Resurrection of the Phoenix

Phoenix

Dear Seamus,

This Easter I didn’t want to just give you a gigantic pile of chocolate. We found a lovely bright little trike at the shops and your Daddy put it together after you had finally gone to sleep. It had a little container under the seat which we put a few treats in. We looked forward to you discovering your gift on Easter morn.

However, like myself and your Dad, you were struggling to stay asleep so you wandered out of your bedroom at 3am. Daddy was tucked up on the couch watching a film and I was lying in bed. I heard you stir and then saw you walk past our room and down the hallway. I didn’t have a chance to warm your Father as you waddled half asleep into the lounge room, with me stumbling two steps behind. Your eyes fixed on the bike and you demanded to know;

“WHO BROUGHT THAT BIKE COME HERE”?!!!

That was that, you were wide awake and therefore so were we! With sheer delight you opened some chocolate eggs and rode your bike round and round. I had the video camera charging but I had no idea how soon I would be using it. I filmed you enjoying your bike and sharing your chocolate with us.

When you look back on that footage in years to come you will see how much you have changed. The older you get the more obvious the transformation will be.

Physically we are going through constant regeneration. There is a common misperception that we all have brand new bodies with sparkly new cells every ten years. Some cells have life spans that are shorter, some just months or even days, or some cells last up to five years. There again there are cells which are never replaced once they die. The fact is though, that we are dynamic organisms. Ever changing and ever evolving.

We go through other life cycles besides the physical ones. Just as we experience corporeal metamorphosis, we also live through intangible transformations. Spiritual changes which we usually describe in a material way, such as “shedding our skin”. Regardless of how it is explained it is always about an uncovering of what is beneath.

So many others that I know, including myself, have been recently exfoliating beliefs and ideas. Molting attitudes and patterns. Peeling back those outer layers and taking tweezers to ancient thorns. This can initially be painful. Wounds are sensitive. There is great tenderness. It can make us cry. Cry we must! Just as blood cleanses a physical gash, tears cleanse our emotional lacerations.

Then we cease to be our old selves. We have died to the past.

Where the longitude of cessation meets the latitude of rebirth, we are born the Phoenix. We are rising from the ashes of extinction, for we are never the same again. We cannot be. Once the cut is healed it does not open again of its own accord. It is sealed, closed. It becomes merely a visual reminder of one single step in our evolution.

It seems so very timely to me, that this Easter so many of us are experiencing resurrections of our own. There is a reawakening to ourselves.

Some of us are tentatively stepping forth into our restorations. Others are leaping into the revival, invigorated with a lightness of being!

The imagery of a man dying in a crucifixion has always been confronting to me. However it certainly does catch your attention in terms of suffering. We all suffer. Most of us have nailed ourselves to a cross. We judge and blame. We criticise and play victim. We withdraw our love by setting conditions. We react to others and hold them accountable for making us feel emotional pain. Sometimes we even hand a hammer and nail and to someone and beg for them to make us suffer. Suffering is what we know, it is our normal and it is as real to us as any material thing.

We all suffer. We all suffer, until the moment we decide not to anymore. Then we do not suffer anymore. That is when we discover what life really is. Then we rise from the dead. We rise from the judgement and blame. We rise from criticism and victimhood. We rise and we love unconditionally. We rise above suffering. We rise into life.

We become the Phoenix and spread our wings so we can fly above all these things.

Seamus, suffering is a choice. It always will be and it always was. Will you choose to crucify yourself? Or will you choose to remove all limitations and walk amongst others in freedom?

Remind yourself that at any time, you may come down from the cross. It can only mean the death of great anguish and your miraculous delivery into being.

“A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jewelled vision of a life started anew” – Aberjhani

Artist in Residence

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Dear Seamus,

Often through life we feel like we are at the mercy of experiences out of our control. Certainly that has been the case for me. I have felt great pain when I don’t have an understanding or know the meaning as to why something is happening. To think that life is merely a chain of random events and has no true meaning, can bring much despair.

That is why it was to great relief when I began to discover the ideas around being the creator of our own reality. Could it be true that everything we are currently seeing, feeling, hearing and doing, is a physical culmination of all our thoughts up to that point? This information essentially put me back in the driver’s seat, knowing that I could now choose to create something different.

I have come to learn that the mind is merely a tool. A magnificent, amazing, powerful piece of equipment. The only question you need ever ask yourself is, who is running the show? By show I mean YOUR LIFE!

