Tag Archives: writing

Heeding Your Own Advice

I was telling someone close to me what that woman had said to me last weekend. In a nutshell, it was about finding it hard to practice what I preach. How I know it all in theory but do I really feel it in my heart? That I should lead by example. And other inspiring yet hard-to-hear clichés.

My friend commented that, about a year ago, when I used to approach her with things I was struggling with, she was incredulous. “But you’ve got all the answers in your most recent blog post,” she’d exclaim. She observed that I have since put all of those things into practice and that I now have new challenges to contend with.

I remember someone informing me that, often, the problems your clients will present you with are the issues you need to look at most yourself. The Positive Living group I taught last night included many tips that would help me immensely. One activity I gave the class was to write a letter to your 15-year-old self. I got the idea from this blog post. Afterwards, one of my students remarked: “I just read over my letter and it’s all advice that would help me now.” I quickly scanned my own letter. She was right. Another class member mused: “I found it sort of sad. I wish I’d had someone to tell me this stuff when I actually was a teen.” “But you have someone now,” I replied. “Do I?” she wondered, confused. “Who wrote your letter?” I asked. “Oh yeah,” she smiled.

This morning, I contacted a friend in need. “Thanks Sharon, that’s the best advice I’ve heard in a while,” the person responded. I reread my text. Yet again, the message of my message could be directed right at me.

If you followed your own advice, you’d be doing well. Because you have all the answers within you. You don’t need to look outside yourself in order to know what to do. Only you can decide what’s best for you. Because you are you.

The classes I teach, the blogs I write and the advice I give helps me first and foremost. Luckily, it also benefits others. I teach what I need to learn. That’s probably why I’m drawn to the subject matter in the first place. At least I am learning. Sometimes slowly, usually surely. One life lesson at a time.

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The Liebster Award!

A big thank you to Lisa from Random Encounters of an Inquisitive Mind for the Liebster Award! I remember seeing this award a year or two ago and thinking how deadly it’d be to have someone praise your blog with a super cool award like this. I must have attracted it my way with all my positive thinking 😛

So, here’s what I have to do…

The rules:

1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award Presenter on your blog and link back to their blog.

2. Answer the 11 questions from the nominator, list 11 random facts about yourself and create 11 questions for your nominees.

3. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 11 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog to let them know they’ve been chosen.

4. Copy and Paste the blog award on your blog.

 11 Random Facts about me

  1. I prefer to sleep with the curtains open.
  2. I usually have a few books on the go at the same time.
  3. I don’t have television channels in my home.
  4. I start my mornings by giving gratitude and spending about five minutes in silence.
  5. I love the ocean, sunshine, cupcakes and belly laughs.
  6. I teach a Positive Living group once a week.
  7. I started this blog because I was feeling depressed over a man and I got the idea after watching Julie & Julia.
  8. I still have my blankie (which was once my grandma’s house coat).
  9. I’m half-Greek, half-Irish, and three-quarters mad.
  10. I was reading before I started school and I wanted to write so badly that I used to fill copy books with squiggles.
  11. For years, I had my little brother believe that his dolls and teddy bears could talk. They each had their own personalities. His favourites were two Glo Worms called Scrumptious and Snuggles. They were really bold.

My questions to answer:

  • Why did you start blogging?  Oops, I already answered this in Random Fact number seven.
  • Would you consider yourself a writer?  Yes. It’s been a part of me since before I could actually write. Check out my blog on this: Being a writer (and being the only one who knows it)
  • If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? A lot of what I’m doing now (writing, teaching, alternative health) but getting loadsa cash for it 😉
  • What type of music do you like?  Anything that makes me feel the musician’s passion.
  • Do you believe in love at first sight?  It’s probably more often lust-at-first-sight but yeah, it can happen.
  • Who do you love, and why?  Ooh Lisa, I’ll have no secrets left! I love my family and friends and the people in The Lifeflow Centre.
  • What is your most favourite thing to do?  I’m not kidding when I say writing but also being in nature and having a bit of craic with friends (just to clarify, I’m Irish not a drug addict).
  • What morals do you live your life by?   Be present, enjoy life, do your best, share with others your joy and/or whatever will help them.
  • Whats your favourite movie?  The most recent one I fell in love with was Untouchable.
  • What is your favourite quote?  “If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” ~ Wayne Dyer

