Hi there

The piece of writing I have shared with you this month is my commitment to you as a teacher who promised I would always go first.  This truly is a first, as I have always written for you, but never shared a piece of writing - my talent or my gift as a writer, separate from that of the teacher. 

I didn't understand the need to share this with you and battled terribly for a month with frustration every time I tried to write this newsletter, but today the answer was made crystal clear.  I have been frustrated with my inability to decide the self esteem with which I have been making choices this month and so finally surrendered to the lowest of esteems by pulling a fairy oracle card this morning and asked them to tell me if I, in fact, was doing the right or wrong thing; making the right or wrong choice!  'Self Reliance' was the reply... in a nutshell and with the true blatancy with which the Universe (remembering that we are the Universe) communicates with us.  I got slapped so quickly back into reality.  The card basically told me that this was the dumbest questions I had asked to date and that they had no intention of giving me any sort of answer as I had the answer the entire time.  I always have the answers and I always know what's best for me.  Most importantly they reminded me of the point behind this newsletter.  To show you that whether you think my piece of writing is good or not... it does not change that I am a good (no a great) writer... because when I rely on myself and myself alone... I know that.

What are you waiting for? For someone else to confirm how great, sexy, smart or fabulous you are?

HUMAN SCARS

I closed my eyes and imagined the scar on the inside of my middle left finger while trying to remember what I was cooking on that day.  The stroke of my fingertip along my brow reminded me of my sister's forceful push that tumbled me off the bed.  While describing the memory of the distinct mark on my right hand, I felt an instant tear in my heart that I knew would heal in time, yet never mend.

As he traced the shape of the eternally broken skin that etched a little hollow at the very top of my forehead I tried failingly to reflect back on the pain that once accompanied my clumsy childhood injury.

It was his turn to find the same excuse for my affection as he stretched his arm out across my body to bare a jagged line along the crease of his elbow.  My thumb moved the length of the scar, giving me an excuse to wrap my finger around his god-like skin.   If he told me the teenage story or described his vivid recollection of every stitch, I just can't remember.  My broken memories only take me back to the weight of his arm caressing my hips, without touching, and his fingertips resting on my thigh, without giving.

The cruel irony drew a taunting silence into the familiar safety of my bedroom. Each stroke of our wounds awoke the caution of being too tender for fear of ripping open ancient memories of relationships past.  We had never hurt each other and might never have found a reason to, if only we were not plagued by the scars that carved fearful boundaries into our hearts.  Were it not for the slightest contrast on our flawless skin, I doubt we would remember many of the incidents that brought us to our scarred demise.  I wonder if we would even remember any pain felt or tear shed at all?

The shadow of a teacher is often depicted as the fearful individual who would dare not attempt that which they guide others to strive for; the ballerina that prepares so many hours for their finest curtain call, yet never tastes the majesty of the applause; or the professor who creates the supreme lawyer, but never revels in the courtroom victory.

I am a great teacher of love; the unconditional kind.  That which overcomes all obstacles, mends despite torment, heals after torture and lives without scars.  I too am the shadow who watches the ballet amidst the cluttered props that will eventually have more stage presence than I.

And he, also lurking in the shadows, emerging as yet another student seeking the very lessons of love.

The calculated facades of clueless student and overly attentive teacher began the torturous grasp for moments away from a room filled with loveless individuals.  Needless extra lessons that spanned hours of nothingness were laced with imaginary boundaries in the sand on a windswept day.

Yet, something always eluded the undeniable potential of taking centre stage, forgetting the classroom role play and braving the prospect of becoming the students of love.

Questions had stirred within me from the moment he arrived for the dinner we had danced around for months.  I felt him tear at my heart almost as quickly as we left the untouched meal only to spend the next few hours floating above the covers and avoiding intimate moments in the most sacred of homely spaces. 

How does the core within us, surrounded by a fortress of fleshy armour, so powerful that it holds our life in the rhythm of its song; how does that become the barer of unhealed scars and the victim of our life experiences?  How do the mighty fear the fight and the wise forget to heal?  How does the keeper of time pass by the precious moments?  How does the house of love banish its lord?

Remember being a child and scraping your knee?  Not long after the pain subsided, the wound healed and the skin held its constant reminder, we found ourselves fearlessly back up the tree that shook us from its branches, playing with the very friend who pushed us and riding the bike that failed us.  Before we had the power to destroy with our thoughts and manipulate our minds, we understood that an experience is neutral and pain is only as deep as the memory we attach to it.

I can't speak for him because if I could it would mean he had been the mighty or the wise, allowing me to pass through the gates that caged his heart.  I can only speak for the delusional wounds that erupted as his warm breath kissed my forehead and whispered while leaving "You deserve someone better. I'm only going to hurt you".

He left destruction so deep that my heart bled into my lungs and my body lost its will to care.  My chest burned raging flames that battered my throat and poisoned by body.  As illness prevailed I wallowed in his power to weaken my body for far too many lonely, scar-forming days.  Hours filled with images of secret moments shared amongst a room filled with oblivious acquaintances.  More hours filled with recollections of emails that teased at the undeniable "soul" connection.  Hours again filled with memories of random phone calls that had no beginning, no end and no point besides the longing. Days filled with pathetic yearning that took precious moments and tarnished them with self inflicted torture.

Then, whether prepared for it or not, our bodies begin to heal, our excuses to lie and rot run dry and our plea for our heart to give in to our grief falls on deaf ears. 

Family cursed him, friends hated him, my heart wept for him, yet my soul was still. 

