Last week I was in London attending the book launch of Barefoot Doctor’s – The Message. It was a fantastic event hosted by my dear colleagues Imago People TV – a brand new TV based marketing portal for transformational teachers, evolutionaries and heart-centered thought leaders.
Jude Levy, Rachel Elnaugh and Katharine Dever (Imago founders)
I loved it! The theatre was full of sparkling, inspired, genuine friends and collaborators, gathered for this special occasion – the launch of Imago’s first book publication having recently signed Barefoot as Imago’s first ‘star’.
After his talk, Barefoot signed books and then we were transported to a Soho nightclub by a fleet of people-carriers where we had a trance-dance after party. The cocktails were flowing and Barefoot and his DJ friend led a pumping set. A brilliant way to end the night!
I began reading my copy of The Message this morning. Having heard Barefoot speak just a few days ago, the pages are alive with his voice and presence. I was taken right back to watching him on stage – yes with bare feet – talking from the heart without notes and SO eloquently.
And it’s juicy stuff – captivating and satisfying at such a deep level. It reminded me of when I first heard Buddhism taught so excellently by the funky, fresh, bright young guys at the Glasgow Buddhist Centre in the 1980s.
At the tender age of 19, I was awestruck at the meaning and magic being revealed to me. I was being given the ways and means to live a very blessed life – and although I no longer consider myself to be a Buddhist (prefering to be open to all forms of spiritual wisdom) – those early teachings have nourished me for decades.
And The Message – deeply infused with the Taoist wisdom that Barefoot draws from – describes the same universal principles of freedom, self-mastery and interconnectedness that is the essence of all untainted spiritual teaching.
This morning I am sitting in my conservatory back home in the beautiful Devon countryside, listening to the birds and the sound of our village church bells, watching the trees and shrubs bounce in the gentle wind. It is so peaceful after the hurly-burly of London…
Even although I lived in London for 16 formative years, I rarely strayed beyond the ‘urban village’ created by the Buddhist community I belonged to. And these days, I am very much a country bumpkin – an innocent – unused to the wiley ways of London living.
So when I realised that I’d got lost walking from my city hotel to the Barefoot event at Sadlers Wells Theatre, I had an attack of anxiety. I was lost and alone in the backstreets of Shoreditch, the opposite direction to where I should have been going ( must have been a homing instinct as I used to live in the east end).
Asking directions at a film studio, I was advised to retrace my steps all the way to the main road and catch a cab. It was going to take ages and I was already late! Arghh! Panic! But the bigger, wiser part of me was cool. “Don’t worry”, she said, “it’ll be okay. Just put out a prayer.”
“Please I’d like a taxi to show up for me now”, I thought , and sure enough, a black cab immediately appeared from around the corner to drop someone off right in front of me. I told the cabbie he was my angel and gave him a big tip. We made it to the theatre in time.
It was the second ‘kind assistance from strangers’ experience of my London trip. The first had come in the form of two incredibly sweet receptionists at the hotel who couldn’t do enough to help when I requested a change to a quieter room.
I had considered just putting up with the roaring traffic, but then thought, “Well why not just ask?” In the end my room was much nicer and twice the size of the first – and very quiet. “Hmmm, it’s good practice to simply ask for better things”, I reflected.
The next experience of the kindliness of strangers came a few hours later at the book launch. I pulled out my purse to pay for drinks and my payment cards were nowhere to be seen. For a few moments, panic swept through me “They’ve been stolen! How had that happened? How was I going to pay for my hotel? What do I need to do to cancel them and stop them being used?”
But somehow, even in the swirl of panic, part of me was chilled, loving, peaceful. Time slowed down. Although the bar was busy, the bar tender was patient and smiled sympathetically. A complete stranger standing next to me offered to pay my bill. In a few moments, all was well when I discovered my cards had simply fallen out of my purse into my bag. Phew! But how nice to have been held in my moment of anxiety by the care of others I didn’t even know.
However, the biggest ‘angelic intervention’ via strangers happened the following day when I was on my way to a client’s home for a day of coaching. In the night, I had knocked a glass of water over my Blackberry (Instant manifestation there too. In my half-sleep I thought, “Wouldn’t it be awful if I knocked my water on my Blackberry”, and it promptly happened! Be careful what you think about Srimati!). In the morning, my Blackberry wouldn’t work.
The dreadful realisation that I didn’t actually have my client’s full address or phone number written down anywhere soon overwhelmed me. I was relying on my Blackberry for all that information! Once again, complete panic! And then, once again, the bigger part of me was reassuring, amused, loving, and enjoying the adventure of it all. Something would work out. “Just be open to having some help, as with the taxi”, my inner wisdom said.
I set off. At least I knew the name and whereabouts of the apartment block. Maybe there would only be a few flats to choose from and I’d find her. But when I arrived at the address, I was gazing up at a huge tower block – with at least a hundred apartments! How was I going to track her down?
