The Gorgeousness of Grace

graceSo I’m the Transient Goddess – a divine feminine being, beset by having mortal attributes – not least a feeling lately that I’ve been a bad girl – one who is spitting and snarling at life, rather than sailing gracefully through it…

The weather coerces to my mortal mood… There’s a sense of oppression. The grey skies are threatening rain, but not giving it up.  A ‘close’ heavy feeling weighs the air down, as if brewing for a fight, but deciding to sulk instead…

Whilst I welcome sunshine, this has merely been heat and cloud fuming constantly above my head – promising retribution and relief in the form of storm, but never then delivering…

And on and on…  The heat fracturing my nights and slicing into my purring dreams; inducing sweaty sleeplessness with wild, whirring thoughts.

Exhausted, I’ve been waiting for the dark clouds above my head and the wispy ones inside it, to dissipate. And although I can incline to the divine, I cannot control the weather and so have had to wait for the storm to start.  Internally the clouds were slight and so I could blow them away with reason, but then they would return – to obfuscate and implicate, so to slyly play hide and seek with the sun.

All this in my favourite summer season and my favoured months of the year – June, the anniversary of my birth – blessed by the gorgeous zenith of summer, with the sweetest days and longest nights; then flowing sinuously into July.

It’s a good time for me – I have lots of work, with income that gives me some sense of security and freedom.  I’ve passed through a difficult time in my life, weighed down with health issues and hormones and I’ve come out of the other side smiling and ready to move into new moon phases in my long loved life.

I’m setting out on new adventures, and this requires zest, organisation and energy; but somehow these are all lacking and all the work and all the relentless heat is sapping my strength. Everything seems to be taking too long to work through.  It doesn’t sit well with natural impatience…

I want to conserve my energy, quell / heal my emotions and keep myself to myself, (except with those I love and trust) and yet, there are skirmishes across the border of my ordered existence.  There are people who have the temerity to cross swords with me…  [Irony alert]Don’t you know who I am?!

So the smile has been wiped off my figurative face as I’ve reacted to – as I see it – being stalked, the victim of road rage, the object of disagreements, and being verbally attacked… Which means that I’ve been tripping on, rather than skipping over, the road of life.

Apparently, so the Law of Attraction states, we manifest these things into our existence: That as we emit an energy, so we attract equal energy back…

But this is a counter-intuitive enmity for me – I thought I’d been smiling, carefully guarding my walls and playing nice, so why has all this been coming at me..?

Firstly I recognise that I am tired and not feeling in the best of health – it means that I don’t have such a deep well of cool sanity to cushion me.  Defensiveness and self-pity can flare up easily, so I have to be aware of that and so I have chosen to slow down and give my brain and body a rest.

Without the fundamental well spring of conscious self-care – all the daily acts of meditation and heart felt consciousness have not spared me from periods of falling into fear, anger and attack mode; as my boundaries have been breached and my wishes – stated and silent – seemingly violated.  Then tears have spilled, words been vomited and thoughts run ragged, racing after relentless emotions…

And I could bore you with the intimate details of each incident, but I shan’t.  Fundamentally I’ve decided to let go of any issue of rights and wrongs and decide that there aren’t any. I want too, to make sense of what is going on and show myself and whoever is reading this, that there is absolutely no need to be either an aggressor or a victim; and instead every reason to learn from, rather just react to whatever is going on – in and around us.

First of all I want to say – choose not to be an aggressor.  And you may well say, ‘Who, me? Doesn’t apply’… And without judgement – if these words prick at you in any sense, then you’ll know… that time you went against someone’s wishes, blared that horn, crossed a line… None of us are perfect, but let’s start with being more aware of the words and actions that we put out there, along with their cause and effect.

If you find that someone is coming at you, then I say – do not respond in kind.  Breath deep – wait a moment, then a minute and then more minutes, hours, or however long it takes to let the adrenaline subside and your reason kick in.  And I mean ‘real’ reason here – the sense that provides sane, well-formed and chosen thoughts – not the bullets of angry reason that can create all sorts of factoids that backs up your sense of victimhood / right / etc., etc.

This single act of waiting and choosing is certainly one of the most powerfully successful ones I deploy if I feel an emotional reaction to a situation.  When I don’t do it, and go into react mode, the consequences are nearly always disastrous.  I have to remind myself instead that this strategy is not a weak act of retreat, but rather a strong tactical advantage – choosing slow, permanent resolution rather than quick, unsatisfactory retribution.

Sometimes we are in genuine or perceived danger and it may be that we have to take steps to safeguard ourselves and retreat to safety.  Do thatDon’t attack.  Move on and away.

Have some compassion for the other party.  Yes – you heard me correctly – have some compassion for whatever it is that they are going through.  An incident or a lifetime of behaviours and happenings has led them to this contradictory point where they are clashing with you.

Now decide that someone else’s bad day / life does not have to be yours and choose to let it go.  Talk it through with someone, write yourself a note, have a chunk of chocolate or whatever it takes – do this gently and consciously, so you can start to move on.

Know that you have responsibility for whatever is going on. Maybe you caused / manifested and maybe you didn’t – but you can now decide how to handle it and that includes asking for and giving unconditional forgiveness, so you can start to wash your psyche clean.

In terms of how to handle such situations, my go to attribute at times like this is grace.  I choose to let it percolate my conscious dealings – especially in tricky situations, disagreements or separations…

It’s a beautiful quality and has various permutations, so let me look to the wonders of Google and the Oxford English Dictionary to elucidate:

Meaning 1 – Smoothness and elegance of movement:
The smoothness of slowing down and being sweetly elegant in my dealings. It’s definitely what I aspire to… 

Meaning 2 – Courteous good will:
This takes good will and the willingness to be considerate of yourself and those around you, to a whole new, delicious level.  ‘Courteous’ good will is a sweet blend of the considerate and deliberate.

This is further elucidated by the dictionary as ‘An attractively polite manner of behaving’.  Yes, we’ve all met ugly politeness – but how about a heartfelt decision to behave ‘attractively’? I’ll embrace that.

Meaning 3 – (In Christian belief) the free and unmerited favour of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings:
Regardless of religious belief, there have been times when I felt more sinned against than sinner, but I have been a sinner; so yes, I will allow for the beauty of blessings and choose to count them, in order to see the light and to free both my ego and me.

