My reflections on a year of angel card readings: the six things we all need to know

OK, so it hasn’t been a full year of angel card readings. I dipped my toe into this slowly, and I only launched professionally in July. But I did start the Oracle Card Of The Day, which I do on social media every day (obvs), in 2014, so that’s good enough for me to call it a year.

Talking to people’s angels and delivering guidance that helps them heal and transform is an enormous privilege. What I’ve learned through being in such a special position is – and I’ve said this before, many times – that we are different, but we are all the same.

Here are the common messages that have come through in my conversations with the angelic realm this year, that apply to us all:

1 The answer to every problem you have is within you. The challenge is to listen to your intuition, and trust it. This is why the number one piece of feedback I get after a reading is: “This has confirmed what I was already thinking.” The more you can do to tune into your intuition, the better your life will flow.

2 Everybody is afraid of something. Most of us, a lot of things. Whatever it is (fear of rejection, failure or loneliness), you are not the only person who feels this way. But you are the only person who can move through that fear block. Drinking to ignore the problem is not helping you. Neither is remaining in that relationship that you’ve outgrown. If you choose not to move through fear, you will remain stuck.

3 Nobody is getting enough sleep. Nobody.

4 We’ve all got control issues. We all want to know when our soulmate will show up, when our children will be born, when we’ll get our dream job… the angels seldom answer these questions about timing directly, and here’s why: the Universe is much better at running your life than you are. Yes you should absolutely chase your dreams, but ultimately the Universe is in charge of the how and when. Learning to let go and trust in that process is a BIG hurdle for almost all of us.

5 You need to spend more time outdoors. This message comes up again and again, and that’s because we spend too much time in front of screens instead of streams. Simply being around nature – especially water – stimulates movement in your energy field which helps you let go of negative emotions. It also takes you out of your head space (resulting in overanalysing and worrying) and into your heart space (which is where you remember that everything is going to be OK). Yes please do overlook the fact that I am writing this post indoors on a computer screen, and you are no doubt reading it in similar circumstances.

6. You are, in the words of that great 20th century philosopher Winnie the Pooh (lol), braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. This comes through for people in readings again and again, because we are all undervaluing our own awesomnity. Me included. My quest to raise my self-esteem has been the biggest theme on my blog. I know this because I know the Universe does not make broken people (even though you might feel like you are sometimes). You are doing the best you can, and that is enough. Of course you can do better – and you will. And that’s part of what you are here, in this ‘earth school’ (as past-life regression expert Dr Brian Weiss cutely calls it), to learn. Back yourself. You got this. And the angels have got your back.

Making peace with the past, and its scars

In the process of writing last week’s post about transformation I started thinking about my phoenix tattoo, which got me thinking about regret and acceptance.

The phoenix is, of course, a potent symbol of transformation. It’s the mythical bird that rises from the ashes after adversity. The caterpillar emerging from its cocoon into a beautiful butterfly. You get the idea. 
I was certainly making a statement when I chose to get a phoenix tattooed on my upper back at the age of 22. I was also ahead of my time, as Ben Affleck has just done the very same (although his is more colourful and impressive).

To give you some background, at the time I got inked, I had come through the other side of a battle with depression and a redundancy. I wanted to carry a mark that would symbolise my resilience and inner strength. I hoped it would give me something to draw on in challenging times. I believed, in the naïve way that only a 22-year-old could, that I was through my biggest personal crisis. I did not then understand that life is a series of challenges and strength building, and that we are reborn again and again and again (unless, of course, we choose to stay stuck).

Instead of being a badge of honour, the tattoo became a source of regret. It didn’t remind me of my transformation, it only reminded me of the misery that had permeated that chapter of my life. I felt disappointed that I had not grown enough to become the person I had believed I could be on day in a dingy Auckland tattoo studio. Plus, it was kinda ugly. 

So, in my early 30s I decided to have it removed. Unfortunately the laser treatment process was excruciating (vastly more painful that the tattooing process), and was predicted to become more so as treatment progressed. It was also costly. So after five treatments I decided to make peace with the now slightly faded bird, and quit treatment. 

My tattoo removal story in Women's Health magazine

I totally understand how people who have tattoos of their ex’s name on their forearms, or Kermit the Frog tattoos on their butt (I actually know someone in this situation), would want to have those removed. But my tattoo wasn’t that awful. So why had I wanted it erased so badly?

What I’d been trying to do was the equivalent of what people do on Instagram every day – edit out the ugly side and present only the elements of myself that I wanted to be seen. I knew that getting rid of the tattoo would not alter the course of my history, but at least it would mean I wouldn’t have to keep reflecting on it – because every time someone saw the tattoo I had had to explain (in the vaguest of terms) that I had been through “a rough period”. In doing so I was invoking the heavy energy around that period once again. I felt a whiff of the despair and, just like a dementor in Harry Potter, its darkness loomed large. I didn’t want to be dragged down by that chapter any longer. I wanted to put that behind me once and for all. 

