by Kirsten Macdonald | Kirsten Macdonald
Well hello 2016 you sexy son of a bitch. How are you? Are you surviving?
I would like to begin my saying I wish mine had started off with a positive bang. But there is a fine line between Philosophy and Reality, the paradoxical duo that have us stumbling around in First World problems with a gin and tonic in one hand and Dr. Seuss in the other.
Disclaimer: I make no apology for the depth of the following conversation- there IS NO small talk ( as a friend of mine would say). If you would like to walk in the meadow together and chat about the weather please put on your TV or Google it, cos it ain’t going to happen.
I would love to say that 2016 started off joyfully, however that would be giving it the congrats it barely deserves, I shall be complimentary enough to grant it the respect it needs so far- it has bought abundant lessons and invaluable reflections. Life gives you lemons? Our lemon tree is throwing them like a bitch, its a dodge-ball game without the lemonade! No, that’s not true, watch me make that lemonade, it shall be the finest lemonade in the all land, tart with a hint of zesty sweetness, the elixir of life…
I have heard it mentioned in some circles that the current position of the world is in a “quickening.”
There are a lot of things going on in our atmosphere, our humanity and cosmos creating quite a commotion. Whether you subscribe to this or not, I have seen some shit go down already that is breathtaking, like an operetta of “Uh Oh”. Astrology charts should be shouting in capital letters “Hang onto your seats ladies and gentlemen and kiss your bums goodbye” Okay maybe I am being melodramatic.
But if you look around you there is a lot of stuff going on all over the world, both positive and horrendous. Everyone is on their own journey and popping their heads over into other people’s journeys. Some of those head popper-overers are sticky beaks, some are saviors and some are just narcissistic voyeurs, either way it’s a busy place to be.
I have images of our Guardian Angels walking home from work, exhausted, wings drooping and shaking their heads in bewilderment, then steeling themselves up for a new day at the office like Rocky prepping for the Clubber Lang fight.
I have had moments of wanting to pack up my favorite people, fellow Concave Polygons and run for the hills where we can make moonshine, whistle Bowie tunes (this is an artform, try and whistle Golden Years from start to finish. RIP major Tom x) and discuss the Politics of Jedi balance. This is true.
But I didn’t. I stayed in the Burbs and did the washing, paid the bills, mopped the floors etc etc. Time to be mumsy, a wifey, a friend, an aunty, a daughter, a sibling, an entrepreneur, a writer, a candlestick maker…
November and December bought Light a Spark campaign, to raise money for the Alfred Hospital and with that gorgeous journey with my lovely new friend Regina, my family and I found ourselves promoting, wrapping, packing and delivering Candles all over Australia to raise funds for the Neuro ward at the Alfred Hospital Melbourne, and we didn’t stop!
Busy tidbits and family commitments had me up to my ears in candle wax and ‘what- not’s’ which left little time for much, top that with brilliant business success for the year, a Dad who was still alive and recovering after a very scary near miss, new friendships and exciting times and then….then came the Christmas tsunami.
Christmas is usually a time of honoured blessings, fun fervour and rejoicing our Christian faith in our household.
This Christmas was different. Not a nice different either… the faith was there but whoa…there were personal upheavals going on around us so fast it was crazy and from every angle. Relationship breakdowns with friendships, new business deals souring, hurt, confusion, anger, arguments…our world became a sudden and unexpected battleground with us sitting here dazed and confused. I won’t go into personal detail but its been a bit awful.
Then there has been the quiet realization creeping in too that the “next check” was coming, and this always brings with it restlessness.
The momentum starts to build of what will or won’t be, and if you have ever tried to take a dog back to the vets for a check after having a procedure you will know that wee pup is going to drag its backside. Backside dragging I am good at, as well as using the mantra “IM FINE.” Lesson #657: Health Crisis do not make you immune from humans behaving badly, including yourself. Lesson #658: Getting sick can scare other humans and make them want to not like you anymore, if you die they will hurt so step away as quickly as possible. My Question for the teacher: But sir, what happens if you have no intention of dying and you plan on living until you are at least 98? At least! Response: can you hear crickets chirping?
To cut it all short I basically swung into the New Year exhausted, and I will acknowledge right here I was warned.
Loved ones around me warned me, my body warned me. It wasn’t from work or physical exertion, it was from trying to please everyone and everything, every need and most of all trying to bow to the my own needs and demands of Time.