Given that your life is like a movie that you are acting out, who is writing the script? Is it your ego? A mad little dictator, controlling and conducting your every move and your every mood? Or is it an omnipresent, freedom loving sense of joy and possibility?

The ego is just a poor substitute for God. In fact the ego is the embodiment of all of our negative perceptions about God. The ego judges, punishes, blames and defends. The ego tries to convince us that we can have control and especially that we can control others. These things are not of God. The ego has personified God, which is impossible because God is a not a person. God is not a thing. God is an experience.

If you want to check in with how you are creating your reality, the clue will always be in how you feel.

When we feel anxiety, struggle, pressure, depression, we are experiencing life through the filter of the mind driven by the ego. In that state we feel we are separate from God, Source and Eternity. You need only remind yourself that you were never disconnected in the first place. So retreat from that world, from that particular creative reality and go back to yourself. That space within you is HOME.

When you are in the now, you are home. When you feel happiness, you are home. When you feel filled with love, you are home.

Many people have spoken of the experience of having dreams about being naked in public. I know that I have. In those dreams I feel shame and I want to hide. I always feel wrong in some way and like everyone is looking at me in a disapproving manner. I am exposed and vulnerable.

That is the equivalent of how I have felt in the past when I am being the mental projection of who I think I am. I was dictated to by the ego. An idea was formed about who I was. It was a mash-up of multiple messages from many different origins. My family, my religion, my schooling, my society, my peers.

All I yearn to do when I feel like that is to find a safe space, in both the dream and my waking life. That safe space is inside you at all times.

Return to it. Return home.

When you are at home, at your centre, you will stand in trust. When you stand in trust you can walk forward with great confidence into the great and mysterious unknown. Know that this unfathomable and mighty soup of mass consciousness is at all times, dynamic. Ever moving. Always creating. Always giving back to you.

When you are plagued with worry and limited by worldly matters, you will be frozen with fear to the spot. That is when you tend to want to go back, to retrace old steps to see if there is something new there. There is never anything new there. You may feel temporary comfort in the familiarity of what you find but you cannot stay in that place and evolve. It is impossible. How can you lovingly create the future if you will not step forward to meet it?

Understand that you are an outlet for the creative force of this Universe. Know that you are constantly building and constructing your reality. You are fashioning your life, you are painting your own canvas. Not only that but you are adding brushstrokes to a universal composition that every one of us is adding to.

Seamus, choose God over the ego every time. Create your life with expansive consciousness. With God you stand secure in the understanding of your brilliance.

The ego may send you on a wild goose chase, seeking satisfaction and happiness and even your life purpose! The great dichotomy is that you will have the most glorious adventures and find the richest of fortunes in the moment that you go home.

“Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure”

Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

Real Romance

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Dear Seamus,

There have been many times in life when I thought that there were experiences I would not have. Given my past or my emotional barriers or my beliefs, there was a list of things I was certain that others would never catch me saying. Let me tell you that at the top of the list was “My wedding day was one of the best days of my life”. I heard others say it, often in romanticized contexts and the cynic in me would scoff. After all I was the girl who had nightmares about white weddings and who felt that marriage was nothing more than entrapment.

So can you imagine my surprise the day a little thought sailing through my mind caught me completely off guard. I was watching your Father pottering around the house. He was cradling you in one arm and prepping your milk bottle.

I found myself pondering the scenario of getting married. It almost shocked me out of the chair! Were all the medications messing with my brain? Where on earth did that come from?

Yet there is was, as plain as the nose on my face, just quietly sitting in my head. I shooed it away and went about my business.

A few days later, it sailed through once again. Such a foreign concept to me in many ways. But there was something undeniable about it, some kind of raw truth that could not be ignored and certainly would not be dismissed.

I gave some thought to this idea and before long I was stepping back to past moments, when odd things had happened.

The first time I ever met your Father was in early 2008. I was visiting your Nanny, on holiday from Sydney. A man in the community was turning sixty and there was a birthday celebration for him in the local hall. Long trestle tables were covered in table clothes and smattered with freshly cut flowers in jam jars. I sat with my Mothers neighbour and we chatted about my worldly travels, in particular my time living in Scotland. Opposite me, a tall well-built man with a beard appeared at the table, holding two plates with food. He handed one to his girlfriend before fishing in his pocket for the cutlery. I noticed the way he doted on her and thought, wouldn’t that be nice. Back in Sydney I was doing some serious internet dating. Lots of dates, no real substance. In a big city it’s easy to have the plenty-of-fish-in-the-sea mentality.

