PACING HALLWAYS

It's 3am as I pace my long dark hallway. A little babe is tucked against my torso. Knees pulled up, arms curled tightly against his chest and pressing on my heart, his little head is cradled in the space between my shoulder and neck. His sweet milky breath is warm against my skin. Its not the first time we have walked down this hall with its creaky floorboards beneath us and walls alongside us that sigh with sleepiness and restless bones. We have been pacing for much of the night. The gentle vibration of my steps and my heartbeat against his body have become the only source to his slumber. In the depths of our exhausted minds and among desperate shushhhhs I begin to imagine my little baby, my son, as a grown man. 

I begin to wonder what he will look like and who will comfort him in his times of need. 

I pull him a little closer into me. 

I wonder if there will be times in his life when he will need someone in the night to kiss his face, hold his body and tell him everything is going to be OK. 

I breathe in his baby smell and keep pacing.

I wonder if he will ever feel loneliness and pace his own hallway one day. Searching for an answer or a guidance beyond this physical realm.

I kiss his little head a hundred times. Then a hundred more for the times I cant be there.

I wonder if he will ever lie awake at night battling his swirling thoughts and feel helpless. Silently crying out for help. For some comfort.

I rub his little back and sing a soothing lullaby that I hope echos in his mind forever.

I drift to a memory of seeing a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. His face was pressed against the hard cold concrete and his body was supported by a paper thin blanket. His dark lashes twitched with dreaming. And, I wondered if his mother once held him warm and close. Whispering promises and murmurs of love. Where is she now? Or perhaps he has always slept alone, exposed and abandoned. 

I tuck my sons feet into my dressing gown so he feels no cold. So his body is enveloped by me.

I wonder if he will know that I am always there for him and even as a tall, strong, grown man I will hold him, pace with him and speak kindness and hope into his soul.

For once I am not resentful towards this tiny nocturnal creature and his relentless night waking. In this moment I feel I could spend eternity holding his body and comforting him as we pace hallways engulfed in a quiet darkness. I tell him that as long as I am his mother he will never be alone. He will always have comfort in the dark times. I tell him that I love him, I love him, I love him. I tell him that in his darkness he will meet me. A young mother, tired but full of love, holding his weight with a strength that surpasses any emotional hurt or life's hard knocks. We will pace these long sometimes endless hallways together my son. Sleep now, you're safe and I'm here, always. 

Mama xx 

A TEA MEDITATION

Little snores from my children softly purr throughout the house. I stand in the warmth of candlelight. Its flickering flame both mesmerising and purifying. The kettle on the stove squeals its little I'm done! song. A herbal tea bag full of nourishment is dropped into the bottom of my favorite well used, well sipped cup. A cup whose china has felt my lips on cold mornings, on tiresome afternoons and lonely nights. I slowly pour the boiled water over the tea bag and watch as the magic of infusion changes the liquids color to a murky brown. I'm transported to a chai wallahs cart in India as the spicy smells of cardamon, cinnamon, star anise and pepper seep into my nose through the swirling steam. 

This is wellness.

In this moment I am not sick anymore. I am not fighting off thoughts of hopelessness. I am not consumed by how to be well again. I am immersed in a sweet meditation of present moment experience where a beautiful exchange is taking place. 

Eyes closed I inhale; warmth radiates into my hands which lovingly hold my cup of goodness.

Exhale; the warmth of my exhalation, my life force, creates little ripples across the surface of my tea, like a soft breeze would over a deep lagoon.

Inhale; I sip and savior the beautiful flavors and warmth.

Exhale; a satisfied sigh of gratitude and happiness.

There are many roads to wellness, many pathways in which we set foot on only to take a wrong turn and to come trudging back to search out where we got lost, often dragging behind us a suitcase of guilt, disappointment, self loathing and despair. Everyone says "go this way!" another says "No come this way!" But when do we say "I'm heading that way". Sometimes its not an overhaul of your pantry or a small fortune drop on a new fitness craze that can bring us back into balance. Sometimes it's as simple as being fully with and in the presence of yourself and something you love. Being pleasantly consumed by all reactions of your senses on a simple, quiet and nourishing act. 

Perhaps all it could take that day to feel well again is sipping on a warm cup of hot chai on a cold winters night. 

Astrid xx

MONDAY MOTHERLY WISDOM - IS SOCIAL MEDIA RUINING YOUR MOTHERHOOD EXPERIENCE?

Its after lunch and we are still in our PJs. We are laughing because Louie just did a
fart! #rawmotherhood

When I held my sweet babe for the first time, inhaling her smell of newness and kissing her still womb warmed skin, the last thing on my mind was posting this precious moment on Instagram - or Tweeting it - or showing it on Facebook. I feel lucky that back then I was ignorant to social medias popularity and its power. The memory of meeting my daughter is etched into a part of my brain that does not fade with the hours of life that pass on by. Before I became a regular participator on social media I did not care about how many likes a picture of my child's chubby cheeks got. I cared about how many times I had kissed them that day. A lot has changed in the three years since I had my baby surrounding social media. It has been both a blessing and a curse on how we interact and share our lives.