I asked a few residents but no-one seemed to know my client. I chatted with a friendly cleaner who was mopping the floor. He was sorry but he didn’t know her either. With me still feeling strangely peaceful despite the impasse, he melted into the moment with me and suddenly remembered that there was a concierge office for the estate just a short walk away. Maybe they could help.
They did and I was on time for my client. More importantly, with the backing of my calm, loving bigger self, I had navigated the problem without getting flustered and was still in great nick to conduct my coaching day.
To me these events are such a striking example of our ability to respond creatively even when something challenging is happening to us. If we are aware enough of that bigger, calmer, wiser loving self (even when another part of us is panicking) there is always a positive choice to make – even if its just to be open to the help of strangers when we are feeling alone and vulnerable.
I read somewhere recently, “Nothing happens by accident. It merely has a purpose that is not yet understood.”. I like that. I like the idea that whatever happens is for a purpose, even if it’s not what we want, and even if we are not consciously aware of it’s deeper purpose yet.
On reflection, I recognised that I had unconsciously created these circumstances during my London trip for a purpose. The purpose was to graphically demonstrate to myself that I deserve help, support and the best of things; that I am not alone and don’t have to struggle the hard way and that if I am stuck, even random strangers will help me if I only ask. That’s good stuff for an independent person like me to realise.
In this video, I am talking about the freedom of choice that comes from being able to tune in to our inner wisdom – our bigger, wiser self. Being awake to this allows us to calm down, take our time, make the right decisions, be open to the positive options available to us.
Its just as Barefoot describes in The Message –
“Because as soon as you can see all aspects of the manifest world – this world of people and machines, this world of nature, this world of planets, stars and galaxies, this world of infinite space, and this world of you – as an expression of the ineffable background presence, as the Tao throwing shapes on the dance floor of the universe, you are no longer fooled or perturbed by appearances.”
“So that no matter how thrilling or scary your circumstances in any given moment, no matter how scintillating or distracting the current configuration of details, you remain centered, referenced to and identified with the prime cause informing it all and are thus able to maintain equilibrium and perspective at all times. You are able to receive and process the endless incoming stream of information as an expression of absolute love, life and consciousness, as an expression of God or the Tao talking to you.”
So thank you Barefoot Doctor for inspiring me to write this blog this morning. It was a pleasure to meet you and to participate in your beautiful transmission of The Message.
It’s the eve of Valentine’s Day and I’m thinking about LOVE…
Love has to be my favourite topic and I have written articles, scoped out books, given talks, recorded videos, led workshops and guided meditations on love many, many times.
So how do you find your ideal partner?
It took me a while to find the true love relationship I always wanted. I was 38 and Pat was 50 before we met and we’d both had our fair share of ups and downs in relationship before finding each other.
Here’s my article from Connect Magazine – Meeting My Match – about how I finally prepared myself for and attracted a really great life partner:
Pat and I at our wedding in 2003 – making offerings to the river
It wasn’t long before I was inspired to run Get Ready for Love workshops as part of my coaching practice. During the course of a weekend, participants dived into the deep and delightful process of preparing themselves for a superb relationship.
This article by the Daily Express, shares some of my top tips on getting ready for love:
In the last few days I’ve been reading a book by spiritual teacher Dr Wayne W Dyer called There is a Spiritual Solution to Every Problem. It’s great – so relevant, uplifting and re-assuring – and is awakening many creative thoughts within me.
Wayne first became a source of inspiration for me after my husband Pat introduced his work to me eight or nine years ago. During the 1990s, Wayne taught the Ah meditation – a manifestation practice that he’d learned from one of his Indian Gurus – and Pat and I have been passing it on to friends, colleagues and clients ever since our Thrivecraft days.
Last year, I explored the practice in depth at my Entrepreneurs Find Inner Wisdom event, held here in Totnes, Devon. This was filmed, but apart from posting the videos on my blog soon afterwards, I have not really made a point of publishing them. Despite this, I have noticed that often people find the videos searching for information on the Ah meditation, so perhaps it’s about time that I made them more available…
Having plucked Wayne’s book off my bookshelf recently (and realised it was gifted to me by my special guest at Entrepreneurs Find Inner Wisdom – former BBC TV Dragon and business mentor, Rachel Elnaugh) I took this as a sign that it was time to run the Ah meditation video series here on my blog.
So here you are, a series of six short videos on the Ah meditation to dip into. Do let me know what you think – and what results you get! Enjoy!
1. Manfestation – You are a magician!
2. Introducing the Ah Meditation – Background and How to
3. Questions on the Ah Meditation – Do You Have to Believe for it to Work?
4. Preparing to do the Ah Meditation – Guided Relaxation / Opening the Chakras
5. Practising the Ah Meditation – Guided Practice
6. Concluding the Ah Meditation – Guided Om Chanting
We are all so clever. Me too – what a clever clogs! Whirrrr goes my mind – working it all out, coming up with all the plans and solutions… But now and then I hit a brick wall. My intellect can take me no further. In fact it has sometimes gotten me into quite a lot of trouble – taken me down wrong roads, round in circles or smack into the bricks.