Questions for my nominees:

  1. What makes you laugh?
  2. What are you passionate about?
  3. Why did you start this blog?
  4. Who inspires you?
  5. Where’s your favourite place in the world?
  6. What’s the best book you’ve read recently?
  7. What good TV series would you recommend? (Okay, I’m being selfish now.)
  8. What’s one of your favourite words?
  9. Tell me something about one of your firsts (first kiss, first time you fell in love, first holiday…)
  10. Tell me a joke.
  11. What are you going to do with your award?

And now *drum roll please*, the Liebster Award goes to…

Okay, two things: some of the above may well have more than 200 followers but because I am a follower, I can’t seem to find how many others there are… And I really need to start checking out more new blogs. I’ll put that down as a goal for March.

Thanks for reading, thanks for following, and thanks again to Lisa! You’ve just rocked my Friday night!

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Giving Change

I recently received an email from an old friend, who’s living abroad. She was writing to tell me that my blog has really inspired her to stop and look at life and has made her realise how lucky she is. She continued:

“Today, I was rushing to get to the shops before they closed when I saw a man, alone in the snow. He was shaking. I was a bit apprehensive but I thought: ‘I can’t leave him. It’s minus 10 and instinct tells me he needs help.’ So, I stopped. It turns out he had Parkinson’s and had hurt his arm. I phoned for a taxi and paid the driver to bring him to the hospital. The look of relief in the old man’s eyes when he sat in and shook my hand was heart breaking. I really think reading your words has changed my way of thinking. I’ve always had a lot of empathy but it takes courage to do something about a situation that’s a bit intimidating. Thanks, Sharon.”

This story brought tears to my eyes. Only days previously, another woman had told me I should stop publishing my work on the internet because I’m not getting paid for it, and on top of that, somebody could steal it. But this unexpected email reminded me why I’m doing what I’m doing.

Not everything we do has to result in monetary, or even personal, gain. Occasionally, people surprise us by giving, without looking for anything in return. The other day, I stepped onto a busy Luas (Dublin tram) when I felt a tap on the shoulder. I looked around at a dishevelled young man, who carried a sleeping bag under his arm. He said:

“Sorry, luv. I just wanted to let you know that your bag’s open. Be careful ‘coz someone could snatch your purse.”

I thanked him and zipped up my handbag. We then chatted about his life as a homeless person. He spoke about how he tries to rustle up enough money each day to stay in a hostel. Otherwise, he sleeps on the streets. I waited for him to ask me for some change (of which I had none – I’d given my last few coins as a tip to a waitress) but at the next stop, he simply said, “See ya luv” and was gone. “Take care!”, I called after him, feeling helpless yet totally moved. Yesterday, it snowed. I hope he’s okay.

Speaking of looking for change, check out this inspiring short film… 

‘Tis the season of giving presents to our loved ones but how about, this Christmas, giving or doing something special for somebody who really needs it?

Who knew a blocked nose would make me so prolific?

So, you may have noticed that I’ve been writing a lot lately. And it’s all down to an irritatingly lengthy episode of El Influenza. I’m like a crazy old lady, rocking back and forth in her asylum armchair, dropping tatty hankies and incoherent references to Don Juan and the surrealist movement. Bless, her mind is still active, though edging ever closer to the perilous terrain of dementia…

Tomasz Setowski

Frustrating, when I can barely muster up the energy to prop myself against a quartet of pillows and engage in the most minimal of finger movements. Thank the Andy-Osborne for laptops! Luckily, there’s more coming out of me than snot and sneezes (poetic, right?) I think, therefore I write.

I haven’t left the house in days but I see inspiration everywhere (The delirium’s set in. Hard.) A mere sentence on a page could set me off. A movie character. The theme tune of a crappy television programme. Something someone says/does/wears. Gazing out at the sky, the weather, the strangers silently moving behind their windows… Lying in bed, dwelling upon memories and imaginations, unable to sleep because I’m too bunged-up and yucky-boned (Of course it’s a valid medical description – try not to upset her.)