Yoga practice and yoga shoots are always hijacked by a mini yogi
#rawmotherhood

In this present time, I feel a vibration of anxiety surrounding all of theses photos and posts of our families and our lives. It seems there is a silent race to be the top social media mummy. Who can make it look the shiniest ,the prettiest, the most peaceful? It broods with feelings of inadequacy and insecurity.

But motherhood isn't shiny or pretty or peaceful.

Its loud and dirty and the last time I looked at my house, not so pretty either! The other day I saw this gorgeous photo of a mum breastfeeding while naked. Her boobs were all smooth and perky and there wasn't a trace of a shadow under her dreamy vegan eyes. I got a little inspired and thought I'd try to recreate the same picture. While this other mama looked like Aphrodite feeding baby Jesus, I looked like a haggered old hippy with a child that was sucking on my ape looking  tatas (think tennis ball in a sock) like a furiously hungry lamb and to top it off, he was spread eagle, playing joyously with his willy. I felt so defeated. So ugly and at a loss as to what I had to offer my online mama group. I sure as hell did not fit in with these 'perfect goddesses'. It annoys me that I can have a bad day and feel bad about myself because of these pretend glimpses into another families life. I am the mother I am. The perfect mother for my children and I'm on a mission to stop this parasite in my mind that has been whispering otherwise. 

Forever pulling out all of our clothes and dressing up in Dads hats
#rawmotherhood

Don't get me wrong, for the most part I actually adore feasting my eyes on these mothers photographs and being warmed by their heartfelt posts describing their love for their children. It is inspiring. Its just I feel their needs to be a little bit more real. I have thought long and hard about advice I can offer you, sweet mama, when you are having joy stolen from your motherhood experience because of the comparisons you make. I hope these help you (and me also!) to just own and enjoy the mother that you are. 

• Do not look at your phone when you awake in the morning and for at least 2 hours afterwards. Do not start your day with a flood of images and posts that could bring you down before you've even had your morning wee.
• Make a list of at least 10 things you truly love to do with your children. Is it being in nature and taking walks? Is it visiting a cool cafe and sharing yummy food and fluffies with them? Do you just love moulding  playdough worms in your fingers with them? This is your list and if it doesn't include elaborate crafting then that is OK! 
• Now each day for the next week, pick one of these activities and do it. And while you do it, put your phone away and do not take any photos of it. Be fully engaged, in the present moment and know that this is just precious time for you and your babies. It does not need to be recorded. 
• There are quite a few mums out there who actually get paid to blog, contribute their photos and keep a strong presence on social media. It is their job to make things look really good and perfect. Its their livelihood. Bearing this in mind, know that it's their job to present only their best and they work all sorts of crazy hours to do this. 
• Your children chose YOU. If they wanted @yogimamaearthlovinggodess then they would have landed in her belly. But, your children have chosen you, because you are imperfectly perfect for them and their experience of this life.
• Would you want your daughter or son comparing themselves to other people in cyber space? What would you tell them? Write your answer down and keep it near when you begin to doubt your worthiness.
• Read inspiring books about women and mothers. Cultivate your own images from these books and seek out the ancient wisdom of the motherly sages who lived and nurtured before us. 
• Try to meet up face to face with a fellow mama friend every week. Pour out your woes and happy moments to each other. Lend messages of comfort and empathy. Offer help and ask for help. Snuggle each others babies and learn new ways to do things. These bonds are so healing!
• I will end with what I usually elude to and that is to spend time with just yourself. It can be hard to think when you are inundated with demands from your children and then add the pressure of scrolling through everyone's lives and you have one overstimulated and overloaded mind. Resist the urge to look at your phone right before bed. Instead use that time to meditate, practice mindful breathing, writing, talking and snuggling with your love or watching something funny and light hearted.

Get nude, escape, destroy, poop, repeat!
#rawmotherhood

Now go fourth my strong amazing mothers! Be raw, be real, show your #rawmotherhood! You are ENOUGH and no photo or post is capable of showing the beaming ray of light that your children think you are, every single day.

Astrid xx

WHATS YOUR WORD FOR 2015?

My fearless flyer. My teacher. My daughter

Time is a natural part of this human life. We live in the now and at every moment we leave behind a past and move into a future. Every second can be used as a time to reflect and to change. The new year brings a great opportunity to reminisce on the year that has passed (where did it go?) and how we would like to shape the year ahead. 

