It's a good day to be thankful

Even though we don’t do Thanksgiving here in Australia, I like to use the occasion to do a kind of gratitude stocktake.

While most of us have a vague understanding that gratitude can raise our mood and our life satisfaction levels, in practice we’re not so good at actually maximising this superpower. Most of us, it’s fair to say, have a tendency to ‘focus on the hole and not the doughnut’, if you know what I mean.

It’s not just our emotional health that benefits when we focus on gratitude, our physical health gets a boost too. Research by Professor Paul Mills from the University of California San Diego School of Medicine found that heart disease patients who kept a gratitude journal had reduced their risk of ongoing heart issues after two months. And similar studies have shown a reduction in stress hormones in those who focus on gratitude.

Thanksgiving seems like the opportune time to, you know, give thanks. Last night I sat down with a pink pen and a pretty notepad (related: I am grateful for cute stationery) and listed all the awesomnity in my life. It was fun and it helped me to see clearly how much I have to celebrate. Afterwards, I felt like life had given me a giant hug. My list included everything from my sister’s cute jokes to my long legs to having a warm, safe place to live to being the most contended I’ve ever been in my adult life.

When you write something down, you amplify that message. It’s the equivalent of speaking to the Universe through a loudspeaker. Writing down what you’re grateful for is saying very clearly: “I am in love with my life, and I’m ready for more blessings.”

I know that right now you do not have everything you want. (Me neither.) But what you do have is immensely valuable, and finding a way to take stock of that really helps you appreciate that value at a deep level.

As Elizabeth Gilbert says: “You were given life. It is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within it, no matter how slight.”

You are very, very lucky, and very, very loved. Happy Thanksgiving xx

I used to hate birthdays. Now everything is different

I celebrated my birthday this week. I mean that literally – I really celebrated it. This is significant for me because in past years I’ve greeted my birthday like a smelly, irritating relative that comes to stay every year, whose presence I endure with practised stoicism. The only celebration would happen the day after, when I’d wake up awash with relief that it was all over for another year.

My reasons for resenting my birthday were partly due to the fact that it drew attention to me – and as an introvert, this is excruciating. Seriously, I will vote for the next politician who promises to ban the singing of Happy Birthday in workplaces. *shudder*

But at the heart of my day-of-birth anxiety was the fact that they were a reminder that another year had passed and I was not living the life I wanted to live. 

There was a sense that I was running out of time to be happy, or to achieve a life that looked anywhere near as glossy as those of my peers. Every year my misery increased exponentially as I was faced with the realisation that my life had not changed significantly from how it looked at the last birthday.

This year, however, felt different.

I’ve made some major internal changes during the year that have affected the way I see myself and my future. I have a clearer sense of my life purpose and, most significantly, the value that I hold. I can look back on my regrets without feeling burdened by them. Right now I’m in the process of changing careers, so I don’t feel stuck or inadequate professionally any more. I no longer fret about being single, nor interpret this as evidence that I am flawed. It feels like I have enough time, and enough support from the Universe, to grow to a point that I can emotionally handle, and flourish in, a relationship.

I have wonderful friendships in which I have a sense of belonging and feel valued. Actually, this is probably the most significant change of all when it comes to birthdays. I can still remember the despair and humiliation of my 32nd birthday when only two people showed up for drinks. As I write this post, I’m preparing to meet 18 friends for my birthday celebrations. This blows my mind – 18 people like me enough to come and celebrate with me!

What all this amounts to is me having dropped my ideas of how my life should look – which is what was causing my birthday angst in the past. Instead I’ve arrived at something very close to acceptance of what is. I can recognise and celebrate the many blessings in my life and I don’t feel myself disappearing into the blistering chasm between the hand I imagined I would play, and the hand I’ve been dealt. In addition, I know how much power I have to bring about change, so I’ve dropped my self-pity I used to hold. 

Most crucially, I’ve stopped comparing myself to other people on the regular. On this point my resolve gets tested often (particularly on social media) but I’m better able to detach from comparisons, and jealousy. This is not easy when you’ve grown up in New Zealand, a country where your relationship status is prized above any personal attributes or achievements. But it’s in my choices, not my circumstances, that I measure my worth now.

This is the first year that I truly understand exactly how much I have to celebrate, and I have good reason to believe that will expand and deepen as I age. In a culture obsessed with time and deadlines, my anchoring principles are these: I am exactly where I am supposed to be, and the best is yet to come. 