Like most of us I have a very strong work ethic – if only I work harder, put in more effort, I will EARN my right to have or be this or that. Except that pure mental exhertion is not the whole story and it is not sustainable. Sooner or later it becomes counter-productive. By narrowing down our focus to a solitary slog of the intellect we shut out the natural supply of support and energy all around us in other dimensions. It’s like a plant squeezing closed its roots and refusing the sustenance of the soil.
A year ago, whilst living in the Wild Field, I was contemplating my relationship to money, wealth and prosperity. Despite months of thinking, planning and action around making a better living, something was compromising the flow of abundance into my life. I decided to undertake a 40 day spiritual programme – The Abundance Programme by John Randolph-Price – to explore what unconscious attitudes might be holding me back.
Soon into the programme, I uncovered my main ‘vanity’ – an attachment to the idea that I was soley responsible for coming up with all the answers. My pride meant that I was shutting off receptivity to support from elsewhere and it was only when I finally admitted that I’d run out of ideas that any of that was available to me.
Almost as soon as I saw this, things began to change (and indeed, a year on, are very different)…
Here are a couple of videos I recorded at the time – very much in the spirit of Raw and Real in the Wild Field (a no frills spontaneous video diary). I knew one day I’d be brave enough to show some of them to you!
This first one is my basic ‘Aha’ moment about where I’d been going wrong….
And a few days later into the Abundance Programme, this is my video report on how I had already started to attract money from surprising places.
Pat and I moved in February. Caravan dwelling came to a sudden end when problems staying on the field all year round prompted a rethink. The result was a move into this dinky modern house on the edge of the village with my 16 year old son Jamie. We are familiar with the house because its where Jamie has been living with his dad, Colin, and its been our support base whilst living in the wildfield. So Colin moved out and we moved in – taking over the main parenting role again and allowing Jamie to remain in situ in the big bedroom!
Weekdays have a different rhythm now – up at 6.45am with a quiet mug of earl grey in time to wake Jamie for school. Then its sandwich making, reminders about what’s needed for the day, making sure he catches the bus… By 8am I am out in the conservatory – the nearest thing to a caravan in the house – and getting on with my work. Evenings generally involve collecting Jamie from various after school activities, preparing a meal, a bit of TV – often with a foot massage from my guardian angel husband – and flaking out by 11.
I have to admit that I am relishing being a full-time mum again – and its much needed and long overdue. That’s probably why it feels so right. Colin and I have always lived near each other and co-parented amicably since we separated, but its the first time Jamie has been living in one home with me in all those years. The demands of Colin’s work has changed and its been hard for him to support Jamie on his own. With Pat and I sharing the home parent role and my work enjoying the flexibility of self employment, this is a much better arrangement for Jamie’s last few years of school.
The idea came out of the blue and fell into place immediately. None of us had been thinking along those lines at all. However, even Pat – a reclusive wild man and caravan-life adorer – was convinced of the plan’s merits as soon as it arose. He’s having the toughest time adapting back to ‘normal’ domestic life, but he’s doing his best for the greater good.
Part of the idea is that we keep the caravans and use them during the camping season. This means that any of us can escape back to the wildfield when we need to – just a stone’s throw away but a whole different world. And look out for a new retreat package I’ll be offering soon including accomodation in the wildfield – a perfect place to get away from it all.
Caravans in the Wildfield
So, only 7 months after the biggest downsizing move of my life, it’s been time to upscale again! Having given away all our furniture and household belongings, we needed to start over. However, the abundant universe soon showerered us with gifts and blessings. Within 10 days of moving our new home was all ready and we were celebrating a house-warming with our generous friends and family. Another plus is that after spending a severe, snowy winter in a 25 foot caravan, this modest 2up/2down feels like a palace of comfort and modern conveniences!
Living room to conservatory in new house
The move back into householder life marks the conclusion of an unusually introverted few months over the winter. By the end of October last year (the date of my last blog entry!) I was starting to put the breaks on ever expanding business plans and activities to concentrate on things closer to home. After more than a decade of being full on and ‘out there’ with my vocation, finances and family needed my full attention for a while. It was time to get my own house in order!
Initially, I simply wanted to be around my mum in Scotland as much as possible. She’s been going through extensive medical treatment and I could think of nothing better than to drop everything and be with her. In the event, Pat and I spent most of December up there. Mum lives in a lovely villa on a tiny island off the west coast of the mainland. We spent much of the UK’s ‘big freeze’ up there – helping with driving and hospital visits, enjoying family communion and filling our souls with the stunning beauty of the place.
View out to sea from mum’s upstairs window
Scotland was a tonic after spending November with my nose in account books. As well as doing my current end of year accounts, it was time to face some financial music about a business that hadn’t been doing so well and needed winding up. It was painful and confronting, demanding ruthless soul searching as well as loads of practical work. Every assumption, motive, decision, choice and step that Pat and I had made in recent years had to be examined. With no stone unturned on any level, it was excruciatingly personal and challenging to our self-esteem – and SO hard to forgive mistakes and let go!
