Vienna and me

Vienna

For those of you who’ve read all my books you’ll know that Vienna is a recurring theme. Chunks of my novel, Trouble Brewing take place in Vienna. One of the chapters in The Happy Endings Book Club is set there.

I’ve spent a lot of time in Vienna… It’s a city where I’ve faced a lot of my own personal issues, been incredibly happy, and overwhelmingly miserable. It’s a place that has changed shape and form in my eyes so many times. I have hated it. I have loved it. I have certainly been challenged by it.

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I’m in The Australian newspaper

I’m in The Australian newspaper

Did you see us in The Australian last weekend? Here’s the link.

I’m so much happier since I embraced this life of experiences over things, and I’m passionate about sharing that with other families. This piece in The Australian is the first of a articles about me over the next month. I’ll keep sharing as they come out.

 

What I’ve discovered in my 40s

What I’ve discovered in my 40s

And so I’m 46. I celebrated my recent birthday with style, love and incredible acceptance. I finally got the hang of the 40s and my goddess it’s amazing.

For those of you who read this blog here, which I’d originally posted as I turned 40, you’d know how pumped I was. Pumped is the perfect word for it. You’ve all seen those personal development gurus working a room full of devotees and they get them all pumped. You can, you will, you are fabulous. And everyone cheers, and believes the hype and then they all go back to their real lives and realize they’re still miserable. Turning 40 was like that for me.

I was pumped! I’d listened to the hype about turning 40. Being a naturally positive person, I believed it. 40s is the new 30s. You go girl!

What no one warned me about was the fact that I would die a spiritual death in my 40s. That I had to… because that’s the point.

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Let’s be clear about something. The 40s are not the new 30s. In fact, that completely diminishes the powerful lessons the 40s bring with them. We often start our families later so are juggling the same busy parenting schedules as women in their 30s, but that doesn’t make us 30. There are things I experienced in my early 40s that I know are exclusive to women in this age group. I know I’m not alone because it’s a conversation I’ve had countless times with many different women over the past few years. While my own personal journey had been intense, the collective journey of women of this age group fascinates me.

Firstly, there’s no denying it, we’ve hit middle age. I realise “young” is a matter of perception. One of my dearest friends, who I grew up with, picked me up in a convertible and whizzed me off to lunch on my birthday. “Fuck we’re getting old,” he declared.

I didn’t miss a beat. “When we’re 90 we’ll be talking about the day we were really young and you picked me up in this car.”

So I’m not old. But yes I’m getting older. And I’m getting older in a society obsessed with youth.

When I hit 40 the mirror became my enemy. Lines appeared from nowhere. The slow march of age wasn’t a march any more but a fast run in that first year. I could see the changed to skin tone. And I despised it.

My partner and I started a business. Running that, a house with four kids and trying to write novels took its toll. I didn’t have time for my yoga. I put on weight. I hated that too.

But that was just the external stuff. Internally I was in turmoil. I wasn’t happy. Each month I would be slammed with sadness. Crying jags and insecurity. I said to my best friend, “I don’t know if I’m hormonal or just really messed up.”

“Both,” she said. “And I’m the same.”

The first couple of years of my 40s were such an intense energetic shift for me. I felt like I was disappearing. I was invisible.

Around me girlfriends began erasing their age from their faces. But the results frightened me. I felt like we were missing the point of everything by clutching to our youth. I didn’t want to let go of that either, but I also knew there was something waiting for me just beyond the wrinkles. Just beyond the self-judgement and fear. There was something important… I just had to work out how to grasp it.

I just had to let go.

I went on a Vipassana 10-day silent meditation retreat. It was a version of hell for me but so profoundly beneficial. But even there, I struggled to let go. I spent a lot of my free time packing and repacking my bag while my mind screamed at me. I feel like I was unravelling mentally. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. But on the sixth day I woke up and felt something I’ve never felt before.

Peace.

I was in the moment.

Sounds were clearer, colour brighter, everything more vivid. In that moment I understood the concept of annica: impermanence. Everything changes. So having any attachment simply brings misery.

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Naturally, that moment passed, and I was in hell again. But I’d glimpsed something profound. I didn’t just intellectually understand something. I had lived it.

I left that retreat with a tool for life, but I still didn’t know how to truly reach into the guts of my issues.

So as is the case with many women my age… the universe provided the perfect opportunity.

“I’m afraid you’re going blind. We’ll get the Royal Blind Society around to your house to teach you how to move around.”