One year ago I stood under stark florescent lights in a long line of hungry, suppressed and struggling people. A man in front of me stood barefoot, smelling of urine, weed and oppression. The two guys behind me bantered about their latest stint in prison and the crack they had smoked that morning. I stood in my middle class white clothing holding my baby and asking myself what the fuck I was doing here. Why had I let my family get to this point of being so broke we had to collect emergency food parcels. Tears sprung to my eyes and then I felt something shake inside of me and break open like an earthquake splitting the earth apart. An enormous amount of courage and determination burst out of my brokenness. 

No more. 

This was the last time I ever allowed my family to get to this place. I prayed to God for change and a pathway out of this. Something shifted. A calm flowed over me and I knew what I had to do and what was ahead. 

The sun is streaming through my new little apartment, casting light into dark corners in the City of Angels today. Fresh produce is stacked up in our fridge and my family is happy, healthy and for the moment at peace. A year on and life is very different. It has been a long road, with a lot of hard work and sacrifices have been made. I think about standing in that line often, as it reminds me of where we have come from and what can be achieved with a shift in your mindset and some self education. Every single moment in life can be either met with "woe is me" or "teach me". Every emotion can be fought against or we can be kind to ourselves and take a quiet space to nurture those hurts and breathe compassion and love into them. However, some shitty, cruel and relentless suffering happens in this world. I would like to acknowledge those who have very little choice and have been born into war, unfathomable poverty and who are at the hands of broken, evil humans. I will never understand the pain and suffering that these people must endure. All we can do is look to those who are trying to carve out change by rising up against the warped ideas of power hungry individuals. It's the Nelson Mandelas, the Gandhis, the Malala Yousufzais, the foster parents, the environmentalists and all those wonderful souls who are working towards a better, more peaceful world.

These inspiring people got me thinking about what my word for 2015 would be. I have decided it would be COURAGE. To have the courage to take risks, to go against the norm and be fearless when it comes to going after my dreams. To have the courage to be honest with my family and ask for their help when it's needed. To be courageous and speak up more for myself and those who need a voice. Courage is deciding to step off that cliff of uncertainty and fall into an undiscovered ocean of challenges and opportunities. 

What is your word? What will you be threading into your year?

Wishing everyone, all six billion and something souls on this earth, on this damn beautiful mess of a planet, a happy, loved up, COURAGEOUS and blessed new year.

Love Astrid xx

MONDAY MOTHERLY WISDOM

In the blink of a tired eye our children have grown. Little heads coated in snowy white hair have turned into full blown cascading ruby red locks. Instead of being cocooned against your chest they seek the freedom of the fields and magical hiding places were they can be whoever they want. A fairy, an explorer, a mummy, a mystical creature dreamt up by their lucid minds.

As mothers we wish for for them to never grow up and to always be untouched by the whiplash of lifes hard hits. To not ever feel broken. At the same time we claw our hands into our frazzled hair and beg for long arduous days to be over. To not have to deal with another little person who will tear her own hair out if she doesn't get the purple cup. Who needs constant care and cleaning up after. Motherhood is quite tantric in a lot of ways. Full of dualities. We are essentially beings who are seeking answers and comfort, looking after beings who are also seeking answers and comfort. That in itself is something we must remind ourselves when we feel we are failing at this parenting gig. We are learning, always, about ourselves, the world and how to deal with all the experiences that flow into our life. We may be mothers, but we are also women, dreamers and souls wanting the fullest and most enriching lives possible. What a task this job is!

Lets try to savor the precious younger years of our children by taking an extra moment at night to nuzzle into their little heads as they fall asleep and inhale their sweet innocent aroma. Perhaps we could play one extra game of This Little Piggy and admire those teeney toes that once prodded you inside your tummy. We could spend one day a week where our phones are turned off and pack a bag with enough coffee and good food to keep us energized for a day of play outside. Include a rug and a good book for curling up under a tree when naps are needed. On the flipside, ensure you are getting that alone time with yourself. When I say alone time, I mean no one else around to talk to, not even your facebook friends. Settle into a little nook in a cafe and write out your anguish, read something that nourishes your soul and sip on a bottomless pot of deeply warming and nurturing tea.

Be good to you mama,
Astrid xx

SPEAKING YOUR TRUTH

 

                                       

Its a dream. This life. Its all a dream. I feel that more and more now. Sometimes I catch myself speaking and I don't even believe what I'm saying. I'm merely regurgitating someone elses opinion, or a value of societies or a fear of the cultural climate I was born into. I know when its truly me speaking. The authentic self as one might say. I know its me because I feel something stir inside of me and I can see more clearly. My mask as been stripped away for a moment and I am just me, connecting with you. The fogginess has gone and I feel the words I speak penetrate into the air around me and send ripples of wind to the person who needs that spoken word the most.