Time has been my friend, my blessings, my curse, my companion, my alarm, my reminder, and then I realized after Christmas it had morphed into becoming my Keeper. A Master of my mind; always just there in my thoughts…time, time, time. I appreciated it as a reminder for gratitude but it grew into a heavy yoke, threatening to cut off my circulation. Even in gratitude and hobbling to take full advantage of every moment and savor every piece is a little whisper of ‘what if’ and ‘maybe’ and even ‘soon’. Weird huh?
That in amongst the haste of being positive you are allowing the negative, acknowledging you might not make it, but then you might…I am finding there really is paradox in everything, light and shade.
Being grateful for time also includes knowing the downside of the lack of it. You can’t have popcorn without the heat you know? But I am shoving popcorn down my throat and its starting to make me choke. And if any of you have ever seen me eat popcorn you will laugh; imagine a Dyson vacuum cleaner and you might get an idea.
The ticking was getting too loud on that damn clock. I needed practice at patience. So often I want to bite life off in chunks but it isn’t meant to be bitten, for me its meant to be nibbled. At the moment it feels like gnawing. Held back. Because this is the fight I find my mind in: I need loads more time.
I want to see what blue eyes looks like old and wrinkly, and there is so much fun to be had with these humans I created with my body.
They are the coolest humans, truly they are. Gifts of love, abundant, cheeky, complaining, whining, burping, fighting, hugging and whatever else they feel like doing, they are the most kind, humorous and intelligent, musically attuned humans I know. I hope they stay that way. I pray this place doesn’t wreak too much havoc and they remember their inner; that when the world screams MORE they will listen when their hearts whisper “less”. I want them to be strong enough, brave enough to make their difference in the world and I can’t help do that or lead them there when I am shoveling popcorn in my mouth and fighting an aneurysm poppage. Makes me about as useful as a bloody ashtray on a motorcycle, seriously.
This tribe of mine; we have countries and places to travel to, educationing (I made that word up) to be had, differences to be made. Endless Spanakopita conversations to be had in coffee shops with blue folk, (I’ll explain later) mountains to climb together, ashrams to see, people to help… You see how my mind works? I get myself all knotted up worse than Bert from Sesame Street with his paperclip collection.
Ahem…Its time for a rebalance.
I need to listen to the Less to make a difference so in my bowing gratitude I am now endeavoring not to think about time.
To relax a little, not think too much about the sands in the hour glass and go with the flow, see where it takes me. How? I am not 100% sure on that yet. So off I went to my trusted mentor and Kinesiologist and had an energy rebalance, I then spent days reflecting, writing and in prayer and meditation. This rebalancing -replaced angst and deep hurt with understanding, compassion and calm, a sense of peace. I felt like a kitten that was fed so much all I could do was roll into a ball in front of a warm fire and sleep. There is no other feeling like that of peace is there? I received a swift yet kind lecture about self care and the old Oxygen mask chat. Have you heard that one? If you are in an airplane and its going down, you should place the oxygen mask on yourself first then on your little ones, because otherwise you lose consciousness and are no good for anyone lol. This is a hard one when you are bred into a society that tells you self love is selfish. Again, learning people…learning!
Slow down; the message has been loud and clear. My body is so very tired, my immune system is pretty wrecked and it all needs some attention as well as my nervous system.
There is not much I can control at the moment but I have been given multiple options for growing and healing, why wouldn’t I take them? It doesn’t serve me well to be disempowered and helpless, restless and anxious. What does serve is the sense of peace I get when I listen. There is an entire universe within if we listen closely. Like Horton hears a Who, the question is whom is on your speck and are you listening closely?
My speck has helped me make a decision to create my own retreat over the next 4 weeks, allocating practice to some of what I did when I was in rehab a couple of years ago; dedicating the whole day to the healing process. The next month is going to be about healing, loving and mending. It already has these things however more concentration is going to be spent on daily scheduled meditation, yoga, reflection, mindfulness, aromatherapy, playtime with my little family, gentle exercise as well as some powerful brain training exercises getting both sides firing and the most important; prayer time. I am pretty sure that this is a recipe for healing lines and complete recovery.