Meaning 4: A divinely given talent or blessing:
Grace is definitely becoming my favoured super power – something I have the capacity for and can nurture to fabulous infinity. 

Meaning 5 – The condition or fact of being favoured by someone:
How about forgetting rights and wrongs and seeing both sides of a possibly angry equation, instead?  Favour the fact that you choose to rise above ego, and decide that the best outcome is the one that produces the greatest universal good: not that either side wins or loses. This is a real act of grace.

Meaning 6 – A period officially allowed for payment / compliance, especially granted as a special favour:
So instead of acting in the angry moment, take stock, and give yourself a period of grace – in order to move on – allowing resolution, not destruction.

And all of these layers of meaning grow into the utter gorgeousness of grace – sweet, strong and beautiful in its simplicity.  When grace becomes implicit and complicit in our feelings and dealings, it can become a bountiful byword for our behaviour.

So finally – by manifestation, magic and weather vane – the storm broke today…  Lightening flashed and illuminated, then thunder growled its’ refreshing release of rain.  The heat dissipated and the rain lavished down in sweet, fat droplets – feeding the soil / soul and washing the streets clean. This rain is both a blessing and a benediction.  It’s a sign that it’s time to let go of any lingering darkness – my world is ready for a graceful new start.  The air and sky have cleared and now the air is filled with rampant birdsong – chorusing in a new sweet phase of delicious days and boundless possibilities ahead…

In best cliché speak, it’s time to let the clouds fly by and for the sun to shine through again.  Yes – it really is most definitely time to favour grace…

Suddenly I see the enmity I’ve been experiencing as a message.  It is clearly time for my walls to be knocked down, and to ignore all borders and invisible boundaries.  In doing so I can travel freely, with out swords and skirmishes. 

And so it is, sweetly – that I’m a bad girl gone good…

Yours, gracefully / graciously (of course)
   from Sandra
Sandra Peachey
Transient Goddess, Coach and Author

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-Factor.  You 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 & Coaching – find 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…

Europe: To Leave, Loathe or Love?

Love loathe

On the morning of Friday 24 June 2016, I was awakened by my clock radio, announcing in self consciously stentorian tones that “Britain has voted to leave the European Union.”

Normally slow to rouse to daylight consciousness, that announcement certainly woke me up quick smart. “No” I yelled at the radio. “No, no, no!!!”

I had thought that it would be a close run thing, but that we would remain.  Yet the electorate had chosen otherwise…

It was a shock to the system.  Not what I had chosen.  An unwanted and unwarranted change forced upon me.

I felt many things… Fear, anger, grieving, and guilt… I never spoke out publically about my own views that Britain should remain in the EU.  In amongst all my friends and acquaintances, only one person close to me was openly choosing to Leave. I wished now that I had tried to persuade them otherwise and that I had spoken out on social media and swayed may be one vote – or a thousand.  But I decided not to get involved.  I knew my mind was made up, I assumed I knew the outcome… so I stayed out of it.  But now it is done, I’m moved to write in order to make sense of it all.

My own choice to remain comes partly from a Quixotic, confused lineage and life loved…

My mother was Scottish.  She had ancestors from the Shetland isles and all across that land. She had English and Irish ancestors thrown in for good measure too and lived most of her life in England; yet if you asked her about nationality – she most definitely set herself apart with her born identity.  It was her father had decided that he, his wife and 18 year old daughter should leave Scotland though and she always felt that this was a change that was forced on her.

My father was born in the fens of Cambridgeshire.  His surname came from the Norman invaders of this island and his father’s family had farmed the land for countless generations.  He was always solidly anchored to the ground.  His mother however, came from a travellers family, with a diverse background, including Welsh and Romany affinities and this strand has given myself and several of my relatives, very itchy travelling feet…

And so my genetic smoothie means that I am a mild mongrel, but most definitely a British one.

I grew up and played with children whose parents had bought them to these British shores to live, learn and earn. I had Indian, Italian, Irish, Scottish and Jamaican neighbours and regardless of genetics, as the children of diverse origin – we played the same games that all children play.  We laughed in gardens, we imagined in parks, we sat sedately in sheds, creating clubs and secret societies that we all belonged to.

My parents were involved in an ideological movement called Moral Re-Armament (now morphed into Seeds of Change), so from babyhood I was wheeled off to conference centres around the country to meet people from all over the world.  As a teenager I spent my summers volunteering in their kitchens, feeding armies of people from all over the globe who wanted to change the world for good.  I met so many nationalities from so many corners of the earth. I had room mates from Germany one week, South Africa the next, then Canada and so on and etc…

We talked over dinner and wandered around ornate gardens and in doing so I heard so many stories which showed me that where people really come together in positive, united purpose, then a life, family or community could change for the better.

I’ve worked for multi-national corporations and had to manage global intricacies and misunderstandings many times over. I’ve been yelled at by American managers, berated by Portuguese compatriots and huffed at by Indian colleagues because of unseen and newly chartered cultural differences – on both sides.  I’ve negotiated with and canvassed French, Spanish, Polish, Canadian offices and officials – and more besides, over and again.  And at times all this was irritating, but mainly it was fascinating.

My global idealism has meant that over the years I’ve had friends of many nationalities. Two of my very closest friends are Indian in origin. Several of my other friends, who come from European countries, said that it was rare that they had British compadres – that the opportunities to bond and create cross national friendships just didn’t happen.  I was always jarred by that thought.  I have always welcomed the windows that are opened into my knowledge by having a diverse circle around me.  It makes me more open, it gives me perspective and so I embrace it.

I don’t always understand where my friends are coming from, but still I get to enjoy the discussions which investigate and celebrate our differences.

I have always believed in diversity and the wealth of expanded knowledge and points of view that goes with it.  I do not always enjoy being challenged, but I allow myself to be and so I consider all points of view, whilst still having my own very strong ones. I strongly believe in community and coming together – together is most definitely stronger in my book.  I believe in inclusivity for all and yet I believe in individuality and creativity too.  The sort of success I enjoy is built on mutual support, love and team work.