I strongly feel we should be questioning what we do, why we do it and what we say on a more regular basis. How often do we take the time to be still and just let precious truths rise to the surface like champagne bubbles, ready to intoxicate us with a much greater joy than the useless spilling of pretend opinions. We want to please, we want to be liked, we want to live up to expectations that come from someone elses need to control. I want to let you in on a little secret... you will never please everyone, you will not be liked by everyone and the only expectation you will ever meet is the law of this life and that is that sometimes it is wonderful and sometimes it is very difficult. Try to imagine everyone as big heavy dusty unfinished novels. Each one filled with chapters of heartbreak, dissapointments, euphoria, conditioning and experiences very different to yours. We judge others by only reading into the chapter they are showing. We forget there are so many words before that make up this being. So many words that perhaps we will never understand. It is not our job to. All we can do is be still and listen. It's all apart of the dream. We can only imagine and dream what treasures and poison this novel beholds by staring at its hard cover.

I, like you, get so caught up with the fucked up systems of this world and the lost who puppet us all into acting out their scene. They are some of the worlds most powerful yet to me the most dazed and confused. By speaking our truths we unearth our own artists easel and begin to paint a life that is bursting with our own unique strokes and colors. Then we step back and see that by listening to our inner voice a portrait of love, forgiveness and freedom has been created.

Channel your inner truth:

• Pray. Pray for clarity and truth.
• Practice active listening instead of reactive listening where you just want to say your piece without really absorbing what someone is saying.
• Question everything you do in life from when you open those beautiful gifts called eyes till you close them at night. Are you living by default or with meaning?
• Aknowledge your reality fully and honestly. This way we let go of assumptions and tone down any dramatic scenarios we make up in our mind.
• Listen to your gut. Mama was spitting some truth when she told you this one. If you feel something on a deep level then that is your truth.
• Reflect on your health. If you don't start voicing your truth or living it, your body will have a hard time keeping up with the lies. Lies are like poison to the body. 
• Just be still. For one moment everyday, close your eyes and just allow the wisdom to float up. Don't be scared, love, you're merely a lotus in the muddy pond water awaiting to rise and show the full expression of your beauty. 

Astrid xx

TREE HUGGING IN LOS ANGELES

Moving to Hollywood saw the same look of dismay on my face as a child who was prematurely told that Santa does not exist. The absence of princesses living happily ever after and people falling madly in love in cute little hipster outfits saw my romanticism of the place die in quite an instant. While there is beauty here it is snuggled up with a lot of litter, poverty, shit stained streets and souls grasping for the illusion of happiness from fame and fortune. Nevertheless, I love it. I don't want to leave this reckless town and its relentless heaving of noise and chaos. For all its filth, tacky glamour and prostitutes hollering on my 7am walk, there are the mountain walks, the many kindred spirits and so much for the senses to explore. The ability to escape and replenish the soul is as easy as heading up Western ave, taking a right onto Los Feliz Boulevard and a left onto Fern Dell drive to find yourself in a woodland paradise called Griffith Park. Deer and horses a plenty, cellphone reception and smog at a minimum. It's here I have spent many hours seated under tall trees gathering my thoughts into my minds basket, ready to sort out the weeds from the blossoms. I love watching the trees in autumn in this town. The branches bare and bent resemble a kind old lady's arthritic fingers pointing out to a distant memory. Chlorophyll drained leaves are plucked by the fall breeze and swirl down creating a fiery red and brown rug for its forest floor. These old woody giants stand tall and admire the seasonal loss. They do not wither or complain about the changes that occur but instead seem to look upon their letting go with admiration and go as far as to create beauty with their shedding. I always look to the trees when needing inspiration to keep going, to keep changing without resilience.

Los Angeles could beat you down. It could strip you bare with its capitalist teeth, exposing your naked bones which are splintered with insecurities, worthlessness and doubt. Or perhaps you could be like the trees. Feeling the weave of the winter blanket being stitched across your vulnerabilities and creating a hardy new skin on those exposed limbs. Swaying with the changes but always rooting down to seek life force and sustenance from the earth. Staying grounded in the storm. I think that's what has got me through this upheaval of moving from one country to another. I have not resisted or challenged the change unfolding in front of me. I have seen the lessons and beauty in the transitional times, and midwifed that inner child into the birth of a new chapter of her life when she has wanted to run away scared into her safe yet stagnant past.

I bid you to make like a 1960's Californian hippy and start hugging some trees when your soul is feeling tethered. The great thing about this place is you have to be really crazy to look crazy so be a free spirit! Learn from nature that speaks in tongues of beauty and time because they have and will continue to outlast us through their effortless meetings with change. 

