New Years Eve Musings: 2016 to 2017

2017

So it’s New Year’s Eve and it’s time for me to write the past year off… For my eyes only, I’ve written out the highlights of my year out in detail, because I want to let it out, let it go, celebrate and learn from it.

As with most years in the life, it has been mixed.  There has been the good and the bad – the highs and the lows.

To celebrate the good, I give thanks for the following:

  • Times with my brother and my friends – chatting over and chewing the fat of life.
  • For the men who showed a romantic interest in me.  It turns out that despite my inner critic, I am not ‘past it’ in any sense…
  • Celebrating birthdays and special anniversaries with my dear friends.
  • Cooking up a storm.
  • All the pay days.
  • Dancing and singing – sometimes when other people were watching…
  • Growing up with my friend’s children – I am so happy to be ‘aunty’ to the next generation from 3 through to 30 years old.
  • Finding an abandoned kitten, who demanded that I help him, then naming him and seeing him thrive in the home of my dear friends.
  • A friend going through chemotherapy and coming out of the other side – all with warm / wise cracking humour.
  • Reunions with old friends from school and university, with me feeling like I’d finally been picked for the (great) netball team (of life) at long last.
  • Finding romantic love after 6 years of being single (now lost again, which I am so sad about, yet grateful for the experience).
  • To find another child in my life who I could love so easily and feel so protective about.
  • To coach my clients to see and live their glory.
  • To lose myself in my fiction writing – making real progress on my first novel at last.

And there are so many more things / people and occurrences that I am grateful for.  For everything and everyone – thank you, thank you, thank you!

As for all the bad and the broken things throughout this year – I choose to lovingly let them go.

Now I’ve let go and celebrated, it’s time to learn.  My lessons for 2016 are:

  • Spend time with those you hold dear.
  • Do whatever it takes to enjoy the moment you are in – not in some hedonistic / forget about tomorrow vein, but choosing to make the most of all the precious breathing time that you have.
  • Hug as often as you can.
  • Be kind – mainly to yourself.
  • Smile – at strangers, friends, family and in the mirror.
  • Don’t let anger, self-pity or victimisation lead your thoughts.  Choose the principle of ‘the greatest good’ led by love instead.
  • Some of the things that happen in life can mean that we feel pain.  Don’t fight it or try to obliterate it – let it be and work through, not against it.  Keeping living, loving and learning.
  • Move, eat well and drink deep.
  • Choose the things and the people that make you happy and focus on them.  This means in balance that it is easier then to spend time with people who challenge you.  These people can enrich your life with the greatest lessons – what those are, will depend on you.
  • Sometimes you just have to let go.  Do it with grace and empathy.
  • Forgive freely – always starting with yourself.
  • And there are many lessons – they will come to me when I want them.

So farewell to 2016 and welcome to 2017.

With a new year comes resolutions and here are some of mine:

  • To shine a light for others – so they can be the light too.
  • To be more than my body – when it comes to health and nutrition.
  • To finish my first novel and have it published.
  • To keep the faith and be found by my forever significant other.
  • To earn and be blessed with good fortune.
  • To choose, choose and choose – my happiness, health and the greater good.

I will flesh all these out into detailed doings and beings, but for now, that is enough.

So that is today’s cogitations done… It’s time to demarcate the day.  I had made plans to spend the turning of the clock with an old friend and her family.  She’s had a tough holiday period.  Her mother had a stroke several weeks ago and has been in hospital ever since.

My friend called me up yesterday.  What did I think she said, to her going to the hospital and spending what may her mother’s last new year, with her there?  I replied that it was a wonderful idea and that she should follow her heart.  When I put the phone down I felt so proud to have friends like her in my life.  I get to spend time with and celebrate with them constantly.

Like all things in life, how you spend New Years Eve is a choice.  My first plans fell through, for the very best of reasons.  Yet I can make more plans and choose what spirit I bring to this latest tide mark in my life.  My spirit will actually be a chosen cocktail of love, contentment and champagne…

And now it’s time to move on to you the reader – may you celebrate the year behind you and be truly blessed in the year ahead.

With warm regards
Sandra x
Sandra Peachey

For more guidance on how to make resolutions that stick – click here…

If you want to get in touch, you can contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching;
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorThe perfect Christmas gift – you can buy them both on Amazon (in paperback or Kindle) by clicking on the hyperlinks above or else on most bookseller websites around the globe. Your local bookshop may even sell them, or you can ask them nicely to order them in and stock them high;
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category;
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013;
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Being nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015.

Christmas – outside and in

Christmas warms my pagan bones with Christian joy.

It draws me to the ones I love – near and far; in breath and in spirit.

It concentrates celebration and hence magnifies self pity.

So I choose to gain gratitude and remember my good fortune.

I’m glad for all that I have. Nothing is lost or forgotten.

Thank you to all who keep the wheels of the world turning today.