I will, innately trust most people, but I will also remove that trust suddenly and sharply if I feel I’m being attacked or threatened in any way, including verbally.

And when it comes back to who I am, here and now, I can’t give you a simple definition, so I’ll present you with a list instead:
* I’m a citizen of the world – and I couldn’t give a toss if that sounds like a cliché.
* I’m European and always will be. That’s regardless of any political technicalities.
* I live in the United Kingdom.  The united part of that is important.  That may change…
* I’m British. On my passport and in many – but not all, forms of belief and behaviour.
* I’m English. Born here, live here. It informs who I am, but is not the whole picture.
* I’m Scottish.  Less than 50% as it happens, but it is part of who I am too.
One day, if Scotland separates from the UK, it may be that I could choose, having a Scottish parent – to have Scottish nationality. It’s a strange thought. It’s also a consideration…

And some of the items on this list are bureaucratic labels and some are choices…

But enough now of all my woolly liberalising!

I have to deal with the facts as they are:  I’m a grown up. I live in a democracy.  A majority of voters have voted to leave the European Union.  Whilst I felt that I had no choice about this change, I DO actually have a choice here – to bemoan and berate and beat my chest, or to accept what has happened, and make my peace with it.

I’m not a politician or an economic forecaster and I don’t know how this will all pan out.  But it is happening. It will be moved on, worked through and worked out.  It will have pros and it will have cons.  My feeling discombobulated or shouting and pouting it will not change anything.  I’ve weathered the fear of change before and I’m still standing, so I will again.

I’ve decided that I can be sad for a while and then let it go and choose to move on with what ever comes. It won’t necessarily be a smooth journey from here on in, but I’m going to suck it up and accept it, anyway – whilst in all honesty – most probably having a quiet moan about it…

I won’t let it affect how I behave or treat other people. That some are apparently perpetrating acts of racism and hatred on the back of this vote is an outrage.  I choose to believe that this is a mere minority, out to get media coverage, incite others and using this only as an excuse to profligate their vile acts of violence. There are such people in every corner of the world. The referendum result has not caused or allowed this, it is simply the warped choice of some who choose to act in hatred and bile.

I choose to influence what and who I can in my own sphere and let the bureaucrats and politicians in the system work out the paper bound aspects of my existence.  Somehow, out of all this rank confusion, they will.  They have to.

Ultimately I will take responsibility.  I live in this country.  I vote. I’m part of the system.  I know that I have actively been seeking change in my life for some time now and sometimes that has been painful, joyful or interesting… So change has come, not in the way I envisaged, but I am responsible for the result, regardless. My response is a choice. If I take that stance I am strong – not victimised and not looking at my fellow man and judging him because he doesn’t see things my way.

The world is changing and I can fight that or I can work with it.  Many people I know are seeing this as a new opportunity and embracing a new wave, whether they voted to Leave or Remain.  I respect that positivism and I see it as a way forward – a way to reassess and reinvent.

I don’t want to lose friendships and relationships with people and countries I love because we are no longer connected by the stars on the EU flag, so that choice is made.  This just means that I will continue with my individual connections and collaborations, which is more important to me, any way.

For the time being I’m deliberately avoiding all the post election hoo-ha, ranters and haters, and siding with those who provide considered, quiet counsel.  I can choose that too.  I am having my say now and I trust that this touches you too, if you are reading this, where ever and who ever you are and where so ever you are from.

A couple of days ago, my French friend Claire texted me: “I’m packing my bags” she said.
“They won’t let you back in” I replied, “you’ve been away too long.”  It was a small smile, but an important one – what ever is going on in the world, we get to choose irony, laughter and friendship too…

So I’ve chosen again and I know I will have to keep doing so.  This choice is not a one off act of reaction. One blog isn’t going to change me or the world.  But it will certainly support my stance and remind me of the true nature of being English / Scottish / European and (you’ve guessed it), most importantly of all, of being myself.

With love, laughter and learning,
   from Sandra
Sandra Peachey
European Mongrel, Transient Goddess, Coach and Author

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-Factor.  You 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 & Coaching – find 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…

 

 

 

Birthday Girl Blog: Life Lessons & Blessings

Birthday GirlIt’s my birthday today.

It’s another year since I emerged from the womb to the outside world.

As a life so far it has been both ordinary and extraordinary.
Happy and sad.
Full of laughter and sadness.
There have been triumphs and there have been tears.

I’ve lived alone and in crowds.
I’ve read, loved and sweated.
I’ve laboured and slept.
My heart has beat and I have breathed many, many times over.

I have inhabited the maelstrom of thought and feeling – keeping me blocked and shocked. Then I have flown above it too – arching and changing its direction to rainbow roundness. I did this for me, selfishly, then as it turns out selflessly.
For I realised it would be the greatest gift I could give.

I have shared my words and harboured my secrets.
I have been sweet and I have been evil.
I have helpful and I have been obstructive.
Yes, I have been both friend and foe.

Sometimes I have learnt and sometimes forgotten who I am and what the world is. But today I remember that what I have learnt are these few things and I want to share them with you:
* Celebrate what you have and give gratitude.
* Spend time with people who really know and love you. And I mean really
* Ask for, receive and give support. Keep asking and keep giving.
* Have a sense of love and purpose, not a sense of duty.
* Moan, if you must – let it out, and then move on. Don’t harbour the moths of hate, anger or regret.
* Sometimes you have to wait for the answer, and sometimes it hits you like a thunderbolt.  But there will be an answer.
* Have trust and faith, but don’t invoke them lazily and in isolation – use them to spur you on to inspired action to move you deliciously forward.
* If it’s not working – mend it or change it.
When life seems unfair, or you are physically and mentally unwell, take stock and then good care of yourself.
* Take and give responsibility from a universal perspective, not your own – do not blame.
* Always forgive – starting with yourself first and then radiate it outwards. Forgiveness is your divine gift and super power.
* Remember that your ego is not you, therefore don’t involve it in your life.
* You can choose – even when you feel you can’t.  Instead choose what you would choose and then, magically, you have chosen…
* Trust your intuition – it is up made of components of pragmatism and magic that you could never really conceive or get to the bottom of; yet in its purest, clearest personification, it will always show you the way, if not the how.