As my colleague Rachel Elnaugh will tell you in her brilliant book, Business Nightmares, most entrepreneurs go through extreme financial challenges. Yet there’s a lot of shame and secrecy surrounding it – especially in the UK – and therefore its rarely discussed. But without sharing this crucial business experience how can we learn how to handle it from each other?
Business Nightmares is such an encouraging, inspiring and informative read. By revealling the inside stories of how even well known and successful entrepreneurs struggle, Rachel makes you realise you are not alone. And far from being shameful, knowing what the entrepreneur has been through makes you respect them even more. Do get yourself a copy if you haven’t already. It’s so well written by the wise, warm and witty former TV Dragon, Rachel Elnaugh. Click here to find out more www.rachelelnaugh.com
Telling the Coaching Connect conference about Rachel’s book
During November’s process of intense self-examination, it also dawned on me that I’d become a little bedazzled by a kind of ‘ambitious glitz’. I’d spent the previous 18 months vigourously developing my expert platform (as its called!) – glamming up my public image, publishing blogs and videos, courting book and media deals, launching new workshops, speaking at conferences, cultivating exciting new colleagues and establishing an international network via social media.
All that had been so much fun that I didn’t realise I’d got a bit carried away, taken flight and lost touch with my home ground, or that a certain pushy “must have big success” had crept into me. I knew something wasn’t right because things stopped coming to fruition and I was feeling increasingly strained. Eventually I consulted my inner guidance about it and the message came through loud and clear – “Just STOP, Srimati!” And so I decided to drop everything and take some time out.
It was scary letting go and not knowing what was going to happen, but my courage was rewarded. Having followed my soulful beckonings through the dark of winter, I did find myself back on firm ground and free from the burden of grasping after future success.
There’s a new ease and relaxation in my approach to my vocation and I feel deeply contented and quietly confident that the right work will come to me at the right time. Of course the universe has received my telepathic energetic transmission instantly and a graceful wave of wonderful new work is now gently cascading into my well balanced life. It sure beats chasing the big time!
So I’ll leave you with a video of a conversation Rachel and I had last year. We are talking about telepathic marketing – the art of attracting business opportunities by paying attention to our inner life. It draws on the universal principle that life simply delivers to you whatever you energetically expect will come – whether good or bad – and whether you are conscious of it or not. To find out more about this phenomenon, see the book Ask and it is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks.
The trick is to be aware of your beliefs about life and the signals you are therefore putting out. With a little inner work, you can make sure that they are genuinely aligned with your best interests – and so the universe delivers what’s in your best interests. And as I can testify, there’s nothing better than graceful waves of wonderful things cascading into your life because you’ve put your own house in order!
Its been sooooo much more challenging than I thought it would. I mean, I knew it would be an adjustment moving from a nine room country cottage to a couple of caravans in a field, but I didn’t expect the personal disorientation to be so strong.
Okay it’s a big downsize and I knew I’d be saying goodbye to a lot of stuff and learning to live in less space and be confronted with emptying toilet tanks in the rain, but I didn’t expect to have the carpet ripped from under my feet. If I’m honest I’ve been feeling horribly unsettled and insecure since we moved a month ago. Where has the happy, inspired, life-loving Srimati gone?
Last night, Pat, my husband, stirred around 1am and I woke up too. I find that if I wake within a short while of going to sleep at night – and there’s something undigested going on emotionally – I’m presented with a shadowey, doom laden ‘oh-oh’ of uncomfortable feelings that won’t go away and won’t let me get back to sleep again. Last night it was dreadful, soul sucking, zero confidence. Everything was wrong. I was wrong. Life was wrong. And some how it was all my fault.
Many is the time I’ve been up in the night battling with such demons. I often wonder, however, how many women can say that they have a husband who is willing to spend all night, if necessary, slaying demons with them? I have one such husband – totally mad in many eyes and utterly sane in mine. A misunderstood Cornish rascal, I’ve been bright enough to recognise I have my very own, flesh and blood, guardian angel sharing my life with me. Pat is one hell of an ally and absolutely the best friend I’ve ever had by a mile.
So there we were in dressing gowns sitting under the moon in camp chairs at two in the morning. I briefly described how I was feeling. “I know”, he said, “I could feel your energy nose-diving all day.” I gazed at the magical moon appearing and disappearing into clouds and listened. His gravelly voiced, meandering stories and irreverant observations soothed me and brought humorous clarity all at the same time. I felt better. I could see what I’d been doing to myself…
Giving it All Away
Sometimes I get so frustrated with my own habitual mess ups – “Arggh! Stop! You’ve done it again! For goodness sake, STOP it Srimati!” Our habits and blind spots can be so entrenched. It seems to me that we all have one big core mucked up tendency that we spend our entire life attempting to break free of. (That’s if we are conscious enough to even try. There are plenty of us who never even realise what’s going on and just spend life being battered around by the painful consequences of our own unknowing over and over again).