For those who are lonely – I wave. If you are lost – I send light.

And I absorb all the loving Yuletide joy where ever I shall find it.

Out there and in here – here’s to a Happy Christmas, with love.

Banishing the Christmas Gremlin

christmas-goblin

I have a gremlin… And he is both constant and transient.  The constant is that I have named him Martrucio and transiently, he takes different forms at different times.  He can be just like a mangy dog, tagging at my heels and tripping me over.  Sometimes he is a dark cloud floating above my head, obfuscating my positive view of the world with his heavy rainy presence.  He manifests in many ways, not least inhabiting my head when I’m vulnerably tired or laid low by life in some way.

Regardless of his form, he is most definitely dogging me, this gremlin of mine. He is having so much evil fun, chipping and smashing and dashing my planned Christmas happiness into multifarious sharp shards of sadness.

What can I tell you – at this time I feel exhausted, and in this state he finds me a particularly easy target. He trips me up; makes me drop and break things; muzzles my memory and somehow, shortens my tolerance and temper.

He gets me this gremlin – he knows that I like to plan and organise and make my Christmas as easy and as stress free as possible. But he is always determined to find a chink in my organised armour and seek to turn it into a long, vicious crack

As usual I’ve planned my Christmas through from start to finish and I know that this includes working around my gremlin.  I know of old, that Gremlins love Christmas – they feed gluttonously off the combined combustible stress of the crescendo to Christmas Day.  Yes, they like nothing better than to shorten tempers and lengthen impatience – it makes them laugh loudly and dance with undisguised glee.

So working up to Christmas I am tired and feeling under the yuletide weather.  My body has had enough of the dark winter and intermittent wassailing.  It’s rebelling – it rejects and reacts to nearly every meal I eat.  I cut back and add in natural nutrients, fruit, vege and supplements, but still this moon maiden swells and doubles up in gastric discomfort.  It’s hardly fair, but such is (my) life and I just have to keep taking care of myself until it passes. I am sure that this too shall most definitely pass.

So I may be tired and even testy, but I’m aware of it and I work with it and make sure I rest and plan – so true to form I have a gorgeous text book time mapped out this coming Christmas tide. I have places to go and friends to hug. Even my tiredness can bear all this activity, if it’s about socialising and fun.

But gremlins don’t relish this and so they gang together to coerce and spoil our best laid plans…

I had it all worked out, months ago. I arranged to meet my two best friends on the Saturday before Christmas. A restaurant table was booked and also tickets bought to go carol singing at a local stately home. The perfect Hallmark girlie Christmas outing…

Well when the day finally dawned, the gremlins I have to say, had gone all out to put the kibosh on our precious night out. I awoke to find my phone riddled with messages: One friend’s mother had had a near fatal stroke and the other’s daughter was very sick and needed to go to hospital too.

“Well we won’t be carol singing tonight then…” I thought.  I know these two gorgeous girlfriends of mine from old and they would of course be worried and needing to take care of their kin.

So I got out of my tired bed and I checked in on each of them – there was nothing I could do to support them at that moment. But then I was left alone with my gremlin.  And in hindsight, I realise that I actually sought his company out.  And sure enough, he soon started to sing to me – not carols, but dirges of woe:

“So you’re alone at Christmas then. No support. No attention. No children. No one’s priority. Parents gone.  No one to care for and no one to care for you…”

I felt sad. My expectations for the perfect Hallmark Christmas experience had disintegrated into ashes, in a matter of mere minutes. Instead of sisterly sharing, I was now solo.

So I wallowed in the murky mud that Martrucio threw at me. It was sticky and dark mud – hard to see through and even harder to wash off.

Yet the Christmas spirit was still inside of me and I changed my gremlin-ated mind and determined to push him aside… My brain ticked over… I wondered if I could share my planned Hallmark experience with someone else.  Yet all of the ‘someone else’s’ in my life were busy on a Saturday so close to Christmas.  Well fair enough – I hadn’t really pinned my hopes on that option any way.

So – what next? “How can this situation be turned on its’ head?” I wondered.

So then it came to me – I would pay my Christmas experience forward…

Quickly I went onto Facebook and with about 3 hours to go, made the following post:

“I have 3 tickets for carol singing at Warwick Castle to give away for the first taker. My free Christmas gift to whoever would enjoy them! Message me if you would like them and are able to collect…”

Very quickly there was a handful of people posting their interest. I just wanted the tickets to be on their way, so as far as I was concerned – fate and the principle of ‘first come, first served’ would decide who they went to.

A little while later there was a knock at my front door.  I grabbed the tickets and opened the door to a bright young woman with a radiant smile. “A very Happy Christmas to you” I said and handed the tickets over. “And to you too,” she said, handing me back a bottle of mulled wine in a festive Christmas bag, “and thank you so much!” As it turned out, she was newly married and she and her husband were now going to have a festive night out – it would be their first Christmas together.