So very idealistic.

The past is ugly. It has shadows and it leaves scars. It cannot be erased – even with the heat of a laser. The challenge for me has been in finding a middle ground between acceptance and regret. More than a tattoo could, it was in writing about my battle with depression that I finally made peace with the parts of myself from which I had bled so profusely (read that post here). I now neither embrace nor recoil from reminders of my past struggles. I have taken the lessons and am doing my best to gently move on. I have regrets, but I no longer ruminate on them.

We are all better off for what we’ve been through, good and bad. That’s the unsightly truth.

Transformation is hard. But staying miserable is harder

I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of transformation. When I was a kid my favourite TV show was Jem and the Holograms. I loved that mousy Jerrica Benton had the ability to transform into a glamorous and adored popstar just by touching her star-shaped earrings. You can see how the idea of escaping a mediocre life and becoming extraordinary held such appeal to a young girl who was painfully shy and socially awkward. Come to think of it, the Jem narrative is probably the little girl’s equivalent of Clark Kent transforming into Superman. But with fun music and no burden of civic responsibility. And a lot of pink, which is still my favourite colour.

At some point in my childhood, I realised that most people are programmed to follow the same template for who you become. Something like this: get a job in an office, climb up the ranks, marry, have two kids, get two cats that ignore you (I swear I’ll never understand why people bother with cats!), move to a retirement home, forget everything, then die. The idea that you could choose your own direction and change it at any point was foreign to me. I did not yet understand how much power we have to shape the course of our lives, and how restrictive the supposedly safe path we are taught to follow really is.

Last week I went to a Conscious Club event where the Bondi Hipsters (a well-known Sydney comedy duo) did a presentation about their transition from working in well-paid jobs to becoming full-time entertainers (at great financial cost). For one of the brothers, Christiaan, the transformation was fairly dramatic. After returning from a trip through South America, he was at a client lunch when he suddenly started coughing up “buckets of blood”. He was diagnosed with tuberculosis and put into quarantine in hospital for 12 months. Yep, that’s a whole year in hospital with no one to talk to and no freedom to leave – a pretty depressing scenario. While in confinement, motivated by sheer boredom, he started making rap songs poking fun at his situation, and posting them on YouTube. The Fully Sick Rapper clips went viral. 
Christiaan is open about the fact that there were some pretty dark periods while he was in quarantine, but he says at no point in his lowest moments did he wish he had spent more time in the office or at work meetings. At the most challenging time in his life he had woken up to the fact that his career and substantial pay packet – the two things we’re all taught to chase, covet and hold dear – meant nothing. What mattered was how he had spent his 27 years on the planet so far – and that picture just wasn’t satisfying enough. When he was released from hospital he realised he could not go back to his corporate life – he had to keep living a life of creative expression. I’m paraphrasing here, but what he was saying to us was that he could no longer ignore the voice that had been begging him to live fully on his own path instead of dying partially on the conventional path.

If there is something your soul is longing to do, why aren’t you doing that? Maybe you yearn to write a book. Maybe you dream of fostering kids. Maybe you want to be an alpaca farmer (that would be so great – alpacas are really cute!).

Maybe the idea of transformation scares you. I get that. When you go in a direction that doesn’t fit the template, you have no certainty. But here’s the thing: there are no guarantees on the ‘safe’ path either. You could lose your job. Your spouse could die. Your kid could end up a drug addict. You could get tuberculosis. Your life could be thrown into turmoil at any moment. In such a volatile world, isn’t it better to choose a path that makes you happy?

If there is a voice in you telling you that something needs to change, maybe it’s time to listen to it. Transformation is not easy. It creates a rupture in the fabric of your life, and it can cause friction in your most intimate relationships. You might fail. You might end up poor. You might lose your reputation. But there’s one thing harder than transformation: not changing. Not changing leads to regret. And, just like a quarantine hospital ward, regret is a miserable place to live.

You don’t have to own a pair of pink star earrings to transform your life, you just have to listen to your heart. You already know what you need to do.

There are a thousand reasons to be cynical. Don't. Just believe

Sometimes I feel like a bit of a hypocrite when I’m doing angel card readings. So often I relay angel messages to clients about having faith that everything will work out, and trusting in the Universe’s plan. Then I finish the reading, go home or log out of Skype, and fall to pieces because cashflow is slow or a guy I like hasn’t texted me back. Really, I could do with taking on the guidance I’m dispensing myself – there are often messages in there for me too. As a very wise friend once told me, we are here to teach what we need to learn.

Keeping the faith is a recurring theme in my readings and, consequently, in this blog. In fact it was the subject of the very first post I wrote on this blog, in November 2014. It’s an ongoing struggle. 

Every day we are asked to believe in things which we cannot see or that are not guaranteed – weather predictions, job security, recovery from debilitating illness and relationship longevity, to name a few. Sometimes we do this easily, other times our desire for control and our obsession with timeframes get in the way. 