With me it’s over-giving. I don’t mean being super generous, I mean giving inappropriately, ‘giving’ to the point that I abuse myself and prevent others from taking responsibility for themselves. Eventually, I get tired and depleted and have a kickback of resentment. The other person remains infantalised and never learns to stand on their own two feet. So in fact it’s not generous at all because nobody gains anything! Giving is only generosity when it is appropriately given and comes from a full cup, not being drunkenly sucked up from the dregs of a spill on the floor.
Over-giving is a classic generosity distortion, especially with mothers (and guess where my tendency shows itself most? Yes, with my 15 year old son Jamie). Not surprisingly, many of my friends, family and clients suffer from a similar thing. Like attracts like and so we draw people to us that carry similar energy and values – including problematic tendencies. The best teacher, however, is someone who is just a little free-er and more conscious than ourselves, so fortunately my clients do benefit from my years of self inflicted agony.
For the last six weeks I’ve been a one woman pack horse and rescue service. First I spent weeks, dawn to dusk, single handedly packing, redistributing or chucking every possession we had from the cottage, then setting up the caravans. I had the where-with-all to organise a man and a van to move some heavy furniture and ask a group of fab friends to help me with the final clean up day, but other than that, I’ve done the entire thing solo.
At the same time my boy, Jamie, has been experiencing his first big relationship breakup. He split up from his girlfriend after a year, and being an intense young thing (just like his mother) he has taken it hard. Late night and early morning phonecalls, mopping up tears, sick and messy rooms, taxi services to friends and work experiences have been a daily feature. And I’d somehow forgotten he’d be off school for the summer let alone need this extra emotional support. I’d had this romantic idea that I’d do the move in a couple of weeks and then spend July and August writing my first best seller. Hmm, had to re-think that one…
Meanwhile, being a highly sensitive person with multiple health issues, Pat’s chronic neck and back problems got a whole lot worse. In my exhausted, martyr-like hysteria (it’s really not very pretty), pushing to finish the cottage clean up in time, I told him to “F off” if he couldn’t help (the resentment kicking in!). So he did. Feeling totally powerless to reach me through my temporary insanity or love me or support me in any way, he withdrew to the caravans feeling terrible and his neck promptly went into acute spasm.
So, despite Pat’s enthusiasm for the caravan way of life, he’s not been able to help with usual domestics let alone the extra carrying and fetching this lifestyle requires. I felt like I’d cursed our last moment together at the cottage. Those ugly words were the last to leave my lips and it seemed like the antithesis of the love and appreciation we’d share there for two and a half years. The next morning, I went back to the cottage to say goodbye properly. All tasks done now, I went from room to room, remembering, weeping, blessing and praying. I asked for forgiveness and to cleanse the stain I’d made the day before.
Being a Mystic Angel
A few months ago, I picked up Doreen Virtue’s book, Realms of the Earth Angels, and experienced a revelation. In her book, Doreen, describes personality traits and life experiences in terms of certain types of earth angels (do read this fantastic wee book to get the whole context). I had such recognition of myself that I began to shake. Her categorisations made so much sense of my life and relationships, my strengths and weaknesses and my purpose and inspiration. So much so that it generated a new title for the biography that I’m writing – More Than Meets the Eye: My Life as a Mystic Angel.
At first I thought I was a Wise One – compassionate and committed to helping the world, a leader and guide, a powerful manifestor with a tendency to be over serious. However, I also recognised myself in the Incarnate Angel category. Here is the over-giving for a start. Along side this is an innocent, loving and trusting nature which can easily be taken advantage of. Incarnate Angels can tend to overweight (check) and drawn into co-dependent relationships (check).
And so it turns out I’m a Mystic Angel – a blend of both a Wise One and a Incarnate Angel. Right now, its my Incarnate Angel vulnerability/ gullibility that is being tested. Talking to Pat last night under the moon, I realise that I just do not realise when people are lying to me or trying to manipulate me or use me. I receive what’s said as the truth (I don’t usually get jokes or teasing because I fail to comprehend that the person is not speaking the absolute, literal truth to me!) I always give people the benefit of the doubt, understand why they feel limited or compromised and may not be acting in their own best interests and respond by doing what I can to rescue them from their suffering.
Of coure my trusting and compassionate nature is also my biggest asset! I do genuinely love and understand people and see their beautiful pure natures deep within them. That’s what helps me be such a good coach. However, our greatest weakness is also our greatest strength and vice versa. The trick is to be aware enough to know when our strength has flipped over to the dark side and is serving our fear and unconsciousness instead of our love and wisdom.
To help me with this, Pat has reminded me of a simple basic practice to correct my over-giving – the practice of saying “No!”. Sometimes its embarressing to have to go back to psychological base camp again, but that’s what I need to do. I need to say “No!” more and suffer the discomfort of the other person not getting what they want or having to dig into themselves to provide the solutions. I need to value myself enough to commit to my own needs first and foremost, to fill my cup, so that I can truly give again.
And so, I’ve invented a simple summer routine for myself starting today. Here I am living in the Wild Field. We are all moved. Jamie is getting over his break up and settling into his summer holidays. Pat’s neck is getting better. I have some time to myself again – time that I could fool myself into giving away to others if I am not vigilant. But I feel I will go mad if I do not now honour what is most precious in my life – my vocation to write and share wisdom.