When she left, I looked at her Facebook timeline, which was filled with wedding pictures of a young, smiling and radiant couple.

My sadness had suddenly been replaced by a smile.  I’d done it – I now felt that some good had come out of this strangest of doubly disastrous days.

Instead of warbling carols, my evening was then spent industriously getting the steal on my Christmas preparations, as I sat and wrapped a myriad of presents, accompanied by soppy Christmas films, blaring away in the background.

I checked on my friends again. All was as well as it could be for them. There I was in my own, but giving thanks for my health and happiness – all wrapped up in my wrapping and having a truly festive time.

And as for my gremlin – Martrucio… well – he was nowhere to be seen…

Merry Christmas to me then!

And, dear reader, may your gremlins be banished and your Christmas fill you with love, laughter and light this year…

With warmest wishes,
Sandie
Sandra Peachey: Blogger and Banisher of Gremlins

If you want to get in touch, you can contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching;
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorThe perfect Christmas gift – you can buy them both on Amazon (in paperback or Kindle) by clicking on the hyperlinks above or else on most bookseller websites around the globe. Your local bookshop may even sell them, or you can ask them nicely to order them in and stock them high;
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category;
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013;
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Being nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015.

Mid-Life Dating: When Hot Flushes have a whole new meaning…

gift-of-loveMy dear Apostle

Well here we are, in a newish relationship, and me being me, that comes with a mixture of emotions – positive and negative.  Dating in middle age comes with a whole set of intricacies that I never ever envisaged (hot flushes for example, have definitely taken on a whole new meaning) and of course, at least two sets of baggage.

Yet today I’ve decided to transmute baggage into learning, and anxiety into appreciation.

We’ve been together for a short enough time that sometimes it still feels strange, and long enough that somehow it feels like we’ve been an item for our own infinity.

I find myself dwelling on the difficulties that come with our being together (or not as the case may be) and bemoaning them, though I try not to communicate all that to you.  I decide instead to commute it – filtering it away or boiling down it down to sound bites of reasonable requests and latent ideas.  I did choose you after all…

Oh, but sometimes the frustration spills out of me in real time and I get stroppy (I’m blaming the menopause…).  I apologise for that, but also think that some of the barbs I come out with at those terse times are – in my own funny opinion – really hilarious.  They lighten the mood, (the one about the voodoo doll is my personal favourite)…

I often muse that one of the reasons I chose you, is that there are hurdles to climb and that those same hurdles – which drive me crazy at times – also slow me down in a good way.  So for me this means that I don’t ‘run ahead’ – planning and imagining as is my wont, other than in the short term.  It also means that I am practicing patience (which I don’t tend to be very good at) and have chosen to live with what we have, in the present.

So in the present I am pondering all the gifts you come with and here are just a few of them:

  • When we have a real conversation, about life, our histories and any old random stuff.
  • Snuggling.
  • When you hug my friends good bye.
  • The look you gave me at the end of our first date.
  • That you are such a good snogger (halleluiah!).
  • When you take my head in your hands and give me that kiss…
  • When you pull me in for a hug and sigh happily, like it’s the best thing in the whole world.
  • You, me, and the cat, with our feet / paws all lined up on the sofa, in purring harmony.
  • That you wiggle your foot at me in a ‘come closer way’ if I’m sitting too far away from you.
  • Seeing you in Andrex dad mode – soft and strong, all at once.
  • The sense of contentment.
  • That you are a happier person than the one I met a while ago…  I’m taking some of the credit.
  • The ‘night, night’ texts you send when we’re not together.

So I wanted to write an appreciation of you with words that ground me in the positive present and have no expectation beyond this moment of gratitude.  They are a simple celebration of what is.

Thank you.
S xxnight-night


Sandra Peachey – Lover and Writer

If you want to get in touch, you can contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching;
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorYou can buy them both on Amazon (in paperback or Kindle) by clicking on the hyperlinks above or else on most bookseller websites around the globe. Your local bookshop may even sell them, or you can ask them nicely to order them in and stock them high;
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category;
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013;
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Being nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015.

 

And in Today’s News: A Long Jumping Goddess

I’m taking time out from National Novel Writing Month to pen my latest ‘Transient Goddess’ Blog. As a such a ditzy and divine creature – I am both blonde and brilliant, whilst being dualistically delightful yet dangerous.  It’s all normally odd and needs some figuring out.  So here goes:  I’m shall confess my daft side and then coach myself to the lightness of understanding and laughter. Thank you for being on this blog page with me…

Transient Seraph.jpg

Being a transient Goddess and all, can be weird…

One the one hand I’m lovable, loquacious, clever, creative and switched on and on the other I am sniffy, accident prone, ditzy, daffy and daft.