Astrid x

THE BIRTH OF A MOTHER

It was fear that appeared in the window of my pregnancy test. Those two little lines represented the parallel that my life was running at that moment. In an instant I saw all of my hopes and dreams dashed and a new path carved out before me. I sat in the public toilets in Byron Bay and choked down the tears and looming responsibility that those two lines threatened me with and then I pulled up my big girl panties and I ran as fast as I could. I ran all the way to a grassy little hill and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I closed my wet eyes, took a deep breath and placed my hands to my belly. Hello you......and then I was really in trouble. Fear was replaced by an ancient love. I already knew this little speck of shared reproductive juices. Her imprint had been lying within me since my beginning. It was if she had been echoing in my bones this whole time and like a powerful mantra,, had manifested itself into life. This manifestation came from the vibration of years of daydreaming, reckless love making and perhaps a little destiny. She was now submerged in her own watery universe, dividing, multiplying and changing. We were both changing. She into her physical form and I into a mother. My old self was slowly dying and I could hear the chain rattle in my inhales and exhales as I somewhat clung to my former life. But, I was excited about the birth of a new me.

Over the next few months my belly swelled, as did my day dreaming with my daughter. I would smooth my hand over my full moon round stomach and imagine I was caressing her sweet little head. I ached to just kiss those tiny toes that wriggled under my rib cage and prodded me awake in the depth of the night reminding me of her presence. Pregnancy is like one big acid trip. You float between moments of absolute euphoria, seeing colors, nature and people with new eyes and cosmic connection, then without warning you can be thrust into facing some deep dark skeletons which you have to deal with in order to melt back into a sublime state. There is nothing like pregnancy to hash up all those suppressed emotions and memories and to be made to shed them like an old skin before birthing a new one. And if you don't deal with your stuff during the generous nine months you are given then be sure it'll well up in birth and beyond.

During my labor with my daughter I had all sorts of denied emotions come up. It was like the more my hips and cervix expanded the more my embedded emotional dust got disturbed. Perhaps that why I opted out of my home birth and opted in for a spinal block. Numb the pain, oh god numb the pain. Numb the feelings, just numb everything. Yes said the doctors and yes says society. Suppress, deny, do not grieve, do not see the death of self as a rite of passage into birthing a strong grounded mother. I flipped the bird at vein chilling sedatives and detachment with the birth of my son. I stood bearing into the floor with bare feet and calling upon the millions of woman who had birthed before me, my birthing ancestors, to send their love and strength my way. Every contraction was met with a deep spiraling inside of myself. I can still see the place in my mind I went too. It was far far away, a small place that was filled with light and a glowing orange within its center. It was only in this place that I could handle the intense energy of my labor. Although I had wanted my husband to be my main form of support it was my mother holding me that felt most right. Draping into her arms and giving over the energy of my contractions to a seasoned birther and the woman who gave me the gift of life was one of the most poignant moments in my existence. It was like the contractions surged up through me from the earth, into her and then back into the earth. She was my copper wire, conducting all that power. Perhaps in that moment she became a new mother too.

I always liked the Christian notion of being reborn. But, I feel this does not happen once. We are constantly reborn on a daily, weekly and seasonal basis. Sowing our seeds of intention, shedding, hibernating and springing forth into a new life. I am not the mother I was four years ago or even a week ago. Its futile to think that this life is stable, we are constantly changing and evolving. Its merely the question of how do we flow down lifes river?

My birthing and motherhood experiences are shaping me in a way that I could not have fathomed. It is not what I thought and I have grieved those lost expectations. I am also not the mother I thought I would be. I'm weak in the areas I thought I was strong and strong in the areas I thought I was weak. I love it because I get to be creative and to be in touch with my inner child again. Birthing into motherhood has been a swirling pot of love, connection, dirty laundry, sleepless nights, loneliness, playing in imaginary castles, a lot of time outdoors, a lot of time indoors, a flow, a change, a constant rhythmic change consisting of high notes and low somber tones. In becoming a parent I have learned there is a constant teacher-student exchange. While we are mentoring our children through life we are also being taught by our greatest teachers. We grow and learn beside them. Welcome our babies to the world but do not forget to honor the birth of the mother.

Astrid xx

EMBRACING YOUR DARKNESS

"Fear is a natural reaction of moving closer to the truth" Pema Chodron

Have you ever watched somebody face as you tell them you're depressed? The crinkling in the brow, the slight glaze in their eyes as they subconsciously detach from the pain you are expressing. Even the nostrils begin to flare little as their breath quickens. All these subtle movements are a result of fear. We are afraid of our darkness. We shift uncomfortably when fear creeps into our peripherals, as if agitated by an itch we can't quite get to. Negative emotions are usually met with denial or suppression, but if we just sat in stillness with them letting them come to full fruition we would be amazed at the healing that would follow.

