Amazing grace. I want it

For most of my life I have longed to be graceful. I wished I could glide into a room emanating such allure that every man would stop what he was doing to admire me. To dress impeccably and with such class I could have just stepped off a billboard. To hold myself with such poise that there would be no need for me to even speak.

I possess none of these attributes. My sense of style is less about style and more about whatever items I can rustle up that don’t make me look like I’m in the middle of a reality TV home renovation. My inability to match garments is renowned. Instead of sitting neatly in place, my hair behaves like your wild teenage daughter – i.e. it’s never where it’s supposed to be. And despite being blessed with long, slender legs I am unable to wear heels that would gift me the feminine appeal I long for. In heels, I have all the finesse of a newborn foal stepping on butter. In my beloved ballet flats I have good control but the refinement of a truck driver.

What I have realised, though, is that no matter how unruly my appearance and disposition, I can live in a state of grace – although not in the way the majority of people define the word.

Last Christmas I wrote a post about grace as associated with redemption, and my definition of the word has broadened further since. Our society loves to hold up Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's as the epitome of grace and elegance. Yet that role – as a character who displayed precious little regard for other people’s feelings – is far removed from what made this celebrated actress truly graceful. It’s true that she was mesmerisingly beautiful, but her grace had nothing to do with her face or her wardrobe, and everything to do with her heart. 

Audrey worked tirelessly as a UNICEF ambassador, fulfilling the call she felt from within to bring hope and

worldwide attention to the plight of starving children in countries such as Ethiopia – a humanitarian mission I admit I didn’t know about until I read about it on social media. Rather than focusing on looking fair, she implored the world to BE fair… in the way it distributes its resources and opportunities.

This, to me, is grace. No longer do I aspire to be chic or elegant (that’s probably for the best, all considered), but there’s opportunity for me to build towards a state of grace in my thoughts, attitudes and behaviour. Certainly I’ll never reach Audrey’s levels but that doesn’t mean I can’t maximise opportunities to show and feel grace in my everyday life. Grace is gently leaning forward when I want to retreat. Grace is showing kindness to myself and to others even when I don’t feel like it. Grace is finding peace in my heart amid a cacophony of criticism, fear and drama. Grace is gently reminding myself on my bad days that tomorrow is another day and it will be better.

That’s my understanding of grace – and it truly is amazing.

Stand up for what you think is right - but speak with love

I’ve spent most of my life running from confrontation, so I can understand how yesterday’s angel card – which urged us to stand up for what we believe – might have been a little difficult for some of you to digest. The reason many of us struggle with assertiveness is because we don’t want to cause friction or upset other people. We’d rather suffer than put ourselves in a situation where we might spark a conflict. This is doing ourselves an enormous disservice, and robbing the other person of a cue to reflect on their actions. And that’s a shame because we are all here to help each other lead better lives – but, ideally, without judgement and without infringing on others’ right to choose their own direction.

It’s important to know that you’re not being mean to someone if you say something that is contrary to their opinion or behaviour. If they are doing something you consider unfair, immoral or which causes pain and difficulty to another person (including yourself), you’ll feel a pull to speak up from within. What’s important is that your intentions are good – ie you speak from the heart – and that you frame it in a way that isn’t a personal attack. If someone cuts in front of you in a queue, for example, you’re not being a troublemaker if you point out that they’ve cut in, and that you were there first. Regardless of the outcome, at least you said something – sometimes people will take the piss because they’re willing to wager that no one will call them out on it. Being assertive is not the same as being aggressive. If you call someone a nasty name and shout at them for their rudeness, that’s probably not going to go well. 

Speak your truth - with love

I’m not saying there aren’t sometimes consequences to speaking out – and of course you should take that into consideration – but if your intuition is telling you to speak up, you’re urged to honour that. 

The history books are bursting with examples of people who’ve spoken up despite the risk of adverse effects – whistleblowers, civil rights campaigners, agents for change. But it’s not only big social issues that call us to speak our truth, it’s everyday interactions.

About eight years ago, my best friend at the time, who was living overseas, made the very difficult decision to break up with her boyfriend and move back home. Because it was going to be so challenging living with him while she went through the process of packing up, leaving work and severing ties with the city, she decided not to tell him she was leaving until just before her departure date, about three months down the track. I can certainly understand her desire to delay that inevitable crushing moment, but I felt that in not telling him their relationship was already over she was deceiving him. I felt – and this is only my opinion, of course – that she was being unfair. In buying “peace” for herself she was maximising the pain for him later on, when he realised he’d been kept in the dark and misled as to their future together. I told her all of that... and I think you can guess how well it went.