It was the week of my 43rd birthday that I heard this. Many of you already know this story, and the outcome. I’ve blogged about this in detail here.

Turns out I’d been misdiagnosed, but I had to wait three months to hear that. For those three months I lived with the possibility of losing my sight. It was the first thing I thought about when I woke, the last thing I thought about as I went to sleep. I researched and studied and found amazing people doing incredible things with “sight.”

There were many powerful changes for me during that time. I learnt a lot the mind’s eye and sight and light. I certainly learnt about control. I had a complete overhaul in how I perceived myself and the world around me. What is happiness but just a shift in perception?

It’s not getting what you want, or getting rid of what you don’t want, but seeing things differently, as they are right now.

It’s about changing the way you see your world.

The threat of going blind also changed the way I viewed myself when I looked in the mirror. My foe became my friend. I realised I really wanted to see myself age. That realisation was a gift. By the time I turned 45, I was here.

I no longer criticize what I see in the mirror now. I simply don’t. I’m grateful. I don’t give a shit about my lines. I’m happy to see them. I believe one of the most rebellious things a woman can do is grow old gracefully and naturally.

By my mid-forties, things were unfolding for me internally. I was practising what I’ve now developed into my Travel Light Self Development Program. I wrote my novel The Happy Endings Book Club, which is a book about how seven women find happiness through discovering how to have a shift in perception.

What does it mean to see?

I turned 46 last week and I realised I see myself more clearly than I ever have before. There is an inner calm and acceptance that I feel and I’m proud of.

My friendships and relationships are deeper. My partner and I are stronger than ever. I find more joy in my kids. Sex is freaking awesome (oh yeah, come on, it totally gets better with age!)

And I really care about myself. And I use the word “care” rather than love. It’s important to take care of yourself.

I’ve stilled my mind with meditation, strengthened my body with yoga, and balanced my hormones through completely eliminating sugar from my diet, and with the help of a Chiropractor and natural bio-identical progesterone (a miracle in a jar).

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And beyond all that, in a deeper Space, I’ve found a powerful new version of myself that wasn’t there in my thirties. Couldn’t possibly be there in my thirties. Because you have to be consumed first by your forties, and the loss of your youthful self before you can even fathom who you’ll become next.

Women in their 40s experience a spiritual death that they must face. If they don’t, they’re doing their 40s all wrong. I’m not done with it yet, but I’m happy to be here embracing instead of battling this decade of my life.

It makes me wonder what excitement the 50s will bring.

 

 

VINTAGE BLOG: Thanks thirties… and goodbye!

VINTAGE BLOG: Thanks thirties… and goodbye!

I’ve just cracked an old blog of mine and am saving some of my favourite blog posts. It’s a bittersweet experience… many of these blogs were written in the lead-up to when I turned 40. Tomorrow is my birthday and I turn 46. My sons who I write about below are now 16 and nearly 11. Time flies.

I’ve learnt a lot in the past 6 years, which I’ll share in a post tomorrow. But today, here are some vintage blogs that give an insight to how I felt about turning 40.

 

My thirties began:

Holding my newborn son, Buster… He was two weeks old, yet his stare was ancient. He seemed to say, “Not how you expected to celebrate thirty, aye!”

Buster turned ten two weeks ago.

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This pixie-like boy defined my thirties. He is my mirror, my teacher, my greatest worry, an infinite love, my sidekick. I often look at him and wonder how something so magnificent came from me.

Together we navigated my early thirties:

Five years of wandering through airports together, hands held tight. New countries, new adventures. Trudging through snow in New York to get him to school, running through forests in Europe, blessings in Japan. Our flat in Sydney, our beach house near Byron Bay, him in a kiddie seat on the back of my bike. The curve of his neck, the shape of his bottom, the freckle on his lip, the secret signals we have that silently declare our love to each other, our songs… He introduced me to Demeter within. Sometimes I struggle with her, usually I embrace her… occasionally I resent her deeply.

There were tours and plays, Buster sitting at the sidelines, his little legs swinging. I miss the theatre, the smell, the camaraderie, the late nights, the highs. Theatre was my first love. We broke up a few years ago. We’ll get back together soon.

I was halfway through my thirties when…

Vesuvius entered my life with a roar. Oh how I worship this child with his free spirit and curly mop, his fearsome temper and eccentric outlook. While Buster has lived a million times before and carries the weight of those lives around with him, Vesuvius is new here… He has no shackles, no cares… no real empathy for the human condition because for him it’s just a game. He is the most outrageous creature. I watch him and I’m in awe at his complete lust for life.