I still hate that fucking office birthday singalong though.

I'll sit with you when you're hurting. And I won't try to fix you

A couple of months ago there was a story bouncing around the internet about a woman who’d created a series of greeting cards to send to someone going through cancer. What was unique about Emily McDowell's cards was their raw honesty. Instead of the trite, and frankly unhelpful, standard card messages, they said what someone suffering a life-altering illness really needed to hear. Stuff like: “Please let me be the first person to punch the next person who tells you everything happens for a reason” and “I wish I could take away your pain. Or at least, take away the people who compare it to the time their hampster died.” But my personal favourite was this one: “I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I didn't know what to say.” I like this because it beautifully captures the helplessness you feel when someone close to you is suffering, and you know there is nothing you can say or do to ease their pain.

I was reminded of this recently when I was spending time with a friend who is healing from a broken heart. Over the course of our conversation she ran the gamut of emotions from rage to disappointment to shame to grief. I wanted so badly to offer some advice or some truism that would help her find peace, even if temporarily, but I had nothing. But that’s not what she needed from me, anyway. It’s not up to me to fix the situation, my job is to be there and listen. Empathy is not a verb, it’s a heart space.

Liz Gilbert wrote a beautiful and moving post a few months ago about the despair she felt after another mass

One of Emily McDowell's beautiful cards.

shooting in the US, and how she attempted to turn that sadness into hope on a micro scale: “When the world starts to feel overwhelming in its sorrows, I always ask myself to look around me – to narrow down my focus – and to notice somebody who is nearby me, who is suffering. I can’t help the millions, but maybe I can help one. Life is hard; there is always someone going through great pain. I tell myself: Go sit with that person today for a while. Don’t try to solve their life, or answer for God [as to why it has happened], or offer dismissive ‘reasons’, or try fix the whole world. Just say, ‘I don’t know. But I will sit with you through this.’ Turn your overflow of sorrow into love.”

When you don’t know what to say or do, it’s tempting to either rush in with solutions or platitudes, or to just back away completely. Don’t do that. Lean in. Sit beside them and listen. That’s how you show love. That’s how you say ‘I hate that you’re suffering and I can’t change that but I will bear witness to your pain and hold your hand when you need me.’ What people need when their world is broken is the warmth of human connection. That is the one thing you CAN do.

This week is going to be a major week. Here's why

In two days’ time it will be November 11, and I’m really excited about this. At the risk of sounding like a spiritual geek (I guess it’s much too late for that...), 11.11 in any year is a significant date to me because it’s a line-up of my favourite number – one.
One is strong in my personal numerology – and plus, November, the 11^th month, is my birth month. In spiritual terms, this number signifies creativity and confidence, and it appears twice for me in my soul purpose numbers (meaning this energy is extra intense) – so these are the areas that I’m challenged to harness and develop in this lifetime.

I’ll talk more about soul purpose numbers further down the page – and explain how you can find out your own, if that’s something you’re curious about – but first I want to talk about number one in angel numerology, because repetition of numbers is something that a lot of people notice.
Recently on a Facebook group I’m part of, someone posted a comment that she kept seeing ‘1111’ everywhere – she’d glance at her phone and it’d be 11.11am. It’d appear on number plates. On lottery tickets. What was the significance, she wanted to know?

There are two layers of meaning. At its most basic level this is the angels saying hello, and popping in to let you know they’re around and they’ve got your back. We all need constant reminders of that (even me… especially me...) But for those who are looking to grow and expand (which I assume describes you, given you’re reading this blog), this is also a wake-up call. The angels are reminding you at that moment to watch your thoughts, because your thoughts are creating your future – and if you’re bogged down with negative thoughts, those will block what you want. I always take the appearance of a ‘111’ sequence as a prompt for me to mentally delete the negative concepts that have been playing on my mind, then affirm to the angels what I *do* want (current goal: more clients), and thank them for helping me attract that into my life. So essentially it’s a powerful manifestation number. Which is very convenient, because…

November 11 also happens to mark the emergence of a new moon, which is a powerful time for manifestation. Woo! Adding to that, the new moon happens to be in Scorpio (that’s my sign, BTW!), which is the zodiac’s most deeply intuitive sign. 

A screenshot I took last year.