I’m climbing down from the pulpit now to indulge my senses, rest, celebrate and spend time with people I love.

Happy Birthday.  Happy Day.  Happy Life – today and tomorrow and on every non-birthday day…

With love, laughter and learning.

S xx

From: Sandra – Transient Goddess, Coach and Author

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-Factor.  You 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 & Coaching – find 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…

A Write Update & Upcoming Events

Author Update BannerHaving last penned an author’s update at Christmas, it definitely feels like time to regale my readers with the newest chapters in my author-ly world…

So I’ll start with a reminiscence – when I signed into Facebook this morning, it reminded me that 12 months ago, I’d just received an email tell me that my first book Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life was honoured as finalist in the International Book Awards.  It was a message that I had completely ignored, until my publisher got in touch to congratulate me – bless…

And whilst I have been working on new projects since that book was published (more of that later…), I’m delighted to say that Peachey Letters still has a life of its own.  In fact the book and I are staging a ‘comeback tour’, which kicks off with a Meet the Author event next month.

It’s all happening on Tuesday the 7th of June at The Amethyst Centre in Coventry and will be a relaxed lunch time event, where I will first be interviewed by the Centre’s proprietor – Chris Ramsbottom-Pampling, and then we will throw the floor open to audience questions, whilst simultaneously tucking into a buffet lunch (strawberries and cream have been promised, which for me, makes it worth the £10.00 ticket price alone!).

Together we’ll be exploring the writing process and the therapeutic properties of letter writing, as well as diving deeper into the book for more insights, so I really look forward to you joining us and to finding out more about the Amethyst Holistic centre too.  You can get your tickets by clicking on this link…

As for my other author-ly projects: In February – the fourth anniversary of my Peachey Letters Blog, I set myself a new challenge – to write and publish a new post every day for a month. Of course I had to pick a bloomin’ leap year so that February had an extra day, but then again, I did meet the challenge 😉

What came out was not only ‘Peachey Letters’, offering coach-ly insights into life and learning, but also a lot of fiction posts.  In fact I was trying out material for my very first novel. Set in the ‘magical realism’ genre, under the working title of ‘Seraph on an Island’, it goes on the life journey of an ordinary woman, who has the extraordinary gift of flying, or then again, maybe imagines that she has…

Set in the 1970s, it is a tale both gritty and fantastical, contrasting a difficult life with flights of fantasy, leaving you wondering if what the heroine experiences, is really real.  If you are intrigued by the premise, please check out the fiction posts on my blog and let me know what you think, this link will take you there direct.

My non-fiction ‘Peachey Letters’ posts have evolved and transmuted in a new persona and style – which has a new identity to go with it.  My new ‘Transient Goddess’ posts, track the life and learning of someone who is both flawed and perfect, laughing, analysing and finding her way forward.  That’ll be me, referring to myself here in the third person, but in my writing – most definitely in the first!

When I’m not bashing away at my laptop, I’m out and about supporting my coaching and corporate clients.  Currently I’m working with a charity called Circles Network – who provide a range of support programmes for vulnerable children and adults.  It’s a fascinating organisation, which lists person centred support, advocacy and equine assisted learning amongst its range of support services.

I’m therefore delighted to invite you to their summer fund raising ball, being held on Saturday 25th June at Coombe Abbey Hotel near Coventry.  This means that you get the opportunity to support an excellent cause, whilst wining, dining and dancing the night away in gorgeous surroundings, all for the price of £50.  If you would like to know more and buy your tickets, then check out the details here.

Well, that concludes the latest chapters in the writing life of a Transient Goddess – thank you for being on this page with me.  If you are curious about my coaching work and what a difference it will make to your life or business, or want to know more about my writing, then please do get in touch – you can contact me here…

With warm regards
      Sandra
Sandra Peachey

LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching
Email: sandra@sandrapeachey.co.uk

* Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-Factor
* Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award 2013
* Shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, nominated in 2012 & 2013
* Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award 2015
* International Book Awards Finalist 2015, Women’s Issues Category

Life In the Blonde Lane

Under my new guise as ‘The Transient Goddess’, I’m looking at life in my own happily skewed way… I’m a professional and practical person who had worked for many years in senior Human Resources roles, before deciding to direct a life time of learning into the new direction of being a Life and Business Coach.  It’s a marvellous match and something I was clearly born to do… And this for me, is partly because I don’t quite have it all sorted, in every moment.  In fact I can be quite scatty, and am definitely ditzy – and, as it turns out, I was born a blonde.  I define blonde by being fair of hair and complexion, as well as (for me) daftly delightful… Well that is when I’m being kind to myself, which often, as it goes – I’m not.  So my Transient Goddess blogs are written to work out this ditzy dichotomy and to keep my learning constantly fresh.  And as it happens – today’s post actually happened today

Goddess 2

LIFE IN THE BLONDE LANE

In real time writing mode – it’s Bank Holiday Monday in the UK (a National Holiday) and because of that I’ve just come through a misadventure which I will now recount for you…

I had arranged to go on an organised walk somewhere near Stratford today and although I usually rush ‘hell for leather’ because I am late; for a change I had given myself lots of lovely time to get there, park up, find the walking group etc., instead.

However, I get close to my destination and realise that I am stuck in traffic which is queuing to get INTO my destination…

After watching all my spare time tick away until 15 minutes after the start time of the walk, I give up and drive towards Stratford. Yes – I know it’s the home of Shakespeare and a tourist mecca, and I drive there knowing it will be Bank Holiday crazy, but hey – I’m out of the house now and wanna make something of it.

My normal quiet car park on the edge of town has cars queuing out of it, so I decide to give up on the whole mooching round town idea; instead I attempt to make my way home and am now stuck in the Stratford traffic. And I mean STUCK. I get out of town eventually, but then have to skirt back round it again (to pick up the route home), when, inadvertently I come across a tucked away car park with no queue.  I can now avoid the traffic and go back to Plan B!

I drive in to the multi-storey space, all the while scanning for a space, until my car has climbed 7 stories.  Finally I find a space – Hallelujah! I note that an hour will cost £3.00 and I head off into town thinking I must go to the bank as I only have £8.00 in my purse.