In my own best interests, I’ve set some boundaries… I will not turn my phone on until midday. I will spend every weekday morning quietly by myself writing and meditating. My weekday mornings are all MINE from now on! And so, here it is, the outpouring of my love and creativity from a full cup – Raw and Real: Intimate Insights from the Wild Field. I hope you join me here often.
Totnes is full of single mothers and hardly any single men – my new friends in Devon were quite adamant. “I hope you’re not expecting to find a partner down here!” But I wasn’t moving to Totnes to find a partner, not yet anyway.
After 16 years living in a Buddhist community in London, it was time to move on, and my longing for a rural lifestyle could no longer be ignored. But most importantly of all, my seven-year-old son, Jamie, deserved a more gentle upbringing than a city could afford.
Despite the good reasons, however, there was also an element of strange magnetism I couldn’t put my finger on. In many ways I was leaving a great situation and jumping into the unknown, but there was a compelling force drawing me on – and I had a daring, inexplicable knowledge that this was absolutely the right move.
So, one sunny September morning in 2001, I packed my little grey Peugot to bursting, strapped Jamie in the front beside me, and set off for our new life in the country.
At 37, I was a free agent for the first time pretty much since my teens. I’d split amicably from Jamie’s dad two years ago. It was the most civilised split I’ve ever heard of, but even so, the impact of separating the family was utterly devastating.
My escape came in the form of a smouldering Spanish guy from my 5 Rhythms dance class. However it wasn’t long before I became emotionally trashed by this crazy sex fest of a so called relationship. I was so fragile that I clung on for far too long. Moving to Devon would make sure it was over for good. For the first time in all those years, I was single, and I felt it. I was F – R – E – E !
My heart was soaring when we got out to stretch our legs at Stonehenge. What an incredible monument to mark the half way point to Devon. The sky was blue and the ancient stones seemed to be humming with affirmation that we were doing the right thing. We weren’t in dirty, frantic, complicated London now. Here was the gateway to a whole new magical realm.
Our first base was a caravan in a charming farm campsite not far from Totnes. We were leaving behind a lovely, secure and affordable home in London. It was part of a triangle of Victorian maisonettes with gardens backing on to each other so the kids were safe to roam around with each other.
I was glad that Jamie still had some of that now – access to an indoor swimming pool and an adventure playground and a few other families who were temporarily living at the campsite during the offseason just like us.
There was a lot to do – a home to find, school for Jamie, money to earn, new friends to make. I was fully occupied and completely excited by the experience of making this beautiful place our home.
Originally a spa town, Totnes is known as the ‘alternative capital of the UK’ and has attracted all sorts of interesting people and progressive projects into it’s midst over the decades. And driving through the stunning countryside brought me out in mild bliss every day – very different from the tension that inevitably comes with ‘cheeky driving’ through London traffic.
But by night I was lonely and reeling from all the changes. Jamie was having a tough time too and was playing up appallingly. He was understandably disturbed and angry about being ripped away from all he knew, and I was feeling the strain and guilt. (What possessed me to think he’d settle at the fairy-like Steiner School after his formative years in inner city mainstream education?)
Sometimes the grief and disorientation were almost unbearable. It would have been so comforting to have someone intimate to share all this with – a manly chest to snuggle into…
So, in night time lonely autopilot, I reached out half heartedly for a liaison. Computer dating was a pleasant distraction, safe in the knowledge that everyone was at a reassuring cyber distance. The few dates I met up with soon dissolved any cosy illusions of romance I’d entertained myself with.
There were also a few ‘real’ single men I ran into (despite what my friends had said, Totnes seemed to have plenty of them). I spent a month with Martin no.1, and another with Martin no.2, and hung out with an attractive new friend while he was between girlfriends. But none of it was right and nothing got off the ground.
I knew that this was because I still had some healing to do, and at last I decided to co-operate with the process. I needed to do what usually has to be done when recovering from one relationship and preparing for another – to stay in the gap for as long as it takes and be with myself for a while.
I was overdue to complete some unfinished emotional business – to understand what had happened and why; to let go of hurts and fears; to re-asses who I am now; and establish what kind of relationship would be good for me next.
As a meditator I already had an invaluable tool at my disposal. Meditation gives emotional space and opens up a bigger perspective that allows us to face challenges positively. Along with regular chats with insightful friends and family, my meditation practise gave me the resources to navigate my way through the stormy emotional waters.
So did my practice of 5 Rhythms Dance. At my weekly class, and in the privacy of my own home, this wonderful form of dance free expression accessed and gave full voice to the stories and emotions stuck in my body. I danced and roared and stamped and cried (a lot!) and laughed and gave thanks and laid the ghosts to rest. Over the weeks I became clearer, free-er and more peaceful.
In early February I attended a sweat lodge held by a lovely local shaman down by the River Dart. In the dark, eerie beauty of a winter forest, we ceremonially heated huge stones in a roaring wooden pyre. Once ready, the hot stones were brought into the lodge one by one and sprinkled with sage water.