She went ballistic at me and told me that as her friend, my job was to support her. I believed then – and I still believe – my role as her friend is to challenge her on significant choices that reflect poorly on her. Of course I was far too upset to explain that at the time. Instead of reflecting again on whether her decision was right – which she probably, deep down, knew would bring her face to face with something she did not want to face – she chose to focus on being outraged at me. A personal attack ensued, and we did not speak for about three months, which made us both miserable and put a lot of strain on our mutual friends. I should point out that this is only my side of the story, and I’m sure she has her own perspective on the incident. I should also point out that the way I expressed my thoughts was embarrassingly sanctimonious and laden with judgement, so I can hardly blame her for firing up. (Cringe.)

Do I regret my decision to speak up? No, although I’m not proud of the way I expressed myself. For me, it was important. One of my core values is treating other people fairly. It’s not up to me to tell other people how to behave but in a situation where I feel a deep unjustice is being done, I would like to think I will always use my words (carefully) to bring another perspective to light so others will pause and question their actions. What they do after that is up to them – and if they’re a friend of mine, my job then is to accept that and look for ways to support them.

If you feel deeply uncomfortable about someone’s actions and they ask you for your opinion – or worse, ask you to be party to it – what will you do? Doing the right thing is an incredibly complicated – and often, risky – act but it’s one that your angels ask you to honour as much as you can.

It’s certainly something to think about.

I’ve got the power – and so do you. Time to stop playing the victim, and use it

If you’re ready to make changes in your life – and since you’re reading this blog, I’m assuming that you are – this is the time to do it. With a full moon tonight in Capricorn – that’s the ultra-ambitious, success-driven sign of the zodiac (shoutout to all the Cappys!) – the energy is right for using your power to create something amazing.

Unfortunately, power has a serious PR problem. We think that it corrupts, dominates and breeds exploitation. In other words, we regard it as a negative entity to be avoided. But in a spiritual sense, power is actually a positive force because it’s what we draw on to make our dreams come true and propel ourselves forward – and for that reason, it’s intrinsically connected to love. It’s only when it’s used out of fear – for example, by world leaders who are so motivated by fear of being inadequate that they fixate on controlling other people – that power gets a bad name.

At many points in my life I have rendered myself powerless. In my early 20s I blamed my flatmates for cooking badly, which gave me an excuse to be overweight. I blamed the economy for my poor cashflow, which gave me an excuse not to manage my funds better. I blamed my industry for being too competitive, which gave me an excuse not to pitch for work I wanted (thereby risking failure). I blamed my city for being too boring, which gave me an excuse not to work harder at overcoming my shyness barrier and extending my social circle (thereby risking rejection). Oh, poor me!

When you’ve cast yourself as the victim, as I had, you are giving away your power. You are blaming other people – your lazy partner, your inept boss, your unforgiving father, whoever it is – for the state of your life. If your problems are someone else’s fault, that (conveniently) means you don’t have to take responsibility for your choices. You have licence to test the patience of your friends by whingeing and complaining all the live long day. Poor you.

It took a very long time for me to accept that nothing was going to change until I did. The point of power was in my decision to adjust the way I had framed these situations in my mind. Even if you can’t change your situation, you can always change the way you think about it. Taking control of your thoughts, and not resenting others for the landscape of your life, is the first step in taking back your power. And that gives rise to action.

If your life isn’t playing out how you’d like it to, ask yourself honestly if you have been blaming someone else for that. Other people may well be involved, complicit and even influential, but ultimately you hold all the cards. You have the power to change the situation and yield a better result – for everyone. To borrow a cliché, the best time to do that is yesterday, and the second best time is today. With 2015 being a ‘number eight year’ (read more here) and the full moon beaming out in Capricorn, this is a – ahem – powerful time to be alive. We have the power to create a shiny new reality for ourselves and others around us. Things that may not have seemed possible in previous years are no longer closed off. Who would have thought the US would finally legalise same-sex marriage?! This proves that wonderful things are possible when you act from a place of love. And despite its image problem, power is all about love. When you truly know how much value you hold, you know that you deserve to have your dreams come true, and you’ll feel inspired to utilise the power available to you to make that happen.  

The onus is on you, right now, to take back your own power and use it to get what you want (what you want, what you really really want). Be bold. Be creative. Be your own hero. The Universe responds to thoughts, prayers and affirmations, but it bends most favourably in your direction when you take action. Go do that.

Confession: I struggle to know what to do when I see homeless people. Can you relate?

Two nights ago I was coming home from a group meditation and I experienced something that almost made me come undone. It was 10pm on a bitterly cold winter's night, teeming with rain, and there was a homeless man on his knees proffering a paper cup to the thighs of dallying drunks and harried corporates rushing by for shelter. I crossed the road to give him $5 and, in a soft, gentle voice completely incongruous with someone who is living a hard life, he thanked me and said he hoped I got home safely. I have never felt more guilty for having a home to go to. I had to turn away because my eyes were leaking for reasons that had nothing to do with the rain.   