Despite a dour weather forecast, the sun is shining and I am pleased with my decision.  So are the hordes of other people who have also descended on the town centre.  On the way to the bank I literally get pushed by the crowds into an Oxfam Charity Shop. I’m happy to go with the flow though, so have a very thorough tooth comb browse and am rewarded by finding the most gorgeous black and silver top.  I try it on and it fits like a dream. It is a mere £3.99 so I decide to buy it, along with a (soppy flick chick) DVD for £1.99.

Happy with my purchases I cross the road to get money out of my bank’s cash point. I suddenly have a slight qualm as I wonder if any money will be left in the bank’s coffers on such a busy national holiday; but no, the machine IS working and greedily sucks in my cash card.

Then I am informed by a blandly officious computer screen that I have ‘insufficient funds to make a withdrawal’ and my card is unceremoniously spat out. I try again 3 more times, decreasing the amount until at a request of a mere £10.00, I am still refused cash.

I sit down on a bench and look at the crowds around me to ponder my options. “It’s OK” I think, “I’ll get in touch with the bank”. I get out my mobile – first to make a call and then to go online.  There is, however, no phone signal and neither is there fast and functional wifi…

Starting to segue in to panic mode, I count out the change in my purse. I have £2.65. I need £3.00 to exit the car park… My brain ticks over as I ponder my options.  Decision made – I cross the road back to the Oxfam shop and explain my predicament and that I just need to return the DVD…

‘No can do’ I am told. The ‘system’ will not accept refunds for a DVD bought only 10 minutes ago. It will how ever refund any clothing items.

I take a quick, sad decision and then I hand back the beautiful, black and silver, diaphanous top, with moist eyes (due, obviously to STRESS, rather than the thwarting of my materialistic atavism…).

The kindly lady behind the till suggests that she could ‘put it by’ for a week, but I have a busy week ahead and I know I won’t be going back there in that time. I fill out the paperwork and release the garment back to the shop.  Money is handed over.

The top and I then part a sad farewell for our unfulfilled future together…

I turn and walk quickly away to the car park and pray that I have not exceeded an hour and hence the money left in my meagre purse. It is an NCP car park – but I cannot find a machine to pay my fee. Puzzled by this, I walk up 7 flights of stairs to get my car and drive the zig-zag route to the outside. All the way down I look out for instructions of how and where to pay. There are none. I now worry that I will have to pay on the way out and will hold people up if I don’t have enough cash in place because I’ve now exceeded the magical £3.00 hour…

In mild panic I then drive back up to the 7th level (because that is the only place there is a space) and then run back down to check out the payment situation. Finally I discover at the exit that you pay a cashier upon leaving… How quaint… I hare back up to the 7th level and zig-zag my car back down to the exit barrier.

I hand over my ticket and the cashier announces that the fee is £3.00 – I made it!!!

It takes me another 15 / 20 minutes to negotiate through the heavy traffic.  Finally, after all this kerfuffle, I’m away from the town and speeding along the dual carriageway which will take another 30 minutes to get me home.

At this point my brain calms down and then catches up with my situation. Now I that think about, I know that I have PLENTY of money in the bank – so WHAT is going on? I budget carefully and check my account regularly… So have I inadvertently spent it or has it been stolen??? The journey home seems to take for ever…

Finally I reach my street and park up.  I dash into the house, telephone my bank and the exact amount of money I thought I had in my account, IS in my account. I have no payments due that would eat up the amount.  Rather than having ‘insufficient funds’, it turns out that in fact I had more than sufficient monies in place, so it must have been a random banking error or just ‘one of those things’…

So… whilst I was in the midst of this maelstrom of a minor ‘adventure’, I kept chanting a favourite (self invented) mantra to myself, which was: ‘stay calm, it will all be handled’.  I repeated those words to myself and trusted that it would all be resolved.  And so it was…

And of course, now with the benefit of hindsight, it’s actually really FUNNY…

Hum… You know, may be that top and I just weren’t destined for each other and it will have another, happier life with someone else… There may be other tops in my future – just as sheer and pretty that would make me look and feel as fabulous… But, and I know it’s a big but… If any of my Stratford friends wish to stroll past Oxfam and purchase a size 12 black chiffon and silver decorated top, and then pass it back my way… I might just love them for ever… Yes – I can live with out it, but oh, it WAS lovely…

And still I’m left with the dratted DVD of ‘Love & Other Drugs’ that Oxfam would not let me return.  All I’m saying is, that it had better be GOOD, since THAT is how I will be spending what’s left of my Bank Holiday!  Well that and writing a blog of course…

So my mantra saved the day.  And I’m reminded that I am both ditzy and as it turns out, incredibly resourceful.  And last, although certainly not least – I remembered to celebrate and learn… again

“It will all be handled… Just Trust…”

Here’s to a Happy Blonde Bank Holiday…

From: Sandra – Transient Goddess, Coach and Author

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-Factor.  You 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 & Coaching – find 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 Magnificence of Mistakes

I’m evolving… Having been the proponent of the Peachey Letters Blog for four years now, I find that my writerly maunderings often form a pattern of starting with a confessional release about an issue that I am finding difficult or painful.  It’s as if I’m a client on my very own coaching ‘couch’ unburdening the psycho-emotional load.  Then having laid it bare, I proceed to coach myself through the lessons to be learnt and also to resolution.  The process takes me through from earth bound protagonist in my own stories of life, through to the ‘all seeing eye’ that I then become – being the narrator and navigator – steering me on a path of enlightenment.  It is a process which is both vulnerable and victorious, and so to go with the flow I’ve come up with a new nom de plume that reflects the journey.  These new blogs will be under the aegis of ‘The Transient Goddess’ – a creature both earthbound and divine – switching between psyches and working my way through the lessons of life…

mistake

The Magnificence of Mistakes

Ah the games that the ego plays…  Mine was recently playing a stealthy game of hide and seek.  First it was craving attention and so wanting positive validation; then suddenly it wanted to hide, and in doing so to turn me into a her hermit – a mad witchy creature sitting alone in my dark she cave, abstractedly knitting up quiet comfort in order to warm me from the draughty distractions of the outside world.