Just lately, the whole daftness thing has been getting out of hand… In fact when I got together with one of my oldest friends yesterday, I had so much recent daftness to regale her with, that an update became an updaft

Seriously (or is that hilariously?), it’s getting out of hand lately and it’s getting confusing.  Maybe I just need to sweat it all out somewhere in a home for the menopausally insane until I have passed through the eye of the daft needle into sweet insane old ladyhood.

However, there is no such place for the hormonally instable, so dammit, I’ve just got to work it all out for myself and continue to be middle aged, beautiful, brilliant and DAFT.

But here is my confusion. I am both brilliant and blonde ((made-up) verb not noun).  Let me explain the root of my personality disorder and I will demonstrate, in real (OK blog) time, how I played through both of these scenarios just this very week…

Firstly there I am – sitting in a meeting, in my colourful suit (burgundy dress and long line jacket, actually) – pitching a proposal for work with prospective new corporate clients, in a smart board room somewhere. It’s going well. I know my stuff, I understand what they need and without any preparation or aforethought, I come up with the perfect solution for them.

So I’m sitting on my ‘smug’ perch, surveying the scene at a serene distance. I feel resourceful, got together and well dressed in every sense.  The dressing up part is important to me.  I cannot be doing with not looking the part.  I have to dress like a business goddess as well as act like one.

So, business concluded, I walk out of that building – tall, in my classy high heels.

On another day and in another suit (well, multi-coloured wrap around dress and long line jacket), I have been working away in another office and I want to take a break.  I pull on some boots and go out for a smug walk to clear my head and burn some calories before eating lunch.  It’s in the middle of rural nowhere, but I know my way around and head out confidently to my favourite spot.

It’s a walk along a long abandoned railway track – an absolute idyll of greenery and peace. To get to it, I had to scrabble up a very steep embankment. It took some courage, deep breaths and steely determination, but I’d done it before and there was only ever one way to come back down it – on my arse.  On my ascent this time, for the first time, it was muddy and slippery.  I did not fancy my chances of getting back down in one piece, but somehow, after a few zig zaggy ups and downs, I had made it to the top.  I then surveyed the way I had just climbed, to see scree and mud rolling back down…

‘There has’ I thought, ‘got to be a flatter and safer alternative…’

I walked forwards on the winding flat path. The sun was shining at the zenith of a gorgeous autumn day.  The trees showed off and were shedding their old greenery, now mellow finery, in a stunning blaze of fiery colours.  Their leaves were falling like orange confetti, blowing across my path and crunching under my booted feet. I was ignored by feeding rabbits and busy squirrels; then in the distance a Muntjack deer regarded me cautiously and slowly stalked out of my sight to secret safety.

Basically, if this were a Disney cartoon, right then a cluster of blue birds singing a sweet chirruping tune would be flying ahead, showing me the safe and sane way back down to earth from my train track heaven.

I was on my own though… And I had walked, through all this beucolic beauty, a very long way away from my starting point.

What goes up, must come down though, so at the next bridge I found a way out.  There was no mud, no scree – just a nice defined path wending back the way I needed to find ‘home.’  In my suit and boots I strode confidently along.

That is, until the path turned at a right angle and diverted itself over the hills and far away – in the wrong direction.

Sensibly, I suppose, I could have just turned back, retraced my steps and slid on my arse back down with the scree.  But I had come so far and my arse did not feel like being flayed or my neck broken, so I persevered.

I persevered through shoulder high nettles and brambles. I persevered over and through a wide stream (who knew I could still long jump at my age?). I persevered along the breadth of a barren field until I hit a tall fence, an impenetrable wood and yet another bloody stream.  Tantalisingly Just the other side of the stream, was I knew, a bridle path that would take me back to my erstwhile door… There was no turning back now…

I got down on all fours and commando crawled under trees and shrubbery to get to the fence.  I climbed up and over the alarmingly high fence and having now perfected my long jump skills, flung myself across the second stream – naturally, narrowly missing the bank.  With only slightly wet feet I triumphantly found my path home.  Stopping only to take off my boots, pick the thorns out of my beleaguered feet and then pull my foot ware on again, I quickly limped back.

Having reached my destination and laughing almost hysterically, I took off the boots, only to discover a lithe, wiggly creature, writhing on my toes.  My response was to shriek and to dance it off.  It disappeared out of sight.  Convinced it must have dove for cover between my toes, I headed into the ladies to remove my tights and check to see if it had entered my bloodstream to demonise me forever for my recklessness.  It was nowhere to be seen. My poor legs however, were bitten, stung and scratched… I put my opaque black tights back on, ignoring my ignominious limbs… And as for my elegant long line jacket?  Well it may never be the same again…

I’m not feeling smug right now.  Maybe I could scream though…

Do you see my confusion?  How can I be both a business siren and a bumbling stumbler? And I wish that were the only example of daftery I had to regale my friend with yesterday, but no – it wasn’t.  I had at least 3 other stories in my demonised ‘updaft’.  Maybe I’ll save them for another day / blog…

So what to do about all these daftness? Change my blonde ways? Feel hopeless and stupid?  Castigate and kick myself? I’ve tried all that – and plenty more besides, in the past.  But not yesterday.  Yesterday I told my friend about it and we cringed and we laughed.