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Twelve years of wandering the world came to a standstill when he was born. I returned home to live, although it took some time to call it home. I was more relaxed, less obsessed, willing to embrace free-range parenting, often through sheer selfishness, but mostly because it’s what he needs.

I spent all of my thirties writing. Obsessively.

Four years of my thirties were spent breastfeeding. 2 x 2.

Two years were spent as a stranger in my own country… wondering where I’d go next… and then:

I fell in love… with Sydney.

I separated from my husband, and discovered that he is the greatest man I’ve ever met. He treats me like gold, which teaches our sons to do the same. The bar is high for future lovers. So far, no one has come close.

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My friendships have become more significant, more profound, more necessary. I love my motley crew of friends deeply… My family means more to me than ever. My family has expanded in the most unique ways. Finn was born… what a journey for us all, this child not of my blood, but of my soul.

My plays, awards, children’s books, published pieces, it all started to happen. Every spare second I had… I wrote. My first novel was published… finally!!!! I give gratitude for my amazing managers in LA, who encouraged and guided me.

I am healthy. I am happy. It’s rare that I’m not. I’m positive, hopeful and grateful. I’m relentless in my quest for me. Focussed on my inner journey. I make no apologies for who I am. What other people think of me is not my business. I refuse to be chained, caged or suppressed by society or individuals… or myself. I embrace my wildness. I give free reign to my personal power. I am in an excellent place.

Thanks to my thirties.

I am now ready for my forties, and all the wonder the decade will hold.

What has this decade held so far? Stay tuned for tomorrow’s blog.

Welcome to Travel Light 2015

Welcome to Travel Light 2015

I’ve given you a few days to relax, get over the holidays, and think about what you want from this year. 2015 is going to be big. It’s a number 8 year in numerology. What does an 8 mean? Money, power and karma… It can be intense. But the number 8 is also about BALANCE. The very shape of the number 8 symbolises balance. When in balance, the 8 is upright, well-rounded, flowing… And so in an 8-year, we aim for balance. We must. We use the energy of 2015 to help us grow, heal and find balance.

How do we do that?

Starting tomorrow, I will be setting a series of challenges for you. Each one creates serious and positive change.

This year you will:

  • Break old habits
  • Create new, healthier habits
  • Forge new neural pathways in your brain for serious change
  • Transform your body, mind and spirit
  • Ditch baggage that has been weighing you down for years

And best of all… it’s not difficult to do. All you need is the desire for serious change.

I can’t wait to take this journey with you. I’ll see you back here tomorrow. Let the adventure begin.

Travel Light 2015

Travel Light 2015

This year, let’s travel together: let’s explore our inner geography, get rid of our baggage and learn how to travel light.

My novels are categorised as romance, but they’re more than that. They’re a way of me sharing my love of two things with you… travel and metaphysics.

THE HAPPY ENDINGS BOOK CLUB is not just a romance novel. It’s also a story of self-development and spirit. It’s an entertaining look at different ways we can change our perception and therefore our lives. Each character changes how they see the world.

This year I’d like to take that journey with you.

I’ve been on a voyage of personal development for over two decades. I’ve been a Reiki Master for eighteen years, and studied a number of paths such as astrology, energy and aura therapy, and Vipassana meditation. I’ve lived all over the world and worked with various masters and teachers. Along the way I’ve realised that there is no such thing as a destination. Only the journey exists.

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This year, let’s take an extraordinary trip together, here on social media. I’m going to challenge you to let go of some of the baggage that is dragging you down. It’s a program that is simple, but will create profound changes.

Oh did I mention it’s free?

What have you got to lose? BAGGAGE! But in 2015 the words “lost baggage” won’t have you calling the airline… Instead you’ll feel clear, focussed and free. You’ll TRAVEL LIGHT.

It’s the only way to travel.

Follow this blog, or my Facebook Page. Comment freely. Join in and let me know what you’re experiencing along the way.

Who’s coming travelling with me?

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How to see a ghost 101

How to see a ghost 101

Have you ever been somewhere and everyone was talking about the time they saw a ghost? Were you left feeling haunted by your lack of experience in this matter? Here are five sure-fire ways to get a ghostly experience under your belt, so you are never left out again.