I want my body mind and spirit to be fully pumped, in 4 weeks time, no matter what they tell me, no matter what happens, in any capacity I will be prepared, ready and my body and my mind will be such a watertight vessel that it can manoeuvre the waves, whether they be smooth and glasslike or stormy and full of icebergs. I am going to ignore time as much as possible, and I am going to get one with the Concave Polygon. So this is my plan, I am going to ride into 2016 like a Jedi, my arms and legs might be flying around as awkward as a drunken giraffe on roller-skates but it will be done! I shall also re-watch the Goonies and Harry Potter with my tribe and nibble slowly on popcorn with a gin and tonic in one hand and Dr. Seuss in the other!
In the words of the Great Seuss:
“And when you’re alone there’s a very good chance
you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.”
“You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?”
“You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.”
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”
“You’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting,
So… get on your way!”
PS- For Mel x
by Kirsten Macdonald | Kirsten Macdonald
I may have mentioned to you before that I had this thing for the Magic Faraway Tree as a kid that verged on madness. I climbed a tree in our street, nailed some pieces of wood to make a ladder and seat in it and charged every kid within a 2 km radius 20c to climb the Magic Faraway tree. Yes the entrepreneurial spirit was just kicking off. What I wasn’t counting on was the fact that a lot of those kids didn’t have the same imagination as I did.
My imagination was as close to natural hallucinogenic mushroom mind as you could get. So I got a lot of confused looks and anger, had to give money back and ended up losing my street cred. First lesson in always Keeping the Customer Happy and possibly keeping the magic to oneself. We moved to a nicer house and a bigger street where most of the people were old people. They indulged my imagination and it was sweet.
My Then -stepfather decided to build us a tree house. It was not a plank of wood or nailed into a tree it was a huge spectacular castle nestled in the crisp, caterpillar squiggles of a Eucalypt. Magnificent and all beautiful, the frame of an old water tank had been chopped, wrapped and welded around a huge gum tree in the center of the yard. A ladder, a proper lacquered, polished ladder rested against the truck and you climbed up into it. The Tree house itself was a collection of old fruit bins put together to create a fort. It was high. So high, that when I looked out I could see all of Kyabram.
The top of the trees had birds and more air, the wind in the leaves and the sky seemed so much closer. Grownups couldn’t fit through the hole. This was important. This was good.
I would sit there for hours and it was the most magical place on the planet and even the entire universe. I snuck out and slept out there one night, carrying my old red blanket and my dog Deefa. We snuck back inside before the grown ups could find out. I’ve been scared of the dark my whole life, but that night I wasn’t scared. I was excited and felt like an adventurer. After that I couldn’t see why I couldn’t live out there. I argued the point with my mother. She must have been amused at the time. I remember she made me a picnic to take up there and a little stool.
Looking out over our town I would think about what it would be like as a grown up, the amazing travels I would have, all the chocolate I would eat, unfettered, the books I would write. What a marvelous life I would have, I wouldn’t have any grown ups around except my Mum and Nanna, and if I had babies that would be nice too. I liked playing house in my bedroom in between magic carpets and coming up with Toad inducing magical potions in the fernery.
That tree house was mine for 2 whole weeks. Then the day came that we went to go get milk and never went home. I knew when she gripped my hand it was forever. Don’t ask me how I knew that, but I did. It was a resolute feeling in my tum. I gripped my little sister’s hand, and my little brother held my mothers hand. With the simplicity of my child’s mind I remember walking up the street looking back at the house thinking, “I’m really going to miss that Tree-house.”
I was also really disappointed in myself. You see 2 weeks previous I had come up with the concoction of a lifetime. I mixed, blended and infused a variety of ingredients inspired by Chapter 19 – The Land of Enchantments (The Folk of the Faraway Tree for those that are Blyton-ignorant). In Chapter 19 a nasty green goblin had Beth trapped in a magic circle and she couldn’t get out. A spell was needed. So I used some tadpole slime, a couple of gum-nuts, some moss I found under a pot-plant log out the side and a small hair from my dog. (I had heard hair of the dog was good???) I smashed up an apple for good measure and mixed it all up. It took a long time, my arm ached and I remember feeling so intensely amazed at myself with coming up with such a plan. It was an ointment. A perfect ointment, just like the Magic Wishing Chair ointment. Two wonderful sources of information right there- it was un-foilable. So of course I painted it in the most obvious place you would put an ointment on a goblin- His Thongs. The bottom of the Then-stepfather’s thongs had magical ointment on them. He would mow the lawns in them like he always did and by the morning he would be nice. He would lose that angry goblin face that hit out and the nice man would return, everyone would be happy and life would be good again.