I returned to Sydney to my whirl wind lifestyle and by October of that year I was diagnosed with breast cancer and my life changed forever.

Just over a year later I moved away from my city life and all my friends, to live with Nanny. Thinking my life was now over, I was resigned to living to the end of my days at home with my Mum and my cat. However, life had other plans.

I began to spend time with a man shortly after I arrived and we became companions. We enjoyed one another’s company and soon saw each other most days. One afternoon he invited me to visit with his friends. When we arrived I noticed the man with the beard sitting outside and smoking a cigarette. He and his girlfriend chatted with us. They had a new baby who was sleeping inside.

I recall standing there but being aware that I was somehow outside of myself. Then I heard the words “You are supposed to be here”. It was so strange and so left field I thought I was going bonkers. Here I was standing on this man’s front lawn with my companion and thinking that I was the one meant to be in a relationship with a virtual stranger! I spoke nothing of it to anyone, such was its peculiarity.

I occasionally saw him around town in his beaten up old Toyota Hilux. You could hear it coming well before you spotted it! Later that year his relationship ended and I was genuinely shocked. I felt a sadness for the breakdown of his family.

It was almost exactly a year later when serendipitous circumstances caused us to gravitate towards one another in an intimate way. Our brief summer romance was guaranteed longevity when I discovered I was pregnant and we have been together ever since.

I want to take this time now to redefine the term romantic with you. By popular definition and understanding, romance is characterised by idealistic behaviours in the other. Grand demonstrations of love and symbolic tokens and gestures that we have all agreed on, somewhere along the line.

So here are some examples of my experience of romance with your Father.

He washes my dirty clothes. He dresses my wounds after I have had surgery. When you are in a mood and “only Daddy will do”, he coaxes you to kiss and cuddle me so I don’t feel left out. He puts my mobile back together after I have thrown it against the wall in frustration. He flirtatiously touches me when he knows I am feeling unattractive. When we are out shopping and I get tired, he carries my handbag. On my birthday cake last week he wrote in icing four words that define me; MELANIE, WIFE, MOTHER, FRIEND. He hovers over the stove to make sure the vegetables don’t get too steamed, because he knows I like them crunchy. He says things minutes after I have thought them. Whenever he is about to tell me something I may not like, he always starts with “You know I love you…”

He is my dearest friend. He is the Father of my child. He has loved and accepted me in ways I never thought a man could. He helped me dissolve my fears.

Therefore it all became easy. Easy to love him. Easy to see my life unfolding with him. Easy to marry him.

So on our wedding day, we celebrated with the ease and intimacy that comes so naturally to our relationship. We did it our way. The ceremony was in a beautiful garden. I wore a burgundy dress. We only had immediate family. Our wedding day was one of the best days of my life, because there are so many best days of my life with your Father. It was a beautiful day of celebration but it didn’t feel much different from any other day either.

My darling boy, one day you will be grown and your heart will yearn for another. I know that I am providing an excellent example for you in our home, of what real love is. You watch us always and I see your face light up when we are tender with each other in your presence. Listen to the messages from your heart and don’t dismiss them, for I promise you that it will surprise you in ways you have never known.

“Intuition is really a sudden immersion of the soul into the universal current of life” – Paulo Cohelo

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Vast Deep of Diversity

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Dear Seamus,

When I was pregnant with you we had quite a menagerie of animals in our yard. We had five sheep, two goats and our dog Rex. The largest was a cross bred ram. Whenever I waddled through our front gate he would trot towards me and follow me to the front door. His curiosity and beautiful eyes won my heart. Your Father had been working on farms for the best part of ten years. He told me “When dealing with livestock you never, ever give them names. It personalises the animal and forms attachments”.

Much to your Fathers chagrin I named him Henry.

As it got closer to your due date and I struggled with my mobility, your Dad was nervous that Henry would bowl me over one day so along with the little mob, Henry got moved to an empty paddock across the road.

Each evening when the heat of the day was subsiding, I took the vegetable scraps bucket to feed them. I would lean against the fence and watch them enjoy their snacks. They were all different in personality. One always stood back looking nervous. Another would charge the other sheep, including Henry, to get access to the best picks. Then there was the sheep that would only eat scraps of bread or toast and nothing else. A fussy eater! I saw such diversity in their personalities.