I have always assumed that our soul resides within our hearts thanks to the teachings of spirituality and religion.  Boundless references label the heart as the only true place to exist from, hence where else would the soul dare to dwell and why should it not feel the pain and be equally crushed in the pursuit of love lost?

Within my mind I conjured up enough torment to etch yet another imaginary scar into my already wounded heart.  Without even visualising it, we strip away the power that our every heartbeat holds and minimise it to a frail lump of muscle that could fit within the palm of our own hand.  Great things of extraordinary power have taken far less space, yet have changed eternity.  

Every thing within us has two parts.  That which it physically is and that which we imagine it to be.  In the naivety of our imagination and the misplaced residence of our very souls, we foolishly cut into our own hearts.

And then my soul spoke of love.  Not from where I trustingly misplaced it: in my battered and bruised chest, amongst the turmoil, pain and festering anger.  It spoke from the one place I was fighting anxiously to leave. It banged at my brain and shook my mind until it finally silenced me, only to fill me with a new noise and the true rhythm of my heart.

My soul, silenced no more, spoke of human scars:  "From the moment you breathed life, you were encouraged to look within; to turn your eyes inwards and search to find yourself.  A true self that has been hidden like a treasure deliberately misplaced in order to create a searching that would span a lifetime.

To no avail as you ponder every word uttered by guru, leader and saint. To no avail as you seek council from the multitude of teachers and healers.  To no avail as you miss the irony in the very lessons that seemingly fail you.

Go within said the great Masters.  Go within said the simple novice.  Go into the depth of your heart, explore the surface, pass through the chambers... you will see no scars.  Instead, where you would expect faint lines that resemble the mark on your arm, your face, your knee, you will only see perfection.  A flawlessly beating heart tucked safely in the cages that would never let harm befall you.  Search, you can search all you wish, but you will find no trace of the hurt you suffered from the ones you loved, the ones you lost and the ones you wished you never had known.  Those scars do not exist in that place of perfection and if they did, the pain would be long forgotten.  You would be back on the bike if you were a child and that scar were real and it had bled.  Then why, if you seek wisdom from the guru and the teacher, do you not go within as they have all begged you to do.  For if you did, you would not need to trace the memories of foolish falls and unplanned wounds, for there would be no pain in your sacred chambers."

Contemplate this...

Whenever you rely on someone to boost your esteem, you are only giving away your power to love yourself... which ultimately is esteem.

Law of Attraction: Assistance with "Thanks to the Universe I'm all 'F'ed' up" 

On Self Reliance

In the game of life you are always the king on the chessboard.  Even though you are playing with many other pieces and many of them are there to protect and serve you, you must never forget that they are playing a game to survive that is still separate from you.  Most chess games are lost when someone loses focus of the king and works too hard at making sure they don't lose another vitally important piece.  It is no different in life.

Bear in mind that each person should be playing as king of their own game and if they had to focus on their own moves, they would not worry if the bishop or queen were removed... they would know they could make it to the other side by their own skill, tenacity and will to achieve.

Self reliance takes away your need for anything but self realisation, gratification and acceptance.  You would wake up in the morning and get dressed for you and not for the person who might judge what you are wearing.  You would know that your career idea was a great one for you and not for the parent, loved one or guru you have put on a pedestal.  You would know that the person you are intimately connected to has an important role in your life, despite their not feeling the same way about you for their very own reason.  You would never need to ask someone else's opinion again and would most probably have a much better time forgetting to check if everyone else approved, agreed or liked you... for exactly who you are.

Try this for a week...

Take note of how many times you rely on someone else for your level of esteem and how many of your life choices are not necessarily making you the king, but more the pawn in your game of life?  Try to rely on yourself for just one little thing where you would usually need another's approval and lets see what you feel like shall we?  You might just feel like you could change the world!!!!!!!

Our little corner

This month we have made a very special entry into our corner and can't wait for you to experience the wonders of a little French subtitled film called Amelie.  If you have seen it... we would love you to share your thoughts on the forum as we don't think life is quite the same unless Amelie has sprinkled some of her magic into it.

Greg's View on the World

I have spent days trying to fix something. It was causing me physical discomfort and I knew that I was entirely responsible for it. Is it a broken heart? Is it betrayal? Should I be angry and I'm not and so it is festering? The more I agonised for answers the more there were none... but the gentle reminder from the Universe to nurture and love myself.

"But I have to sort this out - it is coming out in my physical body so it must be doing harm!", I called out in frustration.

"The harm is in your approach", came the gentle answer... repeatedly (as I have a knack of ignoring such "ridiculous" responses).

We have often heard that it is about the life journey and that we are to enjoy it and have fun. Sometimes there is never even an obvious destination but that shouldn't matter. Every step along the path is a destination on its own - one that we will never experience again. We will never stand in the same spot again. So why rush it? Stop, look around, and marvel at the beauty of the place you're at. Because you are exactly where you are meant to be. Because you have chosen to be here.

And you are the most special, unique person to walk the face of the earth so the moment's bound to be awesome!

I have stopped trying to work out what was causing me discomfort. The answer will be there soon enough... when I'm ready to receive it!

Manifestation Myths

If you have not yet worked your way through the section of the site that breaks so many myths about this journey of creating the lives you so want to live, then I suggest you go there and begin questioning your beliefs so you can rely on yourself for you ultimate truth.  I have added the newest myth... that of Ego and its misunderstood reputation that literally blocks the healing process. 

If you would like any myths cleared up then please contact us.

Here's to you

Jodene & Greg