I have thought about each instance of daftery and taken a lesson from it.  When it comes to taking the right path, now, unequivocally, I know my way home.  I also know that sometimes it is better to slide on your arse in the mud, than to follow your nose in the wrong direction…

But most of all I know I can be an adventurous, fearless risk taker when circumstances call for it and, as it turns out, quite a good at the long jump.

Ah ha! All part of being a transient goddess then…

Yours divinely and daftly

Sandie

Sandra Peachey – Transient Goddess, Writer and Long Jumper

You can contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching
* The Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-Factor. You can buy them both at Amazon (in paperback or Kindle) and all good book sites by clicking on the hyperlinks
* A 2015 International Book Awards Finalist, in the Women’s Issues Category
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award in 2013
* Someone shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, also nominated in 2012 & 2013; and
* Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award in 2015

 

How to Finish Writing Your Book…

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It’s a writer’s life for me, so I’m now working on book number 3… I’ve always wanted to write fiction and I’m currently creating my novel with the working title of ‘Seraph on an Island’ – the 1st of a trilogy, which is scary and exciting in equal measures…

When people ask how I finish a book, I explain that first of all, I start writing and then I keep going till it’s finished! The other thing I do is get support. I do this to motivate me to finish and to ensure that I create the best book ever. That’s why next month I’m doing a challenge to get it finished, along with other authors and writing experts. Writing can be a solitary experience – but that doesn’t work for me. Getting friendly and professional support does!!

My first book – ‘Peachey Letters’ wouldn’t have made the light of day if I hadn’t decided to work with the ‘Book Midwife’ – AKA Mindy Gibbins-Klein and her team. As a result I now have a book that I am incredibly proud of and which has got me the sort of exposure and PR opportunities I had literally only dreamt of before (clichéd but true!). At my book launch in London I told Mindy that she had made my dream of becoming published come true. It’s been an amazing experience.

Mindy now has a new programme for would be authors starting on 15th November. Is it time to join in and write YOUR best book? She has given me a special code just for my tribe, and if you use it, you will get all the support you need, plus a big bundle of bonuses too.

Click this link to find out more and if you have any questions about the programme or any of my books – just let me know. Happy Reading / Writing!

With warm regards,
Sandra

Sandra Peachey
Author, Coach and Consultant

You can Contact Me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:

* The award winning Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorYou can buy them both at Amazon by clicking on the highlighted titles / hyperlinks above, and at all good book sites around the globe.
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coachingfind out more here…
* As an International Book Awards Finalist – 2015, Women’s Issues Category
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award – 2013
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards – 2014, as well as being nominated in 2012 & 2013
* Also as being Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award – 2015…

My 80/20 Rule of Health(yish) Eating

80-20
It’s day 11 of Honey Lansdowne’s Month of Healthy eating posts and today I’m the guest blogger telling my story and sharing my 80/20 rule for nutrition.
You can get this blog and all the guest blogs sent to your email and also receive a free meditation download if you sign up at http://honeylansdowne.co.uk/healthy-eating-day-11-guest-blogger-sandra-peachey/

Yours healthily…
Sandra

Sandra Peachey
Author, Coach and Part-Time Doyen of Nutritional Virtuosity

You can Contact Me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:

* The award winning Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorYou can buy them both at Amazon by clicking on the highlighted titles / hyperlinks above, and at all good book sites around the globe.
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coachingfind out more here…
* As an International Book Awards Finalist – 2015, Women’s Issues Category
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award – 2013
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards – 2014, as well as being nominated in 2012 & 2013
* Also as being Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award – 2015…

The Necessity of Nooh Noohs

Life is a serious business, but it doesn’t have to be completely serious!  As a coach I’m now choosing to look at the lighter side of life and to ensure that I put in to life what I want to get out of it – love, laughter and learning…

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A blue ‘Nooh Nooh’
for a baby boy

One day I was shopping for Christmas presents and it occurred to me that I wanted to buy a gift for someone whose name I didn’t know and whose face I had never seen…

My friend was pregnant with a much longed for and cherished baby.  I was so happy for her and so excited to meet the little entity I had nicknamed ‘Boo’.  So as I was out shopping for gifts, it came to me that I wanted Boo to have a ‘Nooh Nooh’.  Now this may not be a word that you will find in the dictionary, but on some level I’m guessing you will be familiar with the concept: it’s baby speak for a comforter, or a soother – in this case something soft for my forthcoming friend to snuggle with in his sleep, as a reminder that he would always be safe and loved…

Now, Nooh Noohs manifest in many forms.  There are the obviously childlike blankies and teddy bears that people (of all ages may) have in their lives – to cuddle with and lose themselves in – for sweet, instinctual comfort.  Sometimes Nooh Noohs come in food form – chocolate is an occasional one of mine; and sometimes they are comforting custom and practice – the little routines that demarcate and sweeten our lives, that we may not even notice we indulge in.