From as long back as I can recall, I was always drawn to what was different. If there was a contrast to my own life and experiences, I was immediately inquisitive. At high school I enjoyed visiting with a certain group of girls. They were from various backgrounds, mostly European but with a smattering of South American countries represented too. As I approached them I could smell the coconut oil which they had rubbed on their legs to tan. On the seats I could see containers of food that somebody’s Mum had made for them to share. They would smile and invite me to sit down. I always felt so welcomed.

When I was twenty-five my Nana offered to buy me a ticket to London and a UK working holiday visa. When she was in her sixties she began to spend six months of each year in Somerset, Southern England. She had travelled extensively during her life to many different countries and wanted to extend an offer to her three grandchildren to have an experience overseas. I arrived in London in the summer of 1999. I was lucky enough to get a job almost immediately and spent almost a year living and working in a hotel in Westminster, just one block away from Westminster Abbey.

After a visit to the famous Edinburgh Festival and a tour taking in William Wallace’s stomping ground and the Isle of Skye, I decided to move to Scotland. It was colder than London but much less gloomy. I recall many a sunny blue sky as I walked along snow covered streets. I shared a toasty Edinburgh flat with two strapping Scotsman. They initially had to repeat almost everything they said because I found it so hard to understand them. As far as they were concerned I was the one with the strange enunciation! So they started speaking a little slower, and I began picking up the nuances and inflections of the Scottish accent. Our diversities met somewhere in the middle.

When I backpacked through Europe I would cross the border from one country to another and immediately there was a new language, currency and culture. I enjoyed the challenge of trying to speak the basics of a language foreign to me. I learned through trial and error the cultural norms and loved sampling the local cuisine. Just as I began to get the hang of things, I would be off to the next country.

In the two years I spent living and travelling through Great Britain, Europe, Ireland and China I met many friends that I still keep in touch with to this day.

Diversity is an incredible gift of this world we live in. It can exist on various scales. Diversity can be as sweeping and enveloping as immersing yourself in a different culture in another country. Or you can see it in a small mob of sheep. Diversity can be delicately subtle or eye-openingly obvious. It is everywhere that you look.

Diversity is to be celebrated Seamus as it offers us so much. If we are here to have a physical experience for the expansion of our souls then keep your eyes and ears open to all that is different.

Diversity is just another point of view, another expression of the divine. A life energy wanting its own expression. However the most important thing to remember is that behind those variations and beyond the distinctions, we are one. Enjoy learning about the assortment that is on offer with detached curiosity and appreciation.

Be aware of this when you are experiencing others purely on the level of differences. See beneath the culture, the religion and the race and behold the human.

Look into the eyes of another and note not their colour or shape, but have the perspicacity to see the life force. At our very core we are the same and we are love.

 

”You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop”. Rumi

Divine Melodies

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Dear Seamus,

I have always loved music. You were about three or four months old when I noticed you too loved music. The first time I became aware of this we were driving into town for an appointment. A song came on the radio and you began to mimic the notes and have your own little sing-a-long. It was such a delight to listen to. It is a daily occurrence in our household to listen to music on the iPod. You have your favourite songs which you repeatedly request until we turn them on. One of your favourites is “Chandelier” by Sia. You love getting up close to the speaker and pointing at it in excitement.

Music is such a beautiful way to experience your emotions and it can connect us so strongly to memories.

My earliest musical memory is sitting between my Father and Nana in her farm ute. I must have been about 4 years old. We had been on a trip into town and were returning to my Nana’s 100 acre property in rural NSW. It was nearing dusk and I could see the wide open farmland whizzing by and smell the freshness of the descending evening. A well-worn Neil Diamond cassette was playing softly. Suddenly we pulled onto the side of the road and there was an urgency in the conversation. My father instructed me to stay in the car as they both got out.

Up on my knees looking through the back window, I watched them make their way towards a fenced paddock. A flock of galahs were on the other side and all but one of them flew away. It was pacing back and forth frantically. That’s when I noticed a bird stuck in the barbed wire fence. My father and his mother sharing a pair of fencing gloves, slowly approached the trapped bird as its distressed mate watched on. Together they worked to untangle the bird’s wing.