I sat at my kitchen bench oneday, my favourite spot in the house. It has the nice contrast of the cold marble beneath my arms and the warm sun filtering through the window heating my cheeks, turning them a dusty pink. My son all milky white sits at my feet which dangle off the breakfast stool. He's making his own magnificent orchestra with the pots and pans. My daughter lays sleeplily on the couch twirling a lock of her copper hair. I have everything to be greatful for, yet in the pit of my stomach there is a heaviness. When I start to become aware of it my heart is signaled to beat faster as I become afraid of this feeling. But, for whatever reason, that day I plucked up the courage to close my eyes and drop into that churning sorrow in the pit of my stomach. As I did this I felt as though I was falling off a high cliff into a deep dark crevice. As I fell into the engulfing darkeness the full realization of my pain began to take over. It was no longer islolated to my stomach, it soared through my body quaking with its power. Just when I thought I couldn't feel anymore grief I felt myself softly land at the bottom of the crevice. No longer did I feel isolated but instead a part of the darkness and the earth that surrounded me. It was if my bones were making themselves home in the rock and sediment. I was whole yet everywhere. It was a feeling of absoloute expansion. Then a memory came and I was a little girl again, seven years old, seated on my fathers couch afraid, tearful and angry. My brother and I had been subject to deep emotional abuse from another family member, only one of the many times. I remember hearing my dad come home from work and running into his arms, briefly taking in his comforting smell of sandalwood, house paint and cigarettes, then heaving into sobs trying to tell him through gasping breaths what had happened. My young self with her soul shattered was seeking comfort and justice. A justice that never came. So, I was going to see it right instead. I saw myself now as a mother and an adult take the 7 year old me into my arms and I cradled her and let her weep into my chest. I stroked her golden hair and kissed her soft rosy cheeks. I told her I was going to fight for her and she didnt have to be afraid anymore. I looked into her wet blue eyes and whispered that she didn't have to hold onto this pain any longer and I was going to take over now. I pressed my forehead against my young self and breathed unconditional love into her. I then held her even closer to me and with a very stern and powerful voice I told those who had betrayed my younger self exactly what I thought of them and that they no longer had the power to hurt us. They were deeply sorry and I saw their own pain and trauma in their lives. It was no excuse, but I had an understanding. I then took this younger me to a beautiful room with all of her favouite things and tucked her into a feathery soft bed where she could now peacefully rest. It was then I noticed that the grief and pain I had been holding onto was gone. I felt serene and empowered.

When I opened my eyes I took a deep breath in and wiped my tear stained face. I looked over at my children playing happily together on the couch, blissfully unaware of mummy's little trip to the depth of her soul. I felt like a better mother. A piece of me had been mended and so now I could love more fully. I embraced my darkness and it has brought me an immense amount of peace and reconciliation within myself. When I feel something tap tap tapping from my insides I no longer fear it, I invite it in and ask to feel all of it because it has been in my darkness that I have found my most brightest and most luminous light.

Astrid xx

CREATING RITUAL

We only have to look to nature and the world we live in with its seasons and rhythmic changing to know how important and magic ritual is. We are evolving rapidly as a race and with that, a lot of ritual has been lost. We no longer rise with the sun and rest when her shimmering majesty the moon appears. We force crops to grow out of their natural season and environment. We alter our body clocks to fit in with our hectic lives instead of working with nature and our inner compass to guide us through the day. There is hope though and it comes with creating evening and morning rituals. 

There are countless ways to do this. Here is what I do to create a piece of harmony in my day.

We must begin in the evening.

Once little babies are tucked away in bed I head to the bathroom. A candle is lit in order to begin the wind down of my sensors and to let my body know that sleep is approaching. This dimming of light actually helps the release of mealatonin which is the hormone necessary for sleep. I massage some oil into my body and practice some pranayama while doing so. Usually just big deep breaths in and out. Into a hot steamy bath I go. Sometimes i'll drop a little lavender essential oil onto the bottom of the tub which releases a heavenly scent when mixed with the hot water and steam. I use a gentle soap to cleanse the oil and the day away. Generous amounts of moisturizer is applied after my bath session. Dozy and in a state of relaxation I curl up in bed with a hot cup of Golden milk. This deeply healing and sleep inducing drink is an Ayurvedic medicinal beverage made from turmeric paste which is known for its anti inflammatory and immunity boosting properties (recipe for golden milk below). Phones, computers and any other technological device is removed from the bedroom as they cause the nervous system to become over stimulated. I now put my nose into a good book or if anxieties are looming I journal my thoughts and release them onto paper. Little snuffles from my son often means hes ready for a nighttime feed so I turn out the lamp and nestle into him while he suckles away. I try to say a little prayer before drifting off to dreamland and thank my lucky stars for everything and everyone in my life.

And now the morning.