My love life is where this shows up most for me. I have been told again and again and again in my own readings that I will not be single forever. I have been sent signs, been delivered messages in dreams and even had a message from a deceased relative (via a spirit medium) all reassuring me that I will meet someone wonderful, and I will know him when I meet him. This should be all the reassurance I need. But I lose faith all the time. I look at all the beautiful, outgoing women in Sydney and I think, well, since I can’t compete with that, what else can I offer that would be attractive to men? And with no answers springing to mind, my descent in a negative thought spiral begins.

On Saturday night when I was leaving the Taylor Swift concert, I was feeling miserable because I’d seen a selfie in which I looked really old and haggard, and I felt that no-one would ever want to date me at this late age and stage. For the past few months I had been feeling, for the first time in recent years, really fine with being single and quite relaxed to let things play out as they are supposed to. This storm of doubt had come out of nowhere. Then I got a ridiculously obvious sign that I needed to snap out of it: I was jabbed in the shoulder with some angel wings. Literally, not metaphorically. As I was walking among the bustling crowd heading to the train station, a girl in an angel costume (dressing up is not unusual at a Swifty concert) bumped into me, the sharp corner of her wing pressing into my shoulder. It would be difficult to overlook the symbolism. In fact I would have laughed out loud if I hadn’t been feeling so sorry for myself. I probably should have laughed out loud. The Universe has a sense of humour, after all, and I definitely deserved a prod for being so self-pitying. And I could certainly do with lightening the fuck up.

What the Universe was saying to me was exactly what the band Journey expressed lyrically in the 80s: don’t stop believin’ (hold on to that feelin’…). We live in a cynical world, and of course we have no proof of anything much, so it’s only natural that our faith will falter from time to time. The challenge is to keep rising back to that place where you believe in your dreams and in your luminous, tantalising future again. Nothing is a given – that’s why they call it faith instead of certainty. But believe we must. Without faith, without hope, the world is a very bleak place. 

I know that my present situation is not my future. I have no evidence of this but I believe it anyway. I know I will doubt it again and again, but I also believe I have the resilience to return to all the things I believe in: transformation and beauty and human kindness and miracles. And now I know that if I don’t, the Universe will find a way to jab me in the shoulder and remind me.

PS I thought I should expand this story by adding what happened the next day. I was prompted to draw a card for myself from the Romance With The Angels deck. This is what I got:

See what I mean about that sense of humour?

‘You can’t sit with us.’ How squads and cliques show up in adulthood

Even though I love the movie Mean Girls, it does reveal some uncomfortable truths about the way we exclude others socially. I also adore Taylor Swift, but her penchant for assembling beautiful people in the form of a ‘squad’ takes me right back to the misery of teenage cliques.

There’s an interesting study out of the US that shines a light on how being excluded affects us on a deep level.

Researchers at Ohio State University got 5000 participants to play a computer game in which they were told to only ‘pass the ball’ to certain people. The players who were excluded ended up with elevated blood pressure and stress hormones. The isolation effect also triggered the part of their brains that processes pain – so being excluded literally causes people pain.

I’m no scientist, but I’d imagine those effects happen because our body recognises the danger of being cast out of the pack. In evolutionary terms, our very survival depended on being part of a tribe so we weren’t attacked by wild animals nor left to fend for food on our own.

There are emotional effects too, obviously. The researchers concluded that when we are ostracised, our self-esteem plummets (boo!). We lose a sense of belonging, which, they noted, is extremely important to emotional well-being. 

I’ve noticed the rise of the hashtags #squad and #squadgoals on social media, and this trend bothers me because it smacks of elitism. That underlying exclusivity really raises my hackles. What you are saying – and this is only my opinion – when you describe a group of people as a ‘squad’ instead of simply ‘friends’ is, essentially we’re a club – you do not belong. You can’t sit with us.

I wrote recently about how a desire to fit in with the tribe sometimes shows up for me (click here for that post). The fear of being excluded is still real, well beyond my high school years. But perhaps that’s because I've always felt like an outsider.

A few years ago I was absolutely devastated when I logged onto Facebook and saw photos of my (now former) best friend’s baby shower – an event I had known nothing about. All of our friends had been invited. To be fair, we had been drifting apart for some time, and I am not particularly maternal so I’m not an ideal baby shower guest. Still, the fact that everyone else in our circle had been included, and I had not, was excruciating. The sting of being excluded by a group of people I had cared about made me burn with shame.

I would like to think that as I become more comfortable with being myself I will become less concerned with how other people perceive me, and consequently how they might treat me – i.e. by exclusion or acceptance. I’m aware that as a highly sensitive, introverted person who works in the spiritual realm, I am even less likely to fit into the mainstream now than I was in high school.

If no one wants to sit with me, because they perceive themselves as better than me or just because they don’t like me, I need to learn to be fine with that.

I’m fairly confident that being excluded does not mean I’m in danger of being trampled by a mammoth.