As Sweet Caroline serenaded me, I saw the freed bird and its mate fly away to join the other Galahs in the trees. My Father and Nana watched on. It is such a beautiful memory. Years later I went with my Aunty to a Neil Diamond concert and the memory came flooding back. The colours of twilight outlining the birds as they flew away. The happiness and satisfaction on the faces of my Father and Grandmother as they climbed back into the car. My sense of childhood wonder and feelings of love and security as I sat nestled between them for the rest of the journey home.
Music has a way of marking poignant moments for us. It is also an incredible vehicle to allow us to express our emotions.

John Butler recently said in an interview; “Music for me is a kind of diary entry, it’s how I relate to the world; it’s how I express how I feel about the world and all the things that are going on inside me”

It is so many things. It is therapy. It is expression. It is a universal language.

Singer Billy Joel said; “I think music in itself is healing. It’s an explosive expression of humanity. It’s something we are all touched by. No matter what culture we’re from, everyone loves music”

I always loved the idea of being able to sing. However just because I can’t doesn’t mean that I don’t! In one of my many incarnations I did a stint as a Karaoke hostess. I’m quite certain I made some ears bleed but my vocal inadequacies were a great way to get the party started. Someone would inevitably down a glass of Dutch courage and volunteer to pry the microphone from my sweaty grasp.

Whilst singing was not my forte, dancing most certainly was. As a child I adored the escapism of dancing. It was when I felt complete happiness and ultimate freedom. I found a whole new world idolising musicians. They became a great fascination to me. I yearned for a life of musical creativity.

I spent many years of my twenties in nightclubs. I loved everything about the experience. The darkness, the loud music, the anonymity, the freedom to dance, the liberation from self-consciousness and the connectedness with complete strangers. I would dance for hours and make my way home when the sun was coming up, my feet aching. I would feel a dread about returning to the ‘real world’ of which I felt I did not have a place.

Seamus, I would love you to learn a musical instrument. It can another way for you to express yourself. I gave you the Happy Party Band pack for your first birthday. I’m not quite sure what you are naturally drawn to yet. You have given the drum, maracas and xylophone equal attention. I usually end up with the recorder or the tambourine in our collaborations.

I believe that music gives us the same gifts as silence. Music provides an extra dimension and an expansiveness that can only be duplicated in stillness. Silence is an incredible conduit for the unspeakable language of the soul and music is its voice. Be fluent in it.

“Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything”Plato

The colour of Gratitude

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Dear Seamus,

This morning when I woke up, I drew back the curtains and climbed back into bed with your Father. We both quietly gazed out at the misty rain over the paddocks, luscious green with autumns’ cooler temperatures. A mob of sheep and their newly born lambs grazed in the property across the road. The clouds belied their leaden colour with softness and lightness as they tended to the landscape below.

I commented on how beautiful it looked and how lucky we were to live in such a lovely place. I swelled with gratitude and closed my eyes just to dwell in it completely. As I sat there, I recalled my earlier, younger days and noted the absence of gratitude. I did not accept the gift of who I was, so I could not genuinely experience gratitude in my life.

Gratitude cannot be taught or forced. Sometimes we are told, particularly as children, that we are ungrateful. That usually makes us feel bad. It is very difficult to find gratitude from that place of feeling wrong or shameful or guilty. These experiences are the opposite of gratitude.

Gratitude is an experience, not just a concept. I have discovered all of my experiences of pure gratitude come unprompted and unanticipated. Gratitude is the signal, for me, that I am deeply present. It is a signal, a vibration, of love.

Brene Brown points to the present moment when she says; “I don’t have to chase extraordinary moments to find happiness, it is right in front of me if I’m paying attention and practicing gratitude.”

In a conversation with Oprah Winfrey, Eckhart Tolle beautifully describes gratitude as; “When you go deeply into the present, gratitude arises spontaneously, even if it’s just gratitude for breathing, gratitude for the aliveness that you feel in your body. Gratitude is there when you acknowledge the aliveness of the present moment; that’s the foundation for successful living”.

Gratitude flows through us, making us aware of the beauty of that moment. You have recently taken to spotting airplanes flying high in the sky over the farm. You call out excitedly for us to “OOK!!!” as we all crane to see the wispy white streak that follows the plane. I spot it for a moment but then I prefer to watch you, your little face beaming with fascination and your heart filled with gratitude. The wondrous thing is that you don’t label these emotions yet, you have the freedom to just allow them to come, and to be those feelings.