We sat in a circle inside the lodge, naked and in total darkness, sweating and singing and praying. It was like being inside a womb of pure spirit. We spoke aloud one at a time, each prayer seeming to come from infinite consciousness and be sent out into the entire universe. My prayer was spontaneous and ardent – “Please help me let go of the past and allow me the time and space I need before I get involved in another relationship.”
During one of my more contented evenings, and inspired by Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s book, ‘The Invitation’, I did some reflective writing. In a deep, prayerful way, I wrote about what I longed for – the kind of loving partner that would be ideal for me.
It was almost sacreligious to be so damn honest about what would be utterly wonderful for me. I’d never given myself permission to state these things before. But once it was down on paper I found I was moved by the quality of person I was describing in those two dozen short paragraphs. And somehow, having committed my vision to paper, this man began to take on a tangible existence. It was spooky. It was as though I had begun to create a reality, or at least, call a reality towards me.
Having read widely about metaphysical principles since then, I know that this is exactly what is occurring when we make things conscious and decide to move towards them. As my old Buddhist teacher used to say, ‘It’s not so much that man wills, but that will man’s’. In other words our will manifests into form not the other way around. We become what we wish for. We create our reality from our thoughts and feelings and expectations.
Now, in my work as a coach, writing about ideals is an exercise that my clients use with unremittingly powerful results. But back then, I somewhat innocently placed my writings on my meditation shrine, and forgot about them. Little did I know that I’d planted a seed that would invisibly grow into a garden of opportunity, or that I’d soon be looking upon the face of the man who would become my husband.
At first I didn’t realise I’d met him. As far as I was concerned, this ‘Pat’ guy was just a housemate of a childminder friend I’d gotten to know at Jamie’s school.
Ann and I used to hang out at each other’s houses while our boys played together. So my first few meetings with Pat were incidental – brief interactions during a flurry of noisy, stampeding boys needing after school snacks. I was in ‘mum mode’ and, anyway, I had a background distraction still rolling with one man or another I was half involved with. I wasn’t paying attention where it was due. It took me a further couple of months to wake up. And what a wake up call it was.
Towards the end of April, my much loved, dear, wise, loving gran was dying in Scotland. My sister was giving me bulletins every day, and I was waiting for news of her final passing. Life was sharp. My heart was so open.
Contrastingly, I was experiencing impossibly crossed wires with Martin no.2 and decided to finish it. The very night I broke it off he fell off his steep garden terrace and was hospitalised with a broken back. I was shocked into further acute awakeness.
That same week (intuitively picking up on what was about to happen, I’m sure) I had my Spanish ex-lover from London on the phone asking for one last chance. For the first and last time, I said ‘No’ properly. It was after the sweat lodge prayer and I was crystal clear. Now I was truly free from any involvment whatsoever. I was free to pay attention where it was due.
On the Tuesday I arrived for a session of Holographic Repatterning with my friend Christina. I had booked the session a week ago to help with my relationship with Jamie, but there was something else on the menu.
It soon emerged that the key theme I was ready to explore was meeting the right partner. In the session, Christina revealled to me that I held the unconsious belief that ‘I could never meet a partner that could meet me on all levels’. This was a core reason I had been compromising myself in other relationships. She worked with me over 2 hours to shift this belief, and, three days later…
Pat was covering his childminder housemate’s shift for the day and we were looking after the boys together in the school yard. (Actually, Ann had been trying to set us up for a while as Pat had already eyeballed me with great interest, but I hadn’t noticed). It was the first chance Pat and I had to really talk.
I told him about Martin no.2 and the broken back. Knowing a little about me he commented that it’s very difficult to have a relationship with someone who isn’t spiritual if you are yourself. I liked him. I liked the way he sat on a rock in the playground and looked like a cowboy from the wild west.
Although I didn’t know why, I agreed that I might meet him for a drink that night. I was feeling incredibly sensitive and anti-social (and a pub is the last place I’d go at the best of times) but something led me into the Sea Trout Inn.
The Sea Trout was Pat’s regular drinking hole, just a stone’s throw from the cottage Christina had found for us to move into after our stay in the caravan. I laid aside my puritanical Buddhist prejudices and was pleasantly surprised by the level of meaningful communication happening amongst the public bar locals.
Pat was typically animated and in full flood “You’ve gotta get outta yar head and intta yar heart” he was insisting. He sounded like a cowboy too, or maybe one of those charismatic American preachers.
“A bit full on” I thought to myself, but I was intrigued. And then, suddenly, in the middle of all the passionate discussion, Pat and I gazed intently upon each other. ‘I see you’, he said, slowly and knowingly. ‘I see you too’, I replied with equal gravitas.
In that moment, we did indeed truly see one another. It was like a lightening flash had struck and lit up the entire vast landscape of who we are. The moment returned to darkness, but the flash revealed something forever. In that moment I realised that I recognised Pat, that I knew him, and with that knowledge came the deepest trust and truest love.