I am usually awoken early by my children but if you don't have little people prying your eyes open at sunrise then try to set your alarm for around 6am. Your alarm should be peaceful and rhythmic. Nothing too startling. Heavy with sleep I lie in bed for a moment and breathe in the new day. I try to flood my mind with positive thoughts so I start on a high vibration. A candle is lit and an intention is set for the day. Slipping into some comfy clothes and shoes I'm out the door for a big walk and yoga. I do a special breathing exercise while walking to get my nervous system up and going and I also repeat some positive affirmations. My incantation at the moment is "Everyday I know my worth more and more". 

Once I reach my local park I roll at my mat and settle in to a 30-40 minute practice. On days I am particularly tired or feeling worn out I will skip the yoga and just sit somewhere where the morning sun can warm my face and do a peaceful meditation. Before I walk in the door of my home I try to center myself and leave all my negative thoughts at the door and ask God that I be a blessing to my family today. This is a beautiful ritual my husband taught me. 

I fill my now hungry tum with a hearty helping of warm porridge. Always topped with seasonal fruits, kefir yogurt and honey. A big cup of chai tea ensues. And now I am ready for the day. Ready for the carrying of babies, the cooking, the sweeping, the peek-a-boos, the going this way and then that way and then the twirling around. The ebb and flow of life.

Golden Milk: Recipe and Photo from Healthy Holistic Living 

Step 1:

Ingredients:

• 1/4 cup Turmeric powder
• 1/2 Teaspoon Ground Pepper
• 1/2 cup filtered water

Mix all ingredients in a small a small sauce pan and mix well. Turn the heat to medium high and stir constantly until the mixture is a thick paste. This does not take long so don’t walk away from the pan.

Let this mixture cool then keep it in a jar in the fridge.

Step 2:

Ingredients:

• 1 cup milk. I use raw milk but you can use almond, coconut or any other milk you prefer.
• 1 teaspoon of coconut oil
• 1/4 teaspoon or more of your Turmeric paste
• Honey to taste

Directions:

Combine all of the ingredients except for honey in a small saucepan. Turn the heat to medium. While heating make sure you constantly stir and do not bring to the boil. Add honey to taste. You can also mix with your favorite chai tea or even a smoothie!

Here is a good video on how to make it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYCQb2YNGt4 

Astrid xx

REVENGE ON THE BOA

“Look at me. Look at my saggy tits full of stretch marks and scars. Ohhhh yea! Do you see them? LOOK!”  These were some of the first words I uttered in my introduction to Burlesque and Body Self-Confidence class. Staring into the eyes of a complete stranger I had to work my way up my body telling them to stare at all the parts I loved and all the parts I hated. My bony feet that have taken me everywhere I need to go in life, my mother’sknobby knees, my incredible thighs, my hips that had expanded to house children, my milk filled and overworked breasts, my slender neck and my face. A face I have admittedly stared into a mirror and spat how much I hated it. But here I was, commanding this stranger to look at me for all I am, flawed andimperfect and utterly ‘fabulous’.

Hold on, weren’t we supposed to be gyrating a chair in some slutty underwear whilst lip syncing some cliché Beyoncé song?Licking our lips and undoing all the hard work of our feminist sisters. Wasn’t I just here to spice up my sex life a little? As it had become about as interesting as a mommy and me group.According to our teacher, Cat, in her swirled British-American accent, “absolutely fucking not”. This workshop was not about pretending to be the epitome of what society thinks women should be, it was about creating a performance that brought out you or an aspect of you that had been locked away in societies little box of taboo.

And so the five week burlesque workshop journey began with my troupe. We were all there for different reasons but I think we all shared the same lust to embody our powerful and divinely beautiful feminine side. For me, I wanted to unlock my inner goddess who had been handcuffed by bad relationships, bosses who had berated me, women who had bullied me, people’s expectations which I’d failed to meet and a huge lack of self-worth. I also wanted to express a side of me that was lost when I became mother. My body is now shared, tugged and constantly sought after for comfort and protection. I wanted to feel like for a moment my body was my own again and I wanted to get back in touch with my sexuality.

It wasn’t easy coming up with poses and a whole routine. It turns out there is a lot more to commanding your presence on the stage than I had expected. And then I got my awkward little hands on a midnight black feather boa. It became an extension of myself and an integral part of my act as it was to be used to seek revenge on all those who had wronged me. I got to pour out all of my unforgiving thoughts and emotions into a sequence of sultry and powerful movements with that boa, that demanded therespect and presence of the space and energy in which I was creating. Sometimes it feels better than good to stop working at forgiving and to just do something that says fuck you, here I am and I’m taking my power back.