There are so many homeless people around Sydney – particularly noticeable at this time of year, when it’s so cold – and sometimes walking to work in the city past so many people hiding under tattered blankets is to run an emotional gauntlet. I do give money to a few of them on a regular basis, but there are so many that I have to limit it to only two people, and I have to admit I do find myself subsiding into a state of compassion fatigue.

Basically, I become so used to seeing people in these wretched conditions that it has become normal to me. Which means I do nothing to help, despite my life of extraordinary privilege. Note to self: there is nothing normal about this level of human suffering. 

I know people who refuse to give money to homeless people on the assumption that they will only spend the money on ice (that’s the drug Americans know as meth, and New Zealanders know as P). I have always thought that it’s not my place to judge someone for what they do with their money, and frankly, if someone is on a street corner dressed in rags and reeking of urine, they need my gold coins far, far more than I do. There’s nothing I can do with that meagre amount of money that will hold as much value to me as it will for someone living in the depths of despair, whose entire existence depends on the kindness of strangers. That said, I have no judgement towards people who opt not to give their money to homeless people. Your money is your own, and you’re certainly not obliged to give it to anyone.

I think I harden my heart against the homeless sometimes out of a fear that it will upset me (for good reason). For that reason, my response typically goes one of two ways: I’ll hurry by and distract myself so I don’t look (which makes me feel guilty). Or I’ll give money but practically throw it at them, speeding off before I can hear them speak to me. I know logically that I can only give so much (although I could certainly do with giving more than I have been) and I can’t help everyone, so my guilt is misguided – not to mention unhelpful. I also know that, in truth, kindness isn’t really kindness if I’m giving begrudgingly or defensively. It would probably be more valuable to actually have a conversation with homeless people, ask them questions and listen to their opinions, to remind them that they matter (we all need to be reminded of that, actually), and perhaps bring them a sandwich, a banana and a newspaper. This is one solution I’m considering.

It’s pretty clear by my increasing discomfort levels that I need to change my approach to this morally complex situation, and I don’t think money is the answer.

The ‘how’ is probably less important than the ‘why’. And the ‘why’ is because compassion is one of my fundamental beliefs. Mother Teresa knew a thing or two about kindness so I’ll throw to her now: “I prefer you to make mistakes in kindness than work miracles in unkindness.”

Quite.

Believing in the happy ending when you're halfway through the scary book

When you Google the word ‘trust’, the fourth thing that comes up (behind ‘trust deeds’, ‘trust definition’and ‘trust tax return’) is ‘trust issues’. Oh Google, you know me so well. 

I’m one of those people who flips to the last page of a book when the drama gets intense, and Googles the plot summary of a movie if it gets too nail-bitey. You’d think that would reassure me. But, no. Even when I know the story’s going to end brilliantly, I still skim-read/skip through the uncomfortable parts. It’s as if I can’t quite believe that everything really is going to work out.

Despite years of reading metaphysical texts, communicating with angels and now working with energy, trusting the Universe to sort out my problems remains a major stumbling block for me. On the surface, this makes no sense – I’ve already seen proof that the Universe has my back, again and again and again. But even though I believe a perfect outcome is possible, there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe that it’s probable. 

Whenever I find myself on my knees in particularly difficult periods, the message I get from the angels, again and again and again, is along these lines: ‘Trust us. Let go. It’s going to be fine.’ I believe them, but I’m also doubtful. Which is normal. It’s not possible, I don’t think, to have a learning experience or challenge that isn’t accompanied by at least a small degree of fear. The trick is learning to let go of the fear so it doesn’t hold you back from living a big life. All I have to do is have faith and relinquish control over the outcome… if only it were that easy!

Here’s the problem – when I worry, fret and despair, I’m getting in my own way. My negative energy increases, blocking solutions and contributing to an adverse result.

There’s a quote that gets bashed about on social media all the time and it goes like this: ‘Everything will be OK in the end. If it’s not OK, it’s not the end.’ This is posted endlessly because it’s true – even though things may not work out exactly how you had imagined, they’ve worked out the way they were supposed to. And often that’s better than you had imagined, or there’s something better coming up. In either outcome, you will be OK. You are always OK. (I’m saying this to you guys, but I’m sure you realise I’m really saying it to myself.)

I dealt out the ‘trust’ card in an angel card reading the other day and I was told that that message was for me as well as the person I was reading for. That message was: trust it is all going to be OK.

And it will. I’ve already been told my business is going to thrive. I’ve already been told I’m going to meet the perfect man for me. Therefore, there’s nothing to worry about, right? Right? RIGHT?!

Everything is under control. Not my control, but that’s probably for the best. (It’s fair to say the Universe does a better job of running my life than I do.)

And then they all lived happily ever after.