Outside now, the rain has cleared and the clouds are lifting. A rainbow is forming to the east.

If love is a rainbow, then gratitude is indigo. It is simply a different shade of love, but it is love none the less.

Seamus there is beauty everywhere, at every moment. Being present is the conduit for gratitude. Then you will experience the real meaning of prayer. You will not feel the desire to ask for anything for you will recognise that you have it all. Maya Angelou said; “Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer”In that recognition you will experience a deep thanks, an overwhelming gratitude, for all that is. And all that is, is love.

I am love, you are love, and for that I am eternally grateful.

“Once you understand the feeling of gratitude and allow it to sink deeply within you, you will start feeling grateful for everything. And the more grateful you are, the less complaining, grumbling. Once complaining disappears, misery disappears. It exists with complaints.

It is hooked with complaints and with the complaining mind. Misery is impossible with gratefulness. This is one of the most important secrets to learn.” Osho

The Failure of Success

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Dear Seamus,

There are many deities that we can choose to worship in our modern society. If we are not worshipping an individual, then we are worshipping concepts.

These concepts can be extremely powerful as they drive us, fuelled by desire, onwards to a place where we believe we will be ‘better’ or ‘happier’.

The concept of failure and success is particularly good at motivating us.

An Australian University recently surveyed 700 of its students to discover that half of them were stressed and anxious. One of the researchers commented that it reflected a lack of confidence in dealing with the transition into adulthood given finances, independence from their parents, debt and their ability to secure jobs at the end of their qualifications.

To me these comments about the results was simply another reflection of the fear laden environment in which we live. We feel the pressure to succeed.

In High School, along with the emotionally poisonous view I held of myself, I feared for my future after the end of year twelve. Even though I was deeply unhappy at school, the experience was a known one. I knew the pressures of doing well in my final exams and assessments and that those numbers allocated to me had the strength to direct my life path. My marks were average but the current system was to compare every student in the state for a tertiary entrance score. I ended up with a very low mark out of 100 and I allowed the shame of that to define me. I had not succeeded so therefore I must have failed. I saw myself as the failure. Lacking the confidence in myself to pursue a creative path, I sidelined any day dreams of doing an arts degree at University and decided I would take what I could get.

I did get accepted to do a Nursing degree at a western Sydney University which my Father decided against on my behalf. I will never know why he made that decision. Perhaps he saw my lack of confidence and vulnerability as a liability should I be living away from the family. Perhaps he just trusted his intuition. I did not question him at the time. Now that he is dead, it shall remain a mystery.

The New Year was 1991 and it brought the fall out of an economic recession with an unemployment rate similar to post-war Australia. I was unqualified, both educationally and emotionally, and spent much of that first year on government benefits while I looked for work. More failure.

I existed and experienced life within a narrow mental concept. I spent a good deal of time defining what it meant to be successful. I borrowed from the ideas of those around me and depending on who you spoke to or what you read, there were plenty of different translations of success.

I didn’t have a job. Failure. I wasn’t studying at University. Failure. I didn’t have any money. Failure. I didn’t have any real direction for my life. Failure.

However, the greatest failure, was that I believed it and continued to believe it for the next fifteen years. The circumstances may have changed but the sense of failure did not. I recall experiencing such confusion when I achieved something that fit my definition of success. I had the expectation that I would be happy if something unfolded in a certain way, yet when it did I felt strangely empty.

That is what these concepts are, they are empty shells creating a space that can never be filled. Do not be fooled into climbing into this tiny confining place.

You are limitless. Your energy cannot be confined, it is impossible. You are potently mighty with endless potential that exists far beyond the boundaries you might define yourself by.

I unshackled myself from these concepts and allowed the freedom and liberation to flow through every cell in my body.

Seamus, there is no success and there is no failure. These are flimsy attempts at defining the indefinable. They do not exist. Close your eyes and there you will find your true existence, ever present. There is no success or failure there, there is only love.

“Give up defining yourself – to yourself or to others. You won’t die. You will come to life. And don’t be concerned with how others define you. When they define you, they are limiting themselves, so it’s their problem. Whenever you interact with people, don’t be there primarily as a function or a role, but as the field of conscious Presence. You can only lose something that you have, but you cannot lose something that you are”Eckhart Tolle