What does all this mean? In short: this week is an intense time for creating what you want – but remember that it’s your responsibility to focus your thoughts to attract what you desire. It’s about believing you CAN have what you dream of, and about tuning into your intuition for guidance. You may have powerful dreams this week, and you’ll almost certainly be having strong nudges from your intuition (that’s the Scorpio moon’s influence). If there’s something you want, you really really want, Wednesday night would be a perfect time to sit down with a pen and paper and write down exactly what you’re aiming to create in your life. You could also combine that with a meditation to clear your mind of any negative residue. Powerful stuff!

Going back to soul purpose numbers, following well-regarded numerologist Dan Millman’s analysis, I’m a 38/11. The three stands for expression – pretty relevant, as a writer – and sensitivity – pretty important, as a healer – and the eight is for abundance and power. Basically what this tells me is that my job in this lifetime is use my creativity to uplift and empower others. And that I’ll be supported by the Universe in doing so. To be honest I’m not overly thrilled about this. My ideal weekend is spent watching reruns of The Fresh Prince in my pyjamas – which, I’m pretty sure, does not benefit the community at large. Still, I know I’m happiest when I’m being creative, and I also know I’m being pushed to expand more than I have ever before, and reach out to people. So I do accept this challenge, although I’m less-than-enthusiastic about it sometimes. While I might not like all the elements of the 38/11 analysis, the information has been far more useful, and felt more accurate, to me than horoscopes (even though I have found astrology relevant, to a degree).

If you’re interested in working out your own soul purpose numerology, here’s a link to the calculator. It’ll only give you a brief summary – you need to read Dan’s book The Life You Were Born To Live to get the full rundown. I hope you find it as helpful as I did. 

I had a dream. This is what it taught me

Recently I had a dream so potent that it has stayed with me for more than a week.

I was walking with some people I used to know, who are very sophisticated and elegant. ­­We were heading towards one person’s home, then they fell into a conversation I didn’t understand, and started to gain pace. Suddenly it was like my legs had a rubber band around them, just above the knees. My legs would only take small steps forward, and I couldn’t separate them enough to lengthen my stride and catch up with the others. I was shouting at them to wait for me but they were too engrossed in their conversation to notice me. 

Soon they progressed so far ahead I lost sight of them, and I didn’t know where I was going. I became hopelessly lost, and got stuck, briefly, trying to climb over a seawall. Eventually they realised that I didn’t know where I was going and came looking for me. I was quite distressed abut the fact that my legs had failed me and that I hadn’t been able to stay with them. “I just couldn’t keep up with you,” I said to them sadly.

I just couldn’t keep up with you.

This is the line that has been bouncing around my head ever since that dream. I wrote it down in my dream diary when I woke up, but I didn’t really need to – the meaning is so obvious. When I tried to follow other people’s path, I lost my way. 

Wanting to keep up with other people – specifically, people I perceive to be cooler, hotter, more successful – is an old pattern of mine. It’s that whole ‘fitting in’ strategy we adopt in our teenage years and often results in us overspending on material goods in adulthood (keeping up with the Joneses, in other words). It can also result in us painting the picture of a perfect life on social media – and Brisbane model Essena O’Neill, 18, certainly did a brave thing this week by admitting her Instagram shots were faked in order to cast herself as someone to envy and admire.

For me, the urge to keep up with other people is problematic for several reasons. The first is that it’s based on comparisons. It involves me assessing other people, concluding that they are superior to me for whatever reason, and putting them on a pedestal. This is unwise, given I have no idea what is actually going on in people’s lives beyond the surface. Are they good people? Who knows! Are they happy? They probably have the same problems as everyone else. Are they better than me? Well, no, actually – since life is not, whatever Nike would like us to believe, a competition. I love this line in the 90s hit Sunscreen Song: "The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself." 

There’s another problem here. Worrying about what other people have, look like and appear to be doing takes my focus away from where it needs to be: on my own growth and development.

This dream has been a wake-up call (literally!) that I need to address the way I compare myself to others, and also the way that I measure my own value. This is not a new lesson; I’ve referenced my struggles with comparison and self-worth in many previous posts. But just like those angel cards that keep recurring in the daily readings I do for you guys, these messages will keep coming up until I can truly take them on board and move on. The Universe will not stop throwing these messages at me until I learn the lesson.

I can’t keep up with other people, and I don’t need to. I am enough.