And sometimes the very best thing for us is to roll a big boulder across the mouth of the cave so we can help and heal ourselves and our souls, but then again, we all have to live and move through the big bad outside world much of the time too.

Recently though I realised that I had felt like hiding, because I seemed to be making so many mistakes, errors and wrong decisions.  It felt as if, that in nearly every hour of every day I got something wrong.  I broke something.  I forgot something.  I misunderstood something.

I would be innocently tripping along through life, breathing and doing and getting on with things, when suddenly I was pulled up sharp – winded by the internal or external realisation that I had fucked up – yet again.

I hate fucking up! Internally I am an innate perfectionist who loves nothing better than to get things right.  But this trait somehow makes me a fraud, because externally I so often get the feedback that I am laconic, laissez-faire and laid back… Oh – if only!  It really could be a classic case of the elegant swan apparently gliding gently across the water – who is actually being propelled by frantic pedalling below the surface and against the current.

Well, I’ve decided to stop silently pedalling and to out myself, rather than waddle wetly back to my cave to smooth down my ruffled feathers.

You see the muck ups, messes and muddles got so bad that I resorted to joking that the only illogically logical explanation was that there was an invisible gremlin riding my back – causing mayhem in my world and having fun at my emotional expense.

As a latent perfectionist I really hate admitting this, but there it is – I’ve had a big loss of confidence lately because it just feels like I can’t do anything right anymore…

This is all an ego-centric exaggeration of course – the simple fact is that if I were to document and analyse all my transactions, thoughts and tryings, then in reality the well-executed and ordinary ones would vastly out-number the inane, inept and incorrect ones…

But somehow, at this stage in my life, it’s as if my consciousness is constantly drawn to all the mishaps and misunderstandings, and they have all gathered together into a nasty, sticky mass, containing a dark mixture of anxious and frustrated self-loathing.

Like many people I have a tendency towards self-castigation, so it is bad enough if someone else points out an error or a flaw, but then times that to the power of ten when it comes to the flagellating misery that my own inner critic will inflict upon me if I let it.

And therein lies a large part of the answer – ‘if I let it’.  And I let it when the horror of error just washes over me and I go through the cringing motions of internal complaint without even noticing what I am doing.  It just happens, especially when I’m tired or poorly and I forget that supposedly I actually have a choice over how I respond to what is going on / not going my way.

I am also mildly obsessed with the notion that with advancing years comes advancing anxiety.  I recall now how people older than me had been known to say that with age they had lost a level of confidence, and hence liked to stay within the confines of the safe and familiar.  Damn it! When as a callow youth I thought of middle age, I assumed that the up side would be that when it happened I would have it (life) all sorted – emotionally and materially, not be creeping backwards into my dank cave.

So, I’ve admitted my erstwhile lack of self-assurance – now what to do about it?

The first thing is to notice that if this happens to me again then it is just a pattern of thought and reaction.  This simple act of self-awareness is very powerful – it allows me to step back and take stock.

The next tactic is to celebrate the fuck ups, messes, errors and mistakes.  Celebrate?  What?! Now if your boss (or how ever has that role in your life) has just pointed out a fault, I’m not suggesting that you do a jig in front of his or her nose, but what I am saying is this – acknowledge to yourself what has happened.  But instead of criticising it, celebrate it – bring positive attention to it, punch the air and say ‘yes’ – I messed up – ‘hurrah’!

Why do this? Well because in doing so I am removing the negative power from it.  I know that when I do it often enough, I get out of the habit of criticism, and not least then if I take the sting out of it, then I can step back from it and see the situation for what it really is.  And, when I step outside of it, then it is far less likely to be an actual, bona fide, fully blown fuck up.

Having stepped back, now you can decide that whatever happened, you can learn from it and decide what, if anything, you want to do differently or better next time.  Then you have another cause for celebration – new lesson learnt!

So I give myself a choice here – how would I prefer to feel, given the choice – criticised or celebrated?  I choose celebrated, of course.

One of my mentors – a certain Mr Richard Wilkins, often asks this question: ‘What do you remember for the longest time – a compliment or a criticism?’  Everyone I know, myself included, always truthfully answers ‘a criticism’.  We are programmed instinctively to spot errors and remind ourselves about what has happened as a protective mechanism to prevent ourselves from doing it again.  But this stone-age tendency also has the effect of knocking us off balance whilst we take time to castigate ourselves and others.  It saps our positive energy and focusses us on the negative.

These negative thought patterns are natural, so you have start brain training to counteract them.  My favourite method for doing this is also a gorgeously simple one: I give thanks.

The constant attitude of gratitude and willingness to celebrate every small victory in life and every lesson learned is one of the most effective ways to gain a more positive pattern of thinking.

I advise every single one of my coaching clients to get a journal and chronicle their gratitudes and gone wells every day.  Personally I love to do this first thing in the morning and last thing at bed time and at the very least, before I go to sleep each night, I run through my day in my head and celebrate all the things I have learnt (and that includes the perceived mishaps), all the things that have gone well (no matter how trivial) along with the myriad of things that I have to be grateful for.  And when I focus on my gratitudes and count my blessings, actually there are a lot.

And when I focus on all my happenings (otherwise known as fuck ups, muck ups and messes) along with all the victories, and then decide that they are all blessings of one sort or another, then there really can’t be any mistakes, any more…

So finally let me raise a champagne glass for me and for you: Here is to a life of realisation and of celebration – cheers!

Sandra
Transient Goddess, Coach and Author

Contact me by clicking here…

I’m also variously known as:

* Director of LifeWork Consultancy & Coaching
* Author of Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life and Co-Author of The F-Factor and you can buy them both at Amazon and all good book sites by clicking on the hyperlinks
* Winner of a Women Inspiring Women Award 2013
* Shortlisted for Women’s Coach in the APCTC Awards 2014, nominated in 2012 & 2013
* Nominated for a Networking Mummies National Recognition Award 2015
* International Book Awards Finalist 2015, Women’s Issues Category

Letter to: Letting Go to ‘The Then’

Trust 1

Dearest You

I’m preoccupied with anxiety at the moment…

A dear one, close to me, is living the label of anxiety. She has been going through many tough times in her recent past, which now leads her to feel constantly concerned about aspects of her future. In response her psyche is giving her warnings of fear and danger ahead; overwhelming her brain, body and emotions to the point of panic attacks.