The very next day he started building the tree house! JOY! I couldn’t believe my good fortune, mixed with a little bit of excited fear that I had managed such a thing. I wonder what Nanna would say? Would Jesus approve of that kind of thing? Magical ointments? Oh-My-Goodness Gracious as that Tree house took form I cannot tell you the bubbling crazy run around the backyard with your t-shirt pulled over your head joy it gave me.
So the ointment must have worn off, either that or the prayer I said the day Things- Went –Topsy- Turvy worked. We left and I was glad to leave the Goblin but sad to leave my Tree house. Luckily my mother was brave enough to weave a magic carpet, I don’t even know how she did that. But she did and it really was quite beautiful, all its patterns and weavings twisting together for a new future in a different land. It ended up being the Land of Crossthwaite Street, the land of Fringe dwellers otherwise known as Housing Commission filled with interesting people, but it was Interesting and you must never ever knock Interesting! The stories we tell about it now would make Aladdin’s cave look lame. It was a place of treasure I can tell you, I found a special treasure in that Land; it was called Jacqui- a special friend that I still have to this day.
I grew up and knew that there is magic and hope and I can tell you that I grew up and I had my gorgeous babies, I wrote a book and my Nanna lives around the corner, as well as my fetish for Tree house Architecture I have an uncanny addiction to chocolate. The ointment isn’t really very effective, I tried to perfect it and worked out my Alchemy blossomed in saying prayers and making Candles.
I hope that the Goblin found his own ointment and his heart mended the anger, maybe he just needed to change his thongs. Now I look back and realize that as a child I was taking much too responsibility for the grown ups. Surely one must keep one’s ointments and magic to themselves and the Grown Ups need to make their own. I learned a lot from that time, and there have been moments this year where I wish with all my heart I could use an ointment to fix this old scarecrow brain of mine, take away my family’s fear, climb a treehouse and look at the world with the innocent and simple perspective of a child. Not sure which would make sure sense. One thing I am most certain of, everyone needs a bit of imagination, a whole lot of magic, prayer and love. Even if you are a grown up. Till next time, I am off now to find some wood and nails…
Blessings x
For Lisa- Thank you for reminding me of adventures, I still feel sorry for the sheep though. Our inner child’s shall have such fun! x
by Kirsten Macdonald | Kirsten Macdonald
It’s been a while.
I know.
I am sorry.
I have been going through a bit of a process, a great word – from Latin processus, “a going forward, advance, progress.” Moving forward, I hope that is what I’ve been doing. It might be slower than a herd of turtles, but I am getting there.
So much has been going on, and I’ve been in observer mode. You know sometimes in life when everyone and everything spins around so fast you feel like you are watching the carousel? Deciding when to jump back on, you take a running leap, and BANG, you missed it. Deep breaths. Okay, this one looks good. I will jump on HERE. Nope, gone again.
If I am really honest, there have been a few days when I want to gather my children and Lothario and escape from the Carousel into the branches of the Faraway tree into the land of Always & Hugs. We would stay up all night laughing and eating copious amounts of popcorn, and we would never get fat because the Queen of Always & Hugs has exiled Sir Carbohydrate to the land of NoFun.
It didn’t take me long, did it? There’s the gambler and the rambler. I have refined the art of verbal diarrhea.
I am avoiding. Procrastinating- Latin for “Not getting the shit that needs to be done, done.” I went to the Doctor; I went for an MRI a few weeks ago. The MRI- a lovely big tunnel of magnetic genius. Like the Wizard of OZ behind the curtain, they work their magic to look at amazing pictures of your upstairs grey matter. An hour of lying in an enclosed space, with ear muffs while big noisy machines click and grind around you, shrouded behind space-age plastic and metal.
I pretend I’m in a space Odyssey capsule, flying faster than the speed of light to the Land of Chocolate & Johnny Depp (have you heard darling? It’s meant to be just de-lish). Then you wait a few hours, they don’t make eye contact normally. Because they know and you don’t, and they are beautiful, dedicated and often polite people, so they don’t want to acknowledge that you know that they know. So everyone pretends they don’t know. I actually find it quote socially awkward sometimes.
Sometimes I feel like patting their arm and saying “Look I know what’s in there, don’t worry, I am cool with it, really. Go have a coffee, take a load off.”