A personal favourite of mine is a jumper.  It has a story, since I bought it in a sale, and being about 5 sizes too big, I immediately recognised its latent potential to become the perfect Nooh Nooh – in that at different times it is a coverall, or a kind of unofficial dressing gown, which I throw on over whatever I’m wearing and then it suddenly swathes me in pink, fluffy, and all-encompassing glory.  The pattern is hard to describe – think of a cross between the dark patches of a cow and pink poached eggs and you’ll get some idea of its ugly magnificence.  Yet I feel safe and comfortable in it, it keeps me warm, and when I don’t want to have to think about what to wear – it is there – ready and waiting to Nooh Nooh me to perfection.

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My ‘hideously brilliant’ jumper (apologies if you have the same model and feel differently about it!)

It’s usually a secret obsession that particular Nooh Nooh, yet I am very proud of the fact that the only time I wore it on a public occasion, I was told that it was ‘brilliantly hideous’.  I suppose it is stylistically, but then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so of course it is ravishingly attractive to me…

Whatever form they may take, Nooh Noohs don’t live in the realms of time, so your experience of them can be short and sweet or else deliciously long and drawn out.  One my own personal favourites is the hug – it’s a gorgeous shortcut of connection, that, without words, says so much: Including ‘I’m happy to see you’, ‘good bye beloved’, ‘thank you’, ‘I care’, ‘I want you close’ and whatever minute complexity is going in that unguarded, non-verbal moment of contact.

I grew up in a world that definitely had love in it, but not so much of the physical kind – with hugging and cuddling.  I seemed to belong to a family and lived through an era where once you ‘grew out of it’, hugging became a rare act, bestowed briefly on those relatives you loved, but rarely saw.

When I started on my personal development journey around about a decade ago – the constant greeting hugs were, at first, a bit of a culture shock, but then quickly became one of my favourite features of that world.  Again it goes to that shortcut mentality – that you share an openness and trust – because you have hugged through and transcended physical boundaries.

Now, outside of that world too, my observation is that ‘nowadays’ it seems to be more common currency.  Public Displays of Affection (PDAs), it seems, are most definitely on the up.  Physiologically this is all good for us – such ‘Nooh Nooh’ demonstrations can induce endorphins, lower the blood pressure and evoke an unconscious sense of bonding, security and comfort.

For many of us, animals are most definitely Nooh Noohs.  I have three cats and they are all a constant source of cuddles, contentment and uncomplicated company – I simply adore having them around.

And sometimes too, Nooh Noohs are people – those we seek out because they make us laugh, feel special, and lift our spirits. And the other side to this is that you can also be a Nooh Nooh to someone.  As someone who derives the greatest joy in supporting and making a difference to others, I’m fortunate – I know that I’m that Nooh Nooh for many people in my life – in both a personal and professional way– and that, for me, is always a source of great contentment.

For the Nooh Nooh to be all encompassing requires you to surrender and trust to the experience, so you can allow it to be completely comforting and comfortable.  This can sometimes make you feel vulnerable.  And sometimes this aspect is the shadow side to the denomination of Nooh Nooh-ness – where it is felt that your vulnerability has been misunderstood, rejected, ignored or violated…  This is why Nooh Noohs are so often a secret act of self cherishing love.

If you are a Nooh Nooh, then you have to be careful not to give too much of your supporting self away. Constantly giving can be draining, so you should always redress the balance and see your Nooh Nooh-ism in balance: To receive is replenishing – and giving and receiving therefore work best when they are in balance.  The good news is that we do not always have to give and receive from the same source and so, when we seek out and have enough Nooh Nooh-someness in our different worlds, then we have the fulsome resources to support us in our supporting, and giving back.

This then, is the nature of the Nooh Nooh and it is blissful.  I am therefore consciously raising its’ status to an elevated one – and I invite you to do the same – to recognise the Nooh Noohs all around you, in every way, shape or form and to seek them out, and then simultaneously exonerate / celebrate them.

So there are many gorgeously good reasons to have such physical manifestations of comfort and joy in your life and this is why I claim that you should consciously crave and seek them out.  They are the gift that keeps on giving and the wonderful thing, once you seek the Nooh Noohs in your life, is that you will, continually, find them…

Back then to my opening story of the unborn baby Boo.  His Nooh Nooh from me was waiting for him when he was born and now we have met, he is, most definitely my very own Nooh Nooh too.  This time karma has conspired in a tight and loving cycle.

And life moves on, so I might just remind him of the Nooh Nooh when he grows into a man, or I might just keep that thought – as a smug, smiling secret memory, all to myself.  Somehow, I know that gift has made a positive contribution to his world and the great thing about a Nooh Nooh – whether you are aware of it or not – is the way it makes you feel.