Therefore, so the medical profession says, she is suffering from ‘anxiety’; in order that what she is going through can be contained and managed by them.

This word ‘anxiety’ delineates her. It means that, as is so often the case, they have latched onto a symptom and repeat it to themselves and to her, so that it becomes not a lesson, but a preoccupation.

I’m not here to decry their methods, I can see that many of the tools they use, I use too in my coaching with my clients, but I want to make a difference to this situation and to others who are feeling the same symptoms, not least myself…

I don’t like labels, but I do like explanations, and sometimes when I see similar preoccupations with clients too – I explain that anxiety is about creating stories in our minds and then projecting them as happenings in our future. But I am also very clear that is not a label to live by.

So many of us feel the fear… Our thoughts say – in the future – this will happen, and that will happen and it won’t be good…

I’m as guilty of this as anyone. My thoughts start spiralling and I find myself worrying about what will be… how certain situations will pan out… that things in my future may well fail or crash and burn…

And then I catch myself thinking – ‘so, I suffer from anxiety too’… It’s like I’m catching it, just like an infectious disease… I’m reading the label on someone else and now applying it to myself…

So it is time to STOP this anxious thinking and to coach myself back to clarity.

What do I say to my coaching clients at times like these? Well – I explain that fear is not reality, it is instead a negative projection of what you have decided could happen in the future.

Early on in my coaching career I was taught an acronym which nicely sums this up; it states that fear is actually a:

False
Event
Appearing
Real

Fear is living in the future – the worst possible future. It is your brain warning you of the pitfalls of a situation – saying that danger lies ahead. But this is only one dimension of the future. You could have many futures, including positive ones.

Yes – danger, pain and difficulty may all exist in the future, but equally, they may NOT. Resolution, normality and joy may also be in store for you, so why doesn’t your brain remind you of that???

Such thought processes happen for a lot reasons… many of us are psychologically wired up in this animalistic / protectionist way. Culturally too, so often we have grown up around influencers who always point out the negatives, difficulties and pitfalls of a situation.

Life should be a balance, so how shattering would it be to continually either live in the mire of fear or else to constantly expend effort to exert the balance back to trust and confidence in the future? Well many people do and it is completely draining and exhausting, both mentally and physically…

So how about a new tactic? As usual, with the tools that I deploy for myself and hence my clients, this is a simple one and it is this: I release anxious thoughts to ‘the then’…

What this means is that I decide that worrying about future events and how they will end or make me feel is a waste of effort; since my thoughts now will not change the reality of the situation of then.

I know from experience that I can trust myself to deal with all manner of situations – negative and positive. Time has proven that I have mastered resources, dealt with situations and at the very least lived through and survived them all and usually, thrived through most of them. So I remind myself of this fact.

I remind my fearful ego that I can trust myself to deal with what ever comes up for me and that all I am doing in projecting all my possible disasters into the future is making myself unhappy. Yet I want to be happy right now, since ‘now’ – this breath, this space, is what I have, so this means that I have to let go of the future and be anchored instead in the present.

This is when I decide to let go to ‘the then’ and that I will deal with what ever the issue is then, knowing that when it is time for that issue to be dealt with, it will all happen in good order, despite what the fearful part of my brain says.

Often, just letting go to ‘the then’ is enough to shake my clients out of this anxious cycle. Sometimes it may seem overwhelming, so it will need reinforcing by sharing your commitment to let go with trusted others.

As a coach I reinforce this strategy with a number of emotional release and NLP techniques to both embed it in and speed it through the psyche.

So, to underpin ‘letting go to the then’, here is another acronym:

To
Really
Understand,
Simply
Trust

It is indeed, time to trust and to let go to the then.

With love, from
            Sandra
Coach, Author and Believer

PS:  How about reading more of these Love Letters to Life ‘off blog’?  My first book – ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ gathers together my gorgeous wisdom into a neat paperback package that you can read from cover to cover or else dip into at whim.  It’s designed to be evocative, entertaining and to make you think – so you can embrace and enjoy your life – more. In 2015 the book was a finalist in the International book awards.  It’s been featured in Psychologies mazagine, and The Lady, along with other national and local press.  To get your own copy of Peachey Letters either in paperback or kindle, check out Amazon, here…

Fiction: The Stilted Fairy

February 2016 Blog Challenge: Blog 29 of 29

Hurrah! It’s the last day of February – a day longer than average Valentine month at that, and I am now posting my final February post.  I have completed my blog challenge – which was to compose and post every single day of this month.

I’ve written ‘Peachey Letters’ considering life and I’ve written fiction blogs too, something new to my adult experience – although as a child I was happy to create stories and loved the escapism that they offered, to fly away with the fairies… 

As an adult, I have now returned to the fiction form and have embarked on writing my first novel (of a trilogy). It’s a blend of semi auto-biographical and fantastical elements, which feels somewhat like making a giant patch work quilt of my life: There are some favourite scraps of my own old clothes, which I am adding to, embellishing and turning into a brand new pattern…

Part of my blog challenge this month was to create content for this first fiction book.  Each excerpt, which stands alone on this blog – will eventually be woven into the larger fabric of my completed book.

And that is me done for February.  Thank you for being on this page with me!  I trust you have enjoyed my daily outpourings and I look forward to your feedback on my new fictional format.

Have a Marvellous March!

The Stilted Fairy

Wings toy

Honestly, at my age, I’m not used to standing up for so long. It’s not how I was designed, after all. My feet are rebelling. They ache and they are sore. I’m wearing entirely the wrong sort of shoes – they may look elegant, but they are remorselessly squeezing my toes, so that every step has now become a wincing agony.

This exhibition that I’m wondering aimlessly around is boring me any way; it’s just a way to kill another lonely Sunday – in a vast Expo Hall, somewhere on the edge of London.

My feet certainly aren’t thanking me for the outing and there is nothing of any interest at any of the stalls, so finally I cue up to buy tea in a large cardboard cup, and limping now – rather than gliding sexily and confidently along, I stake my claim on a dirty table scattered with used cups, scrunched up napkins and discarded crumbs.