I will not complain… but do you know how annoying it is to switch on your light at 3 am to jot down a few lines just so you can get them out of your head, only to have to turn it on again a few minutes later because you had a flash of something else “brilliant”, then to plunge yourself into darkness, begging your mind to stop? For the love of the Land of Nod, please stop! And finally, to surrender to writing the damn thing already, cursing and celebrating, in equal measure, what can only be described as creative insanity.

She lies back, relieved and light-headed after her latest purge.                             Nurse! Get that poor dear a sedative!

Images; http://www.cn-printing.com/6-tips-for-your-writing-journal.html; http://accessdenied-livingwithms.blogspot.com/2011/01/wiped-out-today.html; http://favim.com/image/4371/; http://favim.com/image/6915/

From black and white to technicolour

Good fucken fuqballs, I’m writing at 5am again! I blame Jeannette Walls’ gripping account of her exciting, albeit difficult, childhood in The Glass Castle. Only moments earlier, I had to hold the book away for a good five minutes as I sobbed.

Walls’ honest depiction of life as the resilient daughter of an irresponsible but irresistible drunkard, and a refreshingly free-spirited but inexcusably selfish artist, is as heart-warming as it is heart-breaking.

This captivating memoir teaches us that we mustn’t view things, or people, in black and white. Jeannette paints her unique story, mixing muted shades of sepia and charcoal with delightful streaks of vibrant colour.

Everybody is doing the best they can with what they’ve got. We are all simply trying to survive. Even the most despicable of villains have another (better, softer, more vulnerable) side. Lord Voldemort lived a loveless childhood and suffered a pathological fear of death. The Joker was grieving the loss of his wife and unborn child. In 102 Dalmations, Cruella de Vil dedicates her life to saving animals. And Simon Cowell still goes to bed with his blankie. (Poetic license here, folks. Work with me.)

So, the next time you want to curse (or plot the untimely demise of) your unreasonable boss or critical co-worker, take a deep breath. Recognise that they wouldn’t be behaving this way if they were content with their lot.

On his days off, that bad-tempered librarian volunteers to help children with special needs. The self-centred ladies’ man cries himself to sleep each night. The rude motorist who cut in front of you this morning was preoccupied with meeting his new-born son for the first time. The irritable shop keeper doesn’t hate you. She hates her job. Or her husband. Or herself. The town drunk you cross the road to avoid tried to clean himself up several times before he lost his wife, his kids, and his battle with this unrelenting illness.

Insert gratuitous Leo pic here.

I’m not advocating that you accept bad behaviour. I just want to promote compassion and understanding. Everyone has their story, their baggage, their reasons. Everybody longs for happiness. For love. Everyone breathes the same breath of life and dreams of a better future.

Somewhere between the stormy blacks and calm whites of judgement and acceptance appears an uncontrollable rainbow of regret and determination, sorrow and hope, anger and forgiveness. Because that is what it is to be human.

Images: http://www.thew2o.net/; http://favim.com/image/125933/;

http://kairaa.tumblr.com/

Pass the passion, please.

We all have something that causes the passion to bubble up within us. Be it writing or photography, health or healing, art or literature, dance or travel, nature or sport, film or fashion, justice or love.

When someone takes that passion and uses it for the higher good, it can be translated into something beautiful. And if it fills just one heart with joy; if it resonates with at least one other human being and makes them feel that they are not alone; if it helps even one person live a better life, then that is a passion worth sharing.

“There is no passion to be found playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” Nelson Mandela

If you have something that awakens some little bit of a sparkle within you, don’t be afraid to blow on its embers. Set the world alight with your passion. Not only will you be doing a service to all those who witness what you have to offer, but it will make you feel alive.

Images: http://ellenzee.tumblr.com/post/13470021301http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=182031355225303&set=a.152032604891845.34642.152012388227200&type=1&permPage=1;; http://barfotabarn.blogg.se/

Tracing memories…

A few weeks ago, my aunt gave me her unused copy of Cheryl Richardson’s Turning Inward, a lovely journal of self-discovery. I’m loving this unexpected hand-me-down as it’s forced me to really reflect upon what’s important in my life, what I fear most, and what’s blocking me from unleashing my potential.