On other days I feel like looking at them and saying “Can I just ask? Have aliens infiltrated it? Because I’ve been wearing some pretty bloody thick aluminium foil around there and It doesn’t seem to be doing the trick,” and signing off with the Captain Spock hand gesture and walking mysteriously off into the distance with my arse hanging out of my gown. That’s usually on a bad day.
Lots of people ask what this stinky aneurysm actually is. So if you want to be bored senseless, and I really hope the doctors aren’t reading this as it is WAY TOO SIMPLISTIC- SO LAYMANS TERMS LOL.
Ok, let’s do this quickly …the aneurysm is a big misshapen balloon in my Brain, but more precisely in my Internal Carotid Artery, facing opposite my Opthamalic artery and many other little arteries that feed all the blood supply to the front of the Brain, including the eyes. Picturing? So basically, if it ruptures, I would die very quickly or in some medical staff’s words, I would wish I was dead (yup, these words have been used). Normally, aneurysms can be clipped or coiled to seal off the blood going into it. I’ve already had this done back in 2012. This is a completely different aneurysm. Imagine a balloon filling and filling until the wall gets too thin, or even a hose with a bubble in the side wall. If blood is filling into it, depending on the size and location, it weakens and can break. So back in November, I was told it was a case of uh oh– no clipping, no coiling, no neurosurgery, but at the same time, it was such a nasty little bugger if they did nothing, I would die. The Doctor’s estimate at the time was that I would be lucky to get to Christmas.
So they put FRED™ in, a Flow Diverter, to take all the blood away from the aneurysm and redirect the flow. When you take the blood flow away, the aneurysm can shrink and occlude itself or, in layman’s terms, shrivel up and be no more. They did this by threading a catheter all the way from my groin to my Brain and placing two Diverters in there.
They were very honest with me, the nature of this brain aneurysm was so severe that they were wanting and praying that this could save my life or prolong it a bit. Life or a bit more time. Either way was better than Christmas. (Try telling that one to your three kids, no thank you very much).
To cut another long story short, this is not like a brain tumour. It’s not about getting bigger, and if it doesn’t get bigger, it’s okay, or if it gets a little bit bigger, it’s okay. This cannot grow. If it grows any more, no more Kirsten. It’s that simple.
Harsh, huh? It definitely hasn’t grown because I am typing this blog, and unless the NBN has developed at super speed and Heaven has WIFI, so far, so good.
SO FRED is working well enough that I am still here. The not-so-great news was that blood is still entering the aneurysm. It isn’t shriveling or occluding. They expected it to be doing this by now or even be gone. It isn’t. It’s still filling with blood.
Yours truly was so excited before this news because I wanted to report back that it is gone. It is all gone, and I am going to revert back to normal land. Who was I kidding? First, I’ve never been “normal” per se. Second, that would be really greedy, considering I have already received multiple miracles. Third, I am not going to question the process. Fourth, ” Hello, my name is Kirsten, and I might be a perfectionist.” Hmph.
The good news is that it might take 12 months for it to happen. The scary news is that the artery might not make it.
So there it is. I have a time bomb in my head every day. I could live until next Tuesday or until 2050. This time bomb has also been my golden opportunity and key to looking at my life in all sorts of different ways. It’s true; I appreciate all the little things and the big things, too, with a new light. My educated guess is that the bomb will be dissected and stop ticking before the year is out. I hope so. The red wire or the blue wire? Anyone’s guess. They have done everything they can. But maybe in October 2015, some scientists will release a laser beam that can penetrate and vaporate blood flow in an instant. Who knows? Now, there’s an idea…
If one more person says, “Or you could get hit by a bus tomorrow, none of us know”, I will scream. I really will. Like a “back away now- she’s going a funny colour” kind of scream. No, not really. Have you ever seen me cross? Apparently, according to my Lothario, it’s an amusing event to watch.
I mean this with absolute love and good intent but for the purpose of understanding- Please take a big uncomfortable chemical lump of C4 attached to a super big bomb, strap it to your chest while sitting at a Russian Roulette game, take a big breath and listen to the ticking of the clock. Can you hear it?
