feelings, all feelings and therefore all energy blocks, are in the torque, the tension, the twist. Its all at the point where desired and perceived reality fail to match up.

Still, two days of borrowed benefits from helping a constant stream of others (not to mention standing energetically wide open and ungrounded in the middle of all the work going on around me) may have left me feeling happily exhausted a couple of days ago, but now the shift I made in my own awareness is coming home to roost. I find myself unable to hide from certain emotions, particularly heartache and disappointment. I'm a mum, for heaven's sake, I became a master at tucking my own feelings to one side a long long time ago. You can't comfort two panicked bawling children and reassure them that the daddy who just left them 'loves them really' unless you become an instant master at swallowing down all your desire to scream obscenities at him and join in.

Now that some of my better hidden emotions are resurfacing, I am having to be honest with people about responses that surprise even me. One of my beautiful daughters, for example, has decided she wants to ramp up her obsession with tattoos into acquiring what they call a 'full sleeve' and I find my heart is suddenly wide open to acknowledge my surprising levels of stashed-away grief over these permanent scrawlings which increasingly cover my beautiful baby girl.

Good gracious. No wonder I wear glasses. All the stuff I've decided not to see.

Tap tap tap....   

07 May 2013

1 Cathartic Huff and 6 Wonderful Things

Last week I walked out of the part time job I'd managed to convince myself I was stuck in for the past five years. Its been stressful and demeaning and the people I worked with have been, for the most part, depressed and demoralising. Some (like me, at the time) were there because they saw no hope for anything better. Not a good attitude to bask in. Others were actually there as part of a career progression, working to their capacity yet constantly vying to be seen as 'the best' at what they do, through various levels of toadying and backstabbing. They just made it easier to fall in with the relatively benign 'sighing defeatists'.  It became unbearable when I realised just how much the lack of support was backed up by a managerial lack of respect, interest, willingness to listen, or general be bothered.

Pot wash, covered in grease and blood, again, because someone didn't empty a tray before they stacked it:

"Sir, that six-foot-something 20-something-stone chef with the hands like bunches of bananas, the one who's spent since Christmas trying to convince me that you are incompetent and moody and work me too hard (as opposed to he, who, if he had your job would make life a bed of roses) - that one - he just had a psychotic break, when there was nobody but us in the kitchen, verbally laid into me, intimidated me, bullied me, told me I don't do my job properly and now I'm hyperventilating and near to tears and scared and offended and I don't know what's going on and I need your help and your support"


"Stop overreacting you're making me angry. You two have always got it in for each other*. Can't you just be grown ups".

*News to me.


----Arms folded tight, lots of eye rolling and half smiles and looking innocent when boss looks, and totally smug when he doesn't.

I do not need this. They can have the place to themselves; they deserve each other.

Turns out psycho, who keeps telling me to go home early when boss isn't there, and not to bother with X or Y so that even if I want to do the work I become trapped, unable to do my job at the risk of offending him; turns out he's been doing all this and at the same time moaning to the boss that I don't do enough work. Playing both ends off against the middle. What an unfortunate understanding of what it is to 'win', in this life.

There should be a comedy show about it.

Maybe one day.

So here I am, out of a job.

On the up side...

Wonderful Thing 1
I was phoned on Friday to attend a job interview. Its a weekend thing that I might have done side by side with the other, for a while, to get ahead of the game for once. Never mind. Dear heaven, if I get it, at least that will cover my share of the outgoings for now, and give me the whole week to build up by EFT business, which up until now has been so select and elite that you might have mistaken it for a hobby.

Wonderful Thing 2
I start my training to become an AAMET qualified Trainer, this coming weekend! I don't know if there's much in the way of a test to do after the three day training, but if not, I could be a trainer by this time next week. By the middle of June I'll have added picture tapping and PTSD-specific training to my toolbox, too.

Wonderful Thing 3
Today I authorised payment for a quarter page advert in a Police magazine going out to schools and social workers and people involved in child protection. What an amazing niche to get in to!

Wonderful Thing 4
I have a couple more transcriptions to do for Fiona Truman's Back Hope telesummit.

Wonderful Thing 5
Gary has been totally amazing, loving and supportive.  Its such a blessing to not feel like there's anyone angry or panicky watching for me to succeed, or fail. I am so grateful.

(Most) Wonderful Thing 6
Finally - I haven't managed to do this yet today because it deserves proper time and will be cathartic to the point of being spiritual - I realise I may now gather together all the awful, tatty, stained clothes that I had to wear to work for lack of a uniform; all the grotty items I left the house in, every day, that must have described me to the world for the most part of the last 60 months - gather them up (I imagine I'll fold and count them, too) - and bin the lot.

I mean; wow.

23 April 2013

Hove Holistic and Mystic!

Sunday was amazing. I want to do another fete. Now. I want to do one every 6 to 8 weeks.

EFT is different from any other service provided at one of these holistic fairs, because we don't give.  You do not come away from the table with a reading or a lot of useful paperwork or anything to take home that explains the contrast between where your life is, and where you might wish it to be. Direction is a wonderful thing, but it's not what we deal in.