Tonight, I turn to page 22, where I’m asked about a favourite memory. I struggle against the memory that immediately pops into my head as it involves an ex, with whom things ended badly. Despite this, I start to write…

"Recalling days of sadness, memories haunt me. Recalling days of happiness, I haunt my memories.' Robert Brault

Last summer, my ex-boyfriend bundled me into his van and brought me to Ballyferriter, a small Irish-speaking town in County Kerry on the west coast of Ireland. This was where I had spent my childhood vacations. I hadn’t been there in 16 years so I was extremely excited to revisit this special place.

This impromptu trip has elbowed its way into my patchwork quilt of favourite memories because it was beautiful in its own right and because it awakened a whole landscape of wonderful older memories…

We peered into the boarded-up caravan where I’d spent summers playing heated games of cards and Scrabble, where I’d listened to the tap-dancing rain when I wasn’t warbling along to Mariah Carey on the Walkman, where my cousins and I had huddled together as we whispered ghost stories and feasted on apple drops and Dip Dabs, where my grandma had taught me how to knit a tea-cosy while my granddad completed the Irish Times’ crossword, where we’d dipped bread soldiers into runny eggs with RTÉ Radio One  playing in the background…

We visited the beach where my family and I had picnicked and ridden waves, built sand castles and squelched across seaweed, savouring the sounds and smells of the ocean. This was where I’d drunk my first can of cider and chatted up boys in my native tongue.

We pitched a tent (which was an experience in itself) and drove into the village. I pictured myself, as a child, walking into town, stopping to pick black currants and suck on fuchsias. I remembered dangling from monkey-bars in the hotel playground as I gazed out at An Fear Marbh

An Fear Marbh (the dead man)

We wandered around the village as I regaled my beau with stories of my brother, cousins and I going to the pub to drink  Coke “in a bottle, with a straw”, playing pool against the locals, then buying lollipops and turnover bread with our winnings of punts and pennies, and investing in my first pair of dangly earrings…

Having showed him all the sights, we munched on fish and chips, washed down with a pint of the black stuff. That night, we cosied up on the beach while the crashing waves serenaded us…

The following morning, we woke ourselves up with an excruciatingly refreshing swim. We warmed up by running the length of the beach, then executing a number of yoga moves while still in our bathing suits (much to the astonishment of the well-wrapped-up passers-by). Afterwards, we used a small camping stove to make the most delicious breakfast I have ever had (no exaggeration) of poached eggs and tea…

Writing about this bittersweet memory has taught me three things:

  1. The most wonderful memories are made up of the simplest scenarios.
  2. Even though life hasn’t turned out the way you expected, what happened before still counts.
  3. Just because someone is no longer in your life, doesn’t mean the memories you shared with them should be tinged with sorrow.

Last summer, I was happy and in love. Last summer, I delighted in spooning and holding hands. Last summer, the man I loved made it possible for me to rediscover some of the best moments of my life and, in the process, gave me a wonderful new memory that will stay with me forever. And for that, I will always be grateful.

Images: http://mydeardiamond.tumblr.com/; http://crunchy-little-human.deviantart.com/art/Childhood-198323794; http://inphotos.org/2006/12/21/an-fear-marbh/; neon-stories.tumblr.com; http://www.bigonbuds.com/category/uncategorized/

Single and all loved-up

Being single does not translate as “looking for a partner”. In the words of The Pussycat Dolls (this blog really is high-brow stuff), “I don’t need a man to make me feel good.”

Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I’m available. I want to be sure of myself and my own self-worth before exchanging digits (or body fluids) with some randomer. I want to love and accept myself completely instead of inviting someone else in to do it for me. I’ve got to really know myself and be who I am (and proud of it) before I can meet the right man for me.

If I put myself out there prematurely, I run the risk of getting into the wrong type of relationship. One that will bring me soaring up in the honeymoon stage before crash landing back to reality. Somebody’s bound to get hurt. Been there, done that, bought the self-help book.