We parted in the car park with us both feeling somewhat stunned. “I lo…lo…lo…” Pat stammered. He seemed to be saying something and stuffing it back into his mouth at the same time. He looked as perplexed as I felt. Was he trying to resist saying that he LOVES me? Nah. Surely not.
I went back to the cottage and received the news that my gran had just passed away. Dear Gran. Dear kind, loving, strong, simple, generous, understanding, fiesty, affectionate gran. My spirit couldn’t help but elevate to commune with her and God and the afterlife and all of that other indecribable stuff that these words just don’t do justice to. Her love and essence were filling the Devon skies and I just had to fly with her for a while.
As if in a dream, I found myself popping into the pub at Sunday lunchtime to find Pat. It was completely unplanned. All of a sudden I was there inviting him to take a walk on Dartmoor with me.
We talked about Gran and meditation. Sitting by a rock pool, he told me he would have loved to study psychology if he’d ever been able to. I told him that psychology had been my main subject at University.
Without thinking about it, I took his hand as we walked back to the car. It was as though a greater force was acting through me. I certainly didn’t have the where-with-all to acknowledge what was going on, or make any judgements with my head. I was in the spontanieous and innocent world of my heart alright.
We shared our first kiss in the Sea Trout car park the next night. I was preparing to go to Gran’s funeral later that week. “Come… Back… To… Me…” Pat said gently and plainly. I’d already explained that I had a few romantic loose ends to tie up and couldn’t promise anything. “Take whatever time you need”, he replied.
The day before I flew to Scotland, he appeared in the school playground at pick up time. Pressing a rose quartz into my hand, he wished me well on my trip. Keen interest and support, understanding and freedom. This was a recipe for love. I recognised these qualities from my ideal man list.
It took me another couple of weeks to fully absorb the significance of what was occurring, but in the aftermath of my gran’s funeral, it was a simple and inevitable fact that we would love each other and be together. “Shall we love each other, then?” Pat had asked after an evening of endless, sublime kissing. “Yes, let’s” I replied, but it didn’t really need an answer.
I’d never experienced anything like it. There was no posturing or trying to impress each other and no attempts to hide our less favourable attributes – we were just relaxed and unselfconscious with each other from the very beginning. And there was no question about whether or not we’d be together – no push-pull fear of rejection or of being overwhelmed, no insecurity whatsoever.
Likewise, there was no great destabilising intoxication – the feelings were immediate and profound, but our heads were clear and our feet were on the ground. It was so straight forward – complete harmony, complete certainty – and left nothing to negotiate.
Sixteen months later, we were married.
As I was to discover, Pat had also prepared well for the arrival of what he called a ‘divine relationship’ in his life.
A long time meditator like me, Pat had worked through all the issues raised by previous relationships. He particularly practised forgiveness (including himself) and was unusually clear, more so than me, of the sort of relationship backlog that we often carry into future relationships (and mess up by referring back to ghosts instead of the person with us now).
He had also used a specific manifestation meditation to call his vision of a relationship into being. Popularised and taught by Dr Wayne Dyer in the 80s, this ancient practise brings together the power of the chakras, the voice, and creative visualisation. We call it the Ah/Om meditation.
Most importantly of all, perhaps, Pat adopted an attitude that he referred to as ‘100% intention with 100% surrender’. Although he was very clear about the partner he sought and would not compromise with less, he was also prepared for it not to happen and would be perfectly happy to stay alone should he not find his match.
This is the fine and paradoxical art of being open to one’s aspirations and creative possibilities while at the same time being fluid with our expectations. Many people either don’t let themselves dream through fear of not suceeding or strangle their dreams by having too much at stake and therefore too desparate for them to come true.
Often we don’t let ourselves aspire by assuming we won’t succeed (‘Can’t have’), or corrupt our aspirations into egotistical ambitions by having too much self-worth at stake if they flounder (‘Must have’).
Either way, it betrays a lack of self-knowledge and self-belief. When we see ourselves clearly and believe in ourselves, we don’t need to push things away or grab things towards us to shore up a hollow sense of ourselves. We can allow things to be what they are, free from what we have invested in them. In this freedom we can experience the natural flow of coming and going, and somewhat magically, all our true needs are satisfied (‘Having-ness’).
I didn’t believe that I could find someone who could meet me on all levels, so how could I HAVE that sort of relationship. Pat certainly can meet me on all levels.
This relationship is easily the most satisfying and stimulating either of us has ever known on the domestic, physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual levels. It is grounded and it is sacred. We are plumming depths and scaling heights together that would have been hard to access alone.
Of course it is also intense and challenging. We share so much. As well as living together and joining our families, we co-created our first coaching practice, Thrivecraft.
One day last year, I came across the description of the ideal partner I wrote all that time ago. As Pat and I re-read it together, I was filled with a strange, joyful realisation. The man who those words described was now nuzzling my neck, sharing my life and my deepest aspirations.
It’s amazing what we can magnetise into our lives with clear intention and positivity. Now I understand a little more about those compelling forces that brought me to Devon.
Thrivecraft with Maggie Kay 