Just a tip- it ticks louder when you tuck your children into bed when you see a sunset, and you hug someone. It even gets caught in your throat when the dog does something cute or your brother makes you proud. I have to sit in my car and watch my son play tennis because otherwise, I get misty-eyed. When my little niece CC runs up to me (every single time she sees me) and gushes, “Oh, I LOVE YOU, Aunty Kirst”, looking at me like I am amazing and hugging me like a vice, I get a bit scared, my heart will explode and I will make a big mess. I’m not kidding; it’s kind of pathetic. So the bomb ticks… (like sands through the hourglass? So dramatic, I should really get a grip)
The ticking gets super loud at the midnight hour, too. I talk to it, I make it my friend, and I do all the right things to ease my body and mind and keep calm so I can carry on. But, when mortality is in your waking moments, through your day, and in your dreams, you are not fully submerged. You are not positioned on the carousel like most of the population. Your thinking IS different. Your experience of life, spirit and love is different. Your relationship with the idea of death changes dramatically. The difference is good, bad, ugly and positive. It just is.
So I am fine. I am good, no really, I am fine. I kept it together the day I had my review and MRI. Lothario and I even made silly jokes in the waiting room together. Hugs are good when they are for people you think are crazy awesome, aren’t they?
The trip home was fine. We were all ok. Then I woke up at 2.00am and had a little walk outside, pacing the backyard in the Wintery chill and having a serious convo with the Bearded Wise Guy upstairs. I asked him if I could hand back the ticking thing. I then realized he didn’t give it to me, so how could I give it back? It was a human thing, this ticking business. Humans can break, did you hear? Their parts can and do stop working sometimes. It’s the darnedest thing. It is complicated.
So, back at the 2.00am backyard Q&A session, I took some long, slow breaths asking for guidance, and in true Frozen form, the answer came, “Let it Go”, so let it go, I did. Many, many tears came. Huge ones, little ones, fat ones, Forrest Gump sideways ones. They fell for a long time, and with each tear, I could feel the tension and fear draining away. It was okay, I was not alone. I was surrounded by a grace and peace that felt strongest in my chest. As my tears fell, I could feel my heart unravel just enough to let some faith back in. I wiped the tears, made a cup of tea, and asked for some really good stuff to happen to lift my heart. Within hours, I received three pieces of news that made my day.
The second was that my Nanna was ready and waiting at the local nursing home. She moved to live around the corner from me. Nellie Florence, my beautiful, wonderful Guardian Angel, was brave enough to move from Far away to Close. From the Land of Bendigo to the Land of the Blowing Cold Winds (otherwise known as Geelong). My inner child was so flipping excited it was on a sugar high, red cordial and ants-in-my-pants joy that had me unable to sit still! She’s alive and around the corner for me to hug whenever I want to.
The third was that I would live the day out and get to hug my children, feel their warmth and their breath on my cheek and walk through their mess. (The mess bit only lasted until Wednesday, if I am really honest)
And such is life. It is a roller coaster or carousel, as my daughter would put it. So, I have jumped back onto the Carousel. It took me a few weeks to get the nerve again and be friends with my vulnerable, scared self while embracing the inner warrior who trusts in God and maintains her faith about jumping onto a moving object. I even had a weekend with great mates and laughed until it really hurt, and it was so good.
And here we are.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to share. Check out our new support page on this website and I wish you well.
The other is Annie L., our tyre men connection, our Kerry connection, our brain connection and now our heart connection. I want you to know that you have been in my prayers, blessings and thoughts EVERY DAY since we walked passed each other in Ocean Grove- a glimpse is worth a thousand words. My blessings to you in your journey are in abundance. You are amazing, and you are not alone, and I hope your heart is peaceful; you are getting enough daily laughter with your Vitamin D along with lots of love and a shrinking tumour xxx
by Kirsten Macdonald | Kirsten Macdonald
You have days that plonk themselves on you like a big fat lardy icky stink.
Days where it can be hard to whistle and smile. I had a couple of those days this week. I think it came from my having to have “bed rest” which is equivalent to saying a profoundly gutteral swear word in my ear. Say what? Rest? LOL.
Being somewhat of an analytical type and being a bit shamed up for feeling low and ungrateful I started to cross examine myself. I have had revolting vertigo and migraines. I have some damage to my vision and optical nerves after a nasty bout of violent vomiting. Symptoms now, and not nice ones. Am I getting better or is the aneurysm growing? eeek. No I am ok, I am ok, really am ok. I’m concentrating every day on healing and this FRED device in my head is working, I just know it!
But the clincher has been the lack of physical exercise.