We only attract in what we’re projecting out. So, if you’re feeling needy or unattractive or if you’re beating yourself up over anything and everything, you will surely manifest a relationship with someone controlling or critical or angry (or how about all of the above?)

“If you aren’t happy being single, you will never be happy in a relationship. Get your own life and love it first, then share it.” Unknown author

So for now, I’m tentatively entering into a healthy relationship with myself. A romance that’s guaranteed to last a life-time. It’s uncharted territory, folks. But it’s so worthwhile.

So, be grateful for this time you now have to work on yourself and what makes you happy. Giggle with friends over enormous frothy cappuccinos. Take long walks by the coast. Read. Focus on your passion. Start classes in yoga or art or drama. Dance the night away. Go on a skiing or writers’ holiday. Drive somewhere you’ve never been before, with the windows down and your favourite tunes banging. Just because you’re still single doesn’t mean you’re destined to suffer a long, lonely existence with only your cats and knitting needles for company.

Know that you owe it to yourself to experience self-love first.

Featured image: http://www.kriyayoga.com/wallpapers/widescreen_wallpapers/rose/beautiful_roses.html

Images: http://weheartit.com/entry/16568451; http://www.ilovephotoblogs.com/freelance-photographer-salih-guler-ankara-turkey; http://pulpfactor.com/photography/6840/photography-by-luis-beltran/

Things that make me go Aahhhh….

Okay, aside from a little bit of Oooh Aaah Paul McGrath, if you know what I mean (I realise that my foreign readers won’t get the embarrassing rhyming reference to getting jiggy with it), here’s a contented-sigh-inducing list of things that make me go Aahhhh….

That first slug of tea after a long day      The climax of a favourite tune

"Life is too short to drink from an ugly cup." jAne at Tickleberry Farm

The first holiday glimpse of the ocean                   Writing something beautiful

Surrendering my weight into a comfortable bed

         Sliding into a hot bubble bath                 The tightest of bear hugs

Reading the first page of a novel and knowing that this book is going to rock

Taking time out in nature                       The sound of rain beating off a tin roof

*Snow Magic by TORI STEFFEN

WAKING UP TO AN INCREDIBLE SNOW SCENE                         Swimming solo

The sky in all its forms and shades and PaTteRn$

Beauty… from nature to a photograph to a piece of music to a particularly pleasing male form…

Freewheeling after cycling up a steep incline

Sunshine on my skin                                                    Newly changed bedclothes

The scent of yellow furze and freshly cut grass

The blast of hot air as I step off the plane in an exciting foreign location

Lighting a candle just because…

The first gasp of breath after an extraordinary belly laugh

Now, do fill me in on some of the things that make you go Aahhhh

Images: http://everafterxo.blogspot.com/2011/04/127-and-i-picked-her-up-and-away-we-go.html; http://www.top4download.com/beautiful-ocean-sunset-screensaver/screenshot-csthcguk.html; http://www.pixdaus.com/; http://abigaylee.tumblr.com/page/20; http://blog.fly51fly.com/2009/03/08/delicious-photograph-20090308/

Featured Image: http://www.aliciaandnick.com/whitenoise/art.html

Ex-communication: unexpected message from an ex

This blog was created out of heart-break. Things had ended badly with an ex and, though I knew deep down that it was for the best, it didn’t stop the hurt and disappointment. After a number of horrifically depressing, grief-ridden days, I couldn’t stick the pain any longer. So I took out a notepad and started to write. It was then that I decided to turn this awful experience into something positive. And so, out of hardship, and after a considerable amount of pushing, a beautiful blog was born.

And out of this blog, I’ve been granted many marvellous things. I’ve rediscovered my passion for writing. I’ve received encouragement, praise and support from friends and family, and even from wonderful strangers with whom I never would have come into contact without this blog. My life feels fuller. I’ve realised that I don’t need a man to make me whole. And I most certainly don’t need a man who’s going to use and disrespect me.

Time really is the greatest healer. I hadn’t had any contact from my ex for almost a month. I know they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder but sometimes, luckily, it just makes it wander. Even though he still has something belonging to a cousin of mine, I’d been feeling too weak and too raw to ask him to return it. I knew if we had contact, and especially if I saw him, I wouldn’t be able to resist his charms.