And the true test of a Nooh Nooh is that you feel good.

So create and cherish these marvellous manifestations of comfort and joy in your life. Acknowledge them, seek them out, and fully embrace being a Nooh Nooh too.

Time to climb back into my jumper then…

Yours lovingly
Sandra

Sandra Peachey
Author, Coach and Erstwhile Nooh Nooh

You can Contact Me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:

* The award winning Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorYou can buy them both at Amazon by clicking on the highlighted titles / hyperlinks above, and at all good book sites around the globe.
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coachingfind out more here…
* As an International Book Awards Finalist – 2015, Women’s Issues Category
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award – 2013
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards – 2014, as well as being nominated in 2012 & 2013
* Also as being Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award – 2015…

Coaching, Comedy and Cushions

Life is a serious business.  The world keeps turning with global, national and personal events adding to an internalised sense of doom. But enough! It’s time to start healing and move forward.

So I’m choosing to look at the lighter side of life, – to give me the energy to make the changes needed in me, then my world and the world beyond that.  To do this I have to start with what is on the inside first, and it could be that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been taking myself a little too seriously lately… This newest blog then is written with a deliberately light touch – in order to learn, laugh and most definitely have some FUN!

fun

Well in case you didn’t know, as well as being a coach, I’m a writer.  I’m a story teller and a creator. I pull words out of the ether, whirl them magically around in my mind, and then set my fingers to typing them, so to string them into sensitive, soulful sentences – straight onto the page and in straight lines too…

And before my luscious prose wafts you deliciously away, floating off on my wonderfully wanton words; I would like to share, that just occasionally, I’ve been known to disappear up my own author-ly arse…  Yes, pardon the poetic playfulness, but I’m literally in a funny mood (I’m thinking the ‘ha ha’ kind, but it could be ‘peculiar’ – you decide)…

My funny bone has been tickled by the fictions that I create – both consciously and unconsciously – so I’m pondering on the stories that I tell – about my chosen specialist subject – me.

I know a lot about me you see – I’ve spent a lot of lavish time contemplating me and getting to know me better.  And much as I know myself; so I often I don’t like myself – or my life.  As a result I started the conscious journey to change things up.  More like stir things up – it’s not so much that the difficulties go away, more that I just deal with them differently!  But I realise now that so much of what I am feeling is a fiction.  So as a story teller I’ve now decided to make it a funny fiction…

This is partly the fault of my Life Coach, Liz Ivory – whose cushioned couch I was sitting on recently.  Now as a coach myself, I have to walk the talk and go and get coached.  Yes – in order to dispense my divine wisdom and to help others learn about / get what they want from life – I’ve got to go through the same process too.  And believe me I do. Again and again…

As well as being a writer, I’m also a bit of an entertainer.  I’m creative all-rounder in fact, and one of the best forms of entertainment, as far as I can see – is being me.  And you may think, that as a coach I’m one of those smug, got together, thinks she ‘knows it all’s; when in fact I do all this navel gazing ‘nonsense’ first and foremost – for me. Myself. And I.  Because when it comes to life, it seems that I need to keep on learning about and laughing at its’ lessons.

Since I am constantly learning and re-learning, the temptation is to berate myself for not getting things right on either the first, third or 45th attempt; but, as Liz points out – you can’t expect to have just one bath and then be clean for life…

So when I’m not gazing at my navel in the bath of life, I’m watching my life.  And it’s both fascinating and absorbing, being my own spectator.   I mean, whose life could possibly be more interesting than mineMy thoughts, my progress, my problems all knitted together into the stringy, scratchy scarf of a selfish soap opera.  And then the latest episode ends by crashing into that old familiar theme tune…

Now, after stumbling through the latest life episodes, I get to sit it out and recount the omnibus highlights by bending the ear of the lovely Liz. And it all makes my coaching sessions so interesting… Well, interesting, for me any how – as I get to talk about me; recounting the latest serialised stories of me.

As the star (and editor in chief) of these particular dramas, I realise that what pulls us in to such good old fashioned soap operas is the story line.  We get hooked by the creative manipulations of a team of writers creating plot lines purposefully designed to inexorably hold our attention. But none of these professional plotters could possibly compete with the story lines that teem and throng through my own heated head.  I’m the biggest and the best story teller of all.

In the TV of my mind I’ve been watching the story of my life, and weaving the plots of my path into the addictive dirge of a soap opera.  And in doing so I’ve been interpreting conversations and machinations into a relentless weepie.  But it’s time to press pause and reinterpret all this – I don’t even enjoy soap operas – so why the hell am I being one?!  Yup – cliché alertit’s time to re-write the story

So back on the coach’s cushioned couch I get some commentary from Liz on the latest life episodes I’ve regaled her with and then we work together on what to do next.  Two coaches, one couch, and the end result that she comes up with is that I should have more fun.  Fun she says. Fun? Fun!