EFT is different from any other service provided at one of these holistic fairs, because we take. We remove the drama that's kicking at the back of your eyeballs and stopping you from enjoying life, right in this moment. We allow you to change, but right there, on the spot. No map from A to B, just a teleport.  We even take your idea of your limitations.  Obviously we give so very much more, but not anything you could point to on a table in a meeting hall.

Sometimes people even have quite a bad night's sleep after a session. We even take your slumber. The body simply holds all these tiny emotional stresses and strains in slumped shoulders, a stiff neck, a dry cough, sore ankles - you name it, and gets used to them being there. Suddenly, after EFT, it is safe to 'stand down', to begin to release, and that can cause secondary aches and upsets as the physical systems realign. "Drink lots of water, and rest", we tell them. What else can we say?

Next time I think I will scrap the price tag and go for donations; let people pay what they can, or what they know it to be worth after the session.  I ended up doing so much for free because I could quite literally see the bitter regrets and smashed self worth reaching out of these people to try and touch the table, even as their bodies took on the memory and froze. A group could approach and I would know which one was silently hoping. I was on a roll. Came away broke, but meh. First things first.

I am ill, again. Two weeks down with gastroenteritis and now I have a severe head cold with a really sore throat. I am so tired. I'm sure that there are dietary and lifestyle considerations in the mix, but quite honestly, I believe it hit this hard and fast because of the amazing time I had at the fair, the numbers of lives we changed, the number of spontaneous hugs. The high was incredible, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt now that I can read people, that I am sh*t hot at this, that all I want to do is plough in and help. I can even do this standing up in the middle of  the crowd.

I don't know why its so hard to recognise myself as unlimited and perfect and powerful. Its not about being better than anyone, its about getting up and dancing with the feet God gave me, so that others can start to join me. I am in full blown emotional and physical resolution, worse than any a client could experience from an hour or less of work. I feel like death warmed over. My body is repairing after the removal of self-limiting beliefs brought about by seven hours of tapping at the fair, yet all I can say is "Bring it on".

My nickname when I first trained in EFT was 'hit and run fairy godmother'. It even got a round of applause at the time (as EFT people live by the concept of getting in quick, working the change, and getting back out of the way), but I soon dropped it when I 'mistakenly'* joined a trades-heavy chapter of the BNI for a year (wonderful people who are now friends for life) and was told, publicly, that I sounded like I was depicting my services as a car crash.

I think when I let that go, I also forgot that 'zapping' people, such as doing the fifteen minute tasters we ran at the fair, is my absolute favourite thing in the world. On Sunday, I remembered.

*(There are no mistakes. Hence inverted commas.)

Working for Karl Dawson last year was also such a thrill, because I was needed to follow people out of the room when their issues were pricking their eyes with tears and demanding to be faced.  I love it! At the time I reasoned that my total joy was at 'coming home' to the situation where I first began my own life changing path.

Now I see it was simply reaffirming that my favourite part of EFT and Matrix Reimprinting (especially Matrix) is the bit where people are bursting to be shot of the issue that's holding them back, where their attitude is "Yes, please, do your worst" and they are totally, totally ready for the magical mystery tour through their mind, heart and soul into those surprise observations that start pennies dropping and dominoes falling and old wounds healing faster than you (or they) can say "O,...M,...G......"

I'm not so sure I'm built for running a practice, as much as being out there with a queue and a crowd, introducing people to their forgotten potential, and pointing them at other practitioners.

Again, again, again!

16 April 2013

Feeling like a Chinese Farmer

...well, one in particular; the one in the parable.

Chinese farmer loses his horse. "What a disaster!" cry the neighbours.
"Maybe yes, maybe no" replies our venerable and, in some stories, ancient tiller of the soil. And that pretty much sets the tone.

The whole story could have been renamed Yes But, as one disaster after another turns out to be a blessing in disguise, although to be fair, each resultant so-called good fortune also turns out to be the trigger for the next apparent catastrophe.

10 April 2013

Off Sick

Today I am off sick, in full and furious resolution.

It does seem that my number of sick days at my salaried work have exploded since I trained in EFT and I am so glad for a surface understanding of MetaHealth; the dry, toughening stress phase of illness where we toughen up under perceived assault, and the soft, swollen, hot and sore phase which is resolution and healing but which we traditionally assume to be the illness.

This too shall pass, including this delightful sensation of having been kicked in the kidneys.

Anyway, retrospectively its easy to see that I was becoming foggy minded yesterday, and unnecessarily despondent the day before.  Today then, in between drifting off into no-man's land, I am listening to youtube videos and mp3s:

1. The Solfeggio scale

2. Prayer (Singing) bowls

3. Meditation cymbals (Tingsha)

4. Eckhart Tolle

5. Silvia Hartmann

6.  ...and cute children and cats because, meh, if I'm running on half a brain, I have every right to be as distractible as Dug.

This is Dug (from Up)

And this is a cute kid.

That is all.