This guy, despite warnings from loved ones and even from the logical part of my own mind, had a huge effect on me. I enjoyed his company. He was fun and open and vivacious. He was also dangerous and damaged and destructive. But I cared about him. I adored his eyes and his infectious sense of humour. I loved his smile, the way his lips drew back and his dimples deepened. I had started to fall for him. I was always there for him. I helped him and listened to his problems. And then, just like that, he was gone.

He still visited me in my dreams. Constantly. Like I needed to process what had happened and how I was feeling because I hadn’t had the chance to do it in person. I was slowly coming to the conclusion that he just wasn’t good for me and that I was better off without him. Once I got past his dark curls and sparkling green eyes, his immaturity, insecurity and selfishness became visible. When I looked back on how he treated me, I could very clearly see that he hadn’t cared about me as much as I had cared about him. All I’d longed for was a better life for this lost boy who hadn’t grown up. And I genuinely still want that for him. But, even though I still care, I now care more about myself. I recognise that I was putting myself in harm’s way every time I allowed him back into my life. I was too attached. And each time he cut me off, it hurt that bit more.

This heart-breaking episode has shown me so much about what love is and what it definitely isn’t. Ever since I took my first step on this remarkable new journey, I’ve been shown that the most rewarding type of love is the love you give yourself. In my experience, no sooner are you taught a lesson, than you’re tested on it. If our education system is anything to go by, why else do we learn?

So, you can probably guess what happened next. A month after this beguiling and utterly confusing man disappeared from my life, I received a message from him. I opened it with dread and an irritating remnant of hope. He told me that he had noticed that I’d removed him as a friend on Facebook, which he said was “acceptable, considering my behaviour”. He wished me all the best in my future and signed off using his full name. He had always been dramatic. This was probably the fifth time he’d bestowed me with such a final sentiment. He definitely knew his way around those heart-strings! Tears crept behind my eyes, ready to leap out at any moment. I couldn’t help this initial, very physical reaction. But something within me had shifted ever so slightly. Every other time, I’d fallen for his mind-games and engaged him in conversation until he inevitably said something much like the following: I just want to say that you’re an amazing woman. You deserve the best things in life. And bam! He was back! You’d swear we were the over-the-top leading characters in the latest Nicholas Sparks’ romance! This time, however, I simply replied: “Thanks, you too. By the way, my cousin wants his Sopranos box-set back. You can drop it over to him any time.” And that is that. I’m putting all this behind me, once and for all, and I don’t even have to see him. Why torture myself unnecessarily?

Sudden contact from this exhausting ex momentarily robbed me of the serenity I’d recently been enjoying. That familiar see-saw of emotions resurfaced all too easily. I feel sad about the loss of someone I genuinely cared for. But I know now that I was never really helping him, I was merely another of his distractions. And I most definitely wasn’t helping myself. Since we’ve ended it (for the last time, honest!), I’ve had extraordinary insights into the crisscrossed highways of my mind and how I’ve been negotiating them. I recognise that it wasn’t even the loss of him that hurt so badly, it was more the belief that my life lacked something without him. I felt empty and I had nothing to distract myself from that. A surprising sense of gratitude swept over me. I now thank my ex for forcing me to wake up. Because, without him, this blog would never have come into being.

I sat with my feelings until I had a clear picture of what was going on for me. And then I smoothed on a soothing balm prepared by my loved ones in the form of a laugh-a-minute lunch with my family and numerous indignant and reassuring text messages from my closest friends. And then, as my spirits were rising, I found myself drifting towards nature.

I left the iPod at home and walked with my stillness. There was something surreal, something magical about this quiet evening. Frost spread across the grass like icing. Sheep huddled in silence. I stopped and really looked at one of these creatures. It was big and solid and woolly, with a face that reminded me of nursery rhymes. I wondered what it would feel like to hug it. Suddenly, a large flock of birds swooped overhead, dotting the pink and navy sky with black. Dark trees stood stoically against the sunset. A sense of calm washed over me. I breathed in all this beauty and peace and breathed out the heart-break.

I have finally released him.

zhurnaly.com

Click here for or a list of tips on how to survive heart-break.