While I’m a long way off a dazzling polished performance or stripping down to nipple tassels, I catch myself now being able to look at people in the eye when they speak to me. My initial thoughts when I meet someone are no longer “they aren’t going to like me. I’m too weird, I’m too quiet, I’m too skinny and I’m not interesting enough. Save your dignity Astrid and walk away now!”. Unapologetic for who I am and what I have to offer to the world is the skin I now reside in. It has also been a gift to see the other woman in my class express and evolve a part of themselves that has been itching to get out. I went to this workshop as I was always intrigued by the Burlesque world but never did I think it would have such a profound impact on my self-confidence. So look at me. I am a fearless and beautiful goddess and I’M FABULOUS!

Astrid xx

FEAR OF FAILURE

Hey my name is George (my real name is Anthony, but that's another story)

And well, I have a fear of failure.

I pushed blame, created guilt, wallowed in resentment and proactively promoted procrastination. All to fuel my fear of failure. I have used every excuse to push aside any passions and ambitions and denied myself any sense of achievement by focusing only on my failings.

It seems easier to allow myself to feel stupid than to see the good in what I do.

I just simply punched in and out of life's "time clock" allowing my thoughts to play out the void my life was accustomed too.

I don't know when it began... or maybe I do, but I have allowed this fear to control my life and wipe away any memory of purpose, leaving fear standing over me, hiding in my shadows and controlling me like a puppet. I feel like Pinocchio waiting to become a real boy. A real man. Someone with purpose.

And what is it?

Fear sucks, it literally sucks. It actually sucks any ambitious thoughts into a whirl pool of "you're not good enough."

I have heard the subconscious reacts 5 times faster than your conscious mind and what your subconscious says to you is usually the response you have conditioned yourself to think. This is from years and years of conditioning that plays out faster than your conscious mind leaving your positive affirmations in the dust while your beliefs eat away at you.

Every excuse and anxious thought that makes up the fear we live daily is a constant reminder that we live in an imperfect world, this world has turmoil and chaos and yet so much beauty and magnificence.

This world is authentic and honest and we can decide to be the same or we can choose to live in fear. The greatest lie we tell ourselves is that something that hasn't taken place is real and so, it will be our demise.

But in reality its a fragmented memory that continues to repeat over and over again as if we needed a constant reminder, like an alarm clock that wakes us up from our dream filled with beauty and magnificence.

I guess the hope is that by saying hey my name is... and I have a fear of failure, it might just stop that subconscious alarm clock causing you to wake up to a new dawn filled with hope and wonderment where creativity awaits, longingly to be explored and ambition fills the air with a sweet aroma that brings out the wonderment and beauty of hope.

Maybe fear isn't the enemy maybe its an indication to finding what we are most passionate about maybe its the reason to carry on, in spite of fear, so that one day this world's beauty will be fully revealed within our most hidden treasures.

 

George.

         

      

         

  

WE TRAVEL THE LAND. WE LIVE IN THE HEART.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Photo Credit Thomas Northcut www.freepeople.com 

Travelling and living in a new country has shown me many things about myself and the human race in general. I've come to have a deep gratitude for New Zealand. It's lush beauty and quiet abundance astounds me the more I am away from her. I have never felt connected, though, to my home land. I was always seeking that feeling of being rooted, that magical yoking I see in people when they see themselves as part flesh and part soil of the earth they call home. This was absent from my being. I think that's why my thirst for travel and exploration has always been so strong. Ever since I was a little girl I have dreamed of far away lands, vast oceans and remnants of ancient civilizations. I would pour over the Atlas's my grandfather gifted me on birthdays. I played pretend. Adorned with the saris and bangles my grandmother gave me from her travels to India, I would become an Indian princess ruling over the kingdom with her tiger in the jungle. With a strum of my magic sitar, tiger and I were whirled to new and exotic continents That young gypsy girl is still alive and well inside of me.

My husband and I have only had each other since being in Los Angeles. No family, friends or government benefits to bail us out when times get tough. We have evolved in our personal growth and relationship rapidly. We have fallen apart and knitted ourselves back together with new threads of love we didn't know existed. Finding strength in trying times often comes from realizing truths. Like the ones that hit you in the heart in the dead of the night. The ones that drag you to the bathroom floor where you fold into yourself and flood your hands which cup your sodden face with hot tears of unwanted knowing. To no avail, I would try to swallow these truths back to the dark well in which they were fetched from. My lesson is that releasing and acknowledging your emotions is incredibly healing. Suppressing them into a festering pit of pain will only cause them to bubble out from time to time in the form of physical ailments and disease. 

Our adventure has brought down our towers of expectations and exposed fresh lands of possibilities. It has made us look at ourselves with scrutiny but to invite a kindness when we do so. We continue to learn and reevaluate what is important to us. We still swing between wanting the American Dream and living a simple life on the road. We are somewhere in between.  I still may not feel rooted to any one place but I have come to feel at home on our journey. I am planted within the hearts of my children, family and my friends who are scattered throughout the world which I intend to explore with that little Indian princess, her tiger and sitar nestled lovingly within my soul.

Astrid x