  1. Hang out where ghosts hang out. Visit haunted houses. Stay in old hotels. Ghosts tend to linger where they die so although graveyards are scary, you won’t run into many ghosts there. You’re better of walking around a hospital at night.
  2. Don’t sleep for three days. Exhaustions breaks down your psychic barriers and you’ll be more susceptible to psychic occurrence. I make sure I get enough sleep or I start seeing everyone’s auras and it’s disconcerting. Reminds me of the time my drink was spiked at a party—not pleasant.
  3. Don’t just expect to see a ghost. You might hear or sense a ghost instead. Ghostly visitations often occur via electrical devices going haywire, or things being moved from where you thought you put them. Often you’ll dismiss a message from spirit and put it down to exhaustion, especially if you’ve been practising #2.
  4. Have you ever heard a voice that seems to come from inside your head and sounds like a chipmunk? Yep, that’s Spirit. Spirit won’t speak in full sentences, but you might hear your name or some random words being barked out.
  5. To see a ghost, it helps if you believe in them. Although I have heard of a number of sceptics who have seen a ghost, it’s rare. Most non-believers will experience a ghostly visitor but put it down to exhaustion.

Usually, ghosts will appear when you least expect, whether you believe in them or not. As unnerving as the experience can be, I’ve never met a ghost who was actually scary.

 

For those of you who would prefer to meet their ghosts in the pages of a book, check out my novel Hamlet’s Ghost.

Good luck with the ghost hunting.

Out of all your memories… which one would you save?

Out of all your memories… which one would you save?

 

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We’ve all been asked this question before: what one thing would you save from a burning house? What ‘thing” do you value most? I’ve never heard anyone say, “My new flatscreen TV.” Or “My Thermomix.” Most people I know say photo albums.

Photo albums seem to be the most valuable thing to most people I know. But a photo album is a possession that sits in that grey zone… it’s not so much an object as a remembrance. A photo album is a thing that triggers a memory—and it’s the memory we value most.

So what if your house was on fire… and you had to rescue a memory? All other memories would be at risk… but this one would be safe.

What memory would you choose?

 

Becoming invisible as we age

Becoming invisible as we age

Just woke up and I'm 45!
Just woke up and I’m 45!

This blog was first posted on andrea-loveis. Drop by and check this lovely site out.

I’m not sure when I started disappearing. One minute I was clearly visible, with the confidence of a woman who knows that. The next… something had shifted. I felt invisible. More than that… I quickly expected that others wouldn’t see me either.

They didn’t. Heads failed to turn. I was often overlooked in a queue. But it was more than that. Suddenly my quirky collection of vintage clothing seemed ridiculous. I would enter certain restaurants or bars and feel like a dinosaur. Women around me were getting work on their face. For some it is subtle, but others look ridiculous. Surely that isn’t the alternative to my wrinkles?

It was an internal shift as well, not just physical. At a point in my life when I really knew myself, I wasn’t sure what to do with that hard earned wisdom. It wasn’t valued. Youth is celebrated, embraced, feted. Women my age often feel … invisible.

Welcome to womanhood in the forties. Not everyone feels invisible, but many do. I know. I’ve discussed this with countless women: friends, acquaintances, and strangers at parties. It’s something I experienced myself, with mounting dismay, until earlier this year I was handed a gift:

I was told I was going blind.

Fortunately for me, I was misdiagnosed. My eyesight is fine, however it took three months and further tests to confirm this. During these three months something interesting happened to me. For the first time in forever… I looked in the mirror and didn’t criticize myself. I looked at my body and I liked what I saw. The possibility of losing my sight provided me with greater insight.

The idea that I wouldn’t see myself age horrified me. And if that was so … then why would each new wrinkle be anything but a celebration.

If I want to see myself age… then why erase that age? Why try to beat it, deny it or ignore it? Why not fully and utterly embrace it? As I write in my novel, The Happy Endings Book Club, we should welcome ageing. It’s a privilege denied to many.

The way we see ourselves and the world around us is a major theme I explore in The Happy Endings Book Club. All of the seven female characters experience a shift in perception that alters their world. That shift is different for each character.

Paige misses glimpsing the magic in the world. Sadie doesn’t see the beauty inside people. Amanda wonders what she ever saw in her ex husband. Michi can’t bear looking at her family, while Clementine is blind to what’s right in front of her. And Eva looks for romance in all the wrong places.

But it’s Tilda I related to most. She literally can’t see herself. And once you’ve lost sight of yourself, how can you expect others to see you?

I’m visible again. It took the threat of losing my sight for me to see myself clearly. I like what I see now.