Why fun? For a start it’s an antidote to the serious, serialised soap operas that I have running on repeated loop in my spectator brain, (just like that Plus One Freeview Channel tucked away at number 538 on the Guide).  And fun is such a puny, insignificant little word if you count up its letters, but it’s packed with big significance – as it frees you from feeling sorry for yourself and gives you a break from the darkly plotted serialisations that can run on repeat in your brain.

But fun – really??? “Nope – not sure I can do that”, my serially repeating brain says. “I have neither the time, energy nor inclination for it”.

But Liz will not leave it there.  Not only should I have more fun, but being a writer I should write about it.  In fact Liz has a whole huge heap of ideas she has decided need writing / righting by me…

She has so many ideas in fact, that my first thought was to go home – pack my laptop and a toothbrush, then return to that same spot in the corner of Liz’s lounge for maybe the next 5 years, churning out the various projects she has dreamt up for me.  So now it’s not a soap opera that I’m writing, but a Sit Com, then a funny fairy story for little kids, next a book for teenagers, and not least a novel to take care of the adult audience. That will take me to next Tuesday then… And she tells me that I’m the creative one..!

So we laughed, me and Liz.  We laughed a lot in that room with the cushions.  And the laughter freed my thoughts.  Suddenly the story changed and I remembered that I had forgotten – that actually, ‘I’m already having fun thank you very much Liz – I’ll have my fee back now – clever clogs coach’. And I had proof of the fact – ‘nerr and yaboo sucks to you’!

I get my mobile phone out and show Liz a picture.  It’s of me and a beautiful two year old boy.  His name is Isaac and he is the son of one of my closest friends.  For all sorts of reasons (therein could be many more blogs) I’m happily besotted with him.  His mum – Vickie, had bought him over to spend the day and it had somehow ended up in my garden, with a football that I had just bought, along with various other aunt-erly treats…

Now normally football would be far from my unsporting, sedentary thoughts; but Isaac has this gorgeous way of completely changing the game for me – yuh huh – pun completely intended…  So the football got kicked about and somehow I became the goal and every time Isaac scored, we celebrated.  In fact the only way, as I saw it, to do such triumphal / continual victory justice, was to roll over onto my back, pedal my legs frantically in the air and yell ‘goal!!!’

I’m delighted to say that Isaac agreed with me, and he imitated me, and we laughed – a lot.  Then we did it again.  And again.  Then he clambered into my lap and we did it together.  “Again” he said.  So we two rolled over and kicked up.  I could feel the physical effort pulling at my stomach muscles, but I didn’t care.  Who needs to do crunches to get abs of steel, when you have your own mini motivator, effortlessly turning your sloth into smiles?

And there on my phone, as I showed Liz, was a picture to prove it.  She could see easily, that my footballing nemesis and me were laughing, shining and flushed with the fun of it all…

And now I think on it, it’s not the only time recently that I’ve had fun / laughed / giggled and guffawed. This includes the brilliantly random conversation I had with my friends Nicola and Richard, who were recounting that one asked the other to scratch her back, and it came out as ‘will you brush my beef please?’…   Well… before we knew it we were coming up with more and more similar sayings, each one sounding more and more like the missing dialogue from a Carry On film – until the point someone came out with ‘dust my duck’ and then the dam broke – we just lost it to the point that all I could do was cry with laughter and stamp my feet with happy hysteria!

Ah – but I’d missed out those episodes of light relief in the sinister serialisation of the story. I’d simply forgotten that life is made up of both soap operas and sit coms.  And look – here is pictorial evidence of me joking around and having fun – yet again!

Fun 1 crop
There I go, just a few days ago: Having good old fashioned, un-self- conscious fun – again!

Ah – so that plot line was there all the time, ‘playing out’ in every way, so now – it’s time for the story I’m telling myself – to change

Now I’m sorry Liz, but see you – I’m stubborn – you know how much I like to do things on my own terms; so much as I’ve decided to buy into this new comical box set and re-write the serial, I have to do it – like Frank said – my way, and write a Blog Com instead of a Sit Com – so there.  And off the ‘soap’ box I will climb…

And there you have it – I’m re-writing my life and it’s a divine comedy… Yup – I’m disappearing up that author-ly arse again…

Laugh? I did it by wrote.

Boom!

With love, laughter and a cushion.
  from Sandie xx
Sandra Peachey
Transient Goddess, Coach and Story Teller

You can Contact Me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:

* The award winning Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-FactorYou can buy them both at Amazon by clicking on the highlighted titles / hyperlinks above, and at all good book sites around the globe.
* The Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coachingfind out more here…
* As an International Book Awards Finalist – 2015, Women’s Issues Category
* The Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award – 2013
* As being shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards – 2014, as well as being nominated in 2012 & 2013
* Also as being Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award – 2015…