A couple of years ago when I learned to walk again it ignited a joy for the physical, moving ones muscles and pushing through limits and barriers became a real centre of passion for me. Not to mention the copious amounts of serotonin my body now craves like chocolate after getting the old pins working. I knew how much joy it gave me, but I never thought I would be in this situation, where I had to seriously rest again (just for a bit).
So the quandary became evident that I had a bad case of feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want to sit around eating worms and I had allowed myself a few days of mwah so I sent a request to the heavens for some lifting up and had a serious chat to myself, a coachy passionate pep talk.
What can I do to make myself feel better? How do I alter my attitude? What would make me feel good?
A trip to a tropical island….nope not this week.
A back rub from Johnny Depp while a I smoke a cuban cigar?…nice but not probable..
I read a few books…and I prayed again. Asking for patience and maybe just a little something to lift me up.
Then there was a knock on the door, (I am serious, it was within minutes) I received a beautiful big bunch of flowers, so colourful and gorgeous and a bundle of letters. I opened the letters and there were cards from very special children all signed with messages of hope and love. My friend’s children had written cards with their classmates sending prayers of good health and healing. Another friends beautiful daughter had drawn a card with us together on it. A few tears later and I was lifted. Well and truly Blessed huh?
A few little choices that may not be politics changing huge are actually stepping stones to feeling good, abundant and blessed. They are spiritually huge, human kind huge.
Those precious little people chose to write me a card. A special friend chose to send flowers. I chose to pray. We all synchronistically made a choice and it resulted in shooing away negativity to the nasty little corner it belongs in. There’s that Alchemy at work again. Even as I type this I feel that gratitude rising up again, thats the cool thing about Joy, it has a residue that can keep repeating in your chest like positive reflux!
Just about Every crappy situation can have a silver lining somewhere. (I say JUST as we are human and there are a lot of things that go on in the world that Im sure aren’t silver) How could I get to a place where I am thankful to my illness?
Being in that situation makes you really reflect and take a big gulp when you view your life from a different angle of no bullshit. Trust me when I say don’t waste your time.
Because ONE day and hopefully its when you are 85 plus, but one day you WILL look at your life from this perspective. You do not want to be looking at it saying “I wish i did, I wish I didnt, I wish I had.” You want to be able to sit there and say “Man! I gave that a crack! I gave it everything I had, and it sure was a ride!”
You see I don’t think we give ourselves permission. Sometimes its a lack of confidence, resources etc.
I had years of doing work I was good at but actually detested. I am lying there thinking What would I really like to be doing? Why would I like doing this? What can I offer? Can it generate an income? I have a family to support as well, so the practical is relevant. Is my intention right?
I came up with a list.
Life IS Short
I want to be with my kids, available to them, home after school
I love making candles, Im passionate about Eco products, it fascinates me
I want to be creative
I know I can make an excellent and unique product
I know I could do this EVERY day and never get sick of it.
So… I started making a list of all the things I needed to do and learn to turn my hobby into a profitable business. I had plenty of time to do this whilst recuperating. Thats where the second chapter for me started, with that choice, the choice to give myself permission. I would not have made this choice had I not been so unwell. I would not have justified it, I would have made common sensical excuses, resistance and I had so many people around me so full of common sense trying to talk me out of it. Folk can be so insightful and awfully sensible and willing to rain on one’s parade sometimes!
There is only one choice; Infuse passion into your life, any bloody way you can.
Only good things can come from it. If its sport, painting, writing, healing, counselling, jumping, nutrition, running, weight lifting, bee keeping, flying, jewellery making…..anything. The people that say don’t live with regrets know what they are on about. You will think these thoughts one day, you will reflect on them one day. End of story. Also take time to contemplate these thoughts, reflect. Take a moment. Take a breath.
I give this advice to you free of charge friend, trust me on it.
Give yourself a time frame to make it happen, make a plan, what are the best things that can happen from it? What are the worst things? Action the plan, and the Alchemy starts again, your choice is like a seed you plant, suddenly it grows! Your life . Your choices. Its all about making good choices. The old free will is a magical seed, what you infuse it with will grow. If you want a stale, ugly twisted vine to grow, then make that choice. Me? I will take the gigantic shiny scary beanstalk thanks! If you believe in and love what you do I believe its a very organic process that starts to take place, it feeds into what you are doing and shines a light on it. Passion can be infectious.
