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

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.