My cardboard tea cup has a leak and as I raise the drink to my lips, hot brown liquid spills triumphantly down my white blouse instead… I look down surreptitiously and check out the damage, “Oh wonderful!” And so I put down my defective cup and watch the hectic world whirl about, as I silently spy on the people around me; honing in on clothes and conversation, demeanour and body language and then having analysed the symptoms I see, I start to spin stories of who the people about me are and what they do…

Over at the next table is an anxious young man in a suit, leaning forward, posturing and dominating, clearly desperate to seal a deal with his laconic older companion; a man dressed in jeans and a casual jacket who is in more relaxed mode – sitting back, observing rather than taking part. I can tell, just by my side line observation, that the young guy is not going to get the deal, opportunity or cash that he wants so much. He may instead just get a brush off, although his older companion looks like more the type to give advice. The young guy ignores the stand-off signals from his coffee buddy, but instead finishes his diatribe and holds out his hand to shake on a deal.

Now his older companion leans in. First he looks the young guy in the eyes. Then he speaks slowly and deliberately, looking over the top of his erstwhile companion’s head. Finally, now that his careful, spare words have been spent, he stands up, touches the other man on the shoulder and disappears smoothly in to the crowd.

Before I can observe the reaction of the object of my observation, there is a blur of white in my peripheral vision and I turn to see her… The Fairy…

Now here is a wonder of a woman who does not hide her wings. Instead she is proudly out in public, on show in this showy space.

Of course she isn’t a real fairy… She’s a circus performer or promotional worker, attention seeking and adding a strange brand of ethereal glamour to this earthly place. But still I look her over, so I can consciously compare and contrast…

Unlike me of course she cannot fly or hover – so she is, instead elevated on stilts. Her hair, naturally (or unnaturally, since I suspect that’s a wig) is long and blond, flowing down in tidy waves over her shoulders. Honestly, if she ever actually flew – her hair would never look that pristine.

She’s dressed in clichéd white, in a dress sprinkled with silver stars and she has a delicate silver coronet on her head. Again, it’s hardly practical garb for flying – in these days of pollution and miscreant weather, the frock would be filthy in seconds and the crown would fly off her head during take-off.

Her wings it has to be said, are more impressive than the usual pink Chinese (made) chiffon toy versions are.   They have an individual span of around 18 inches each, with a top wired frame from which drips a light diaphanous material, which means that they flutter behind her as she lopes along.

Instead of a sinuous flowing flight, her walk is a laboured gait. It is less lift and more limp. Despite all her sparkly finery, she’s too earth bound and gravity heavy to ever take off into the skies.

Unlike me, she gets noticed though. She is constantly photographed and posed with. Whereas – as usual, I just sit invisibly by, observing on the edge, with a smug secret smile which belies my tea stained shirt and swollen feet.

So let’s compare her to me… Firstly, my wings are bigger, much, much bigger…

“Can I take this seat?” a man of 30 something says, grabbing the spare chair at my table and taking the seat for granted by planting himself in it. He is wearing glasses, and underneath the dun coloured corduroy jacket and black jeans, I can see a blue shirt, unbuttoned at the top. My nose is then assaulted by the foul smelling black coffee he slaps onto the tiny table, which has the latent liquid consistency of idiomatic tar.

We both stare at the fairy, who is posing for a photograph, with a small excited child somewhere near her feet… “What would it take to get her to fly do you think?” I say idly.

“Ah well,” he replied “you’re asking the wrong person – I’m a scientist, so I know it simply isn’t possible.”

He then goes on to expound to me how a flying human wouldn’t work. Without waiting for any response from me, he launches into bafflement by wing span to weight ratios and uplift and the like. He speaks of energy sustainability and aerodynamics; all in order to refute my laconic proposition.  But I just smugly let all his unversed words flow over my own fair head.

He has, he explains, a degree in physics, so assumes that this means that he knows everything. Well, in the case of flying – naturally I know better…

Of course he could hardly know that I am a winged wonder who bucks the trends of modern day knowledge. I should of course be a creature of myth, whereas it turns out, that apart from the wings folded secretly flat against my back… I’m an unscientific, blonde, averagely ditsy sort of woman, who loves to introduce the conversational topic to random strangers of ‘if you sprouted wings and it was suddenly possible for you to fly, where would you go and what would you do’..?

An all too frequent response is that “er… I’ve never thought of it”, or “well I’d save money on my Spanish holiday by flying there, or I’d avoid the daily commute”, etc., and bla bla bla…

Such bland, flip responses all seem like wasted opportunities to me… They’re too pedestrian, and too plebeian… And so far none of the answers ever received, have inspired me to do any more than the same…

After all birds just fly from A to B don’t they – from nest to food? Why do I think that being a winged human gives me entitlement to anything other than the same mundane?

Well, it’s because I’m different of course – whilst it’s common for birds, most humans don’t actually fly. But then, since my wings are secret to most people – no one knows this of me. My difference has to remain invisible and so, out here in the earthbound world, I remain bland and simply stare at the leaden footed humans all around me; wondering who I should pity the most – them or me??

I stand up, and leaving my congealing tea and wrong footed companion behind, limp away from the table, to melt back into the crowd; without a backward glance or a smug good bye.

~ Sandra Peachey ©

PS: “Thank you for sharing your letters with us all. You have such a wonderful gift with words. … Wishing you joy.” ~ Monique Blackmore

This is just one from the many hundreds of comments I had when I did my first blog challenge 4 years ago.  The post above is a fiction and yet I also write about my own experiences.  In fact a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, exploring all the facets of my ‘real’ life in all its’ badness, banality and beauty. This is love seen in every aspect of the life that I live.  In it you will find the dark and the light of love, in a way that will make you think, entertain you and let you know that you are not alone in life, whatever it holds for you… It is of course the perfect Valentine gift. You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ by Sandra Peachey, from book websites anywhere in the world, including on Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)

Fiction: Growing Wings

February 2016 Blog Challenge: Blog 28 of 29

As a child I was happy to create stories and loved the escapism that they offered, especially from gremlins of every kind… 

As an adult, I have now returned to the fiction form and have embarked on writing my first novel (of a trilogy). It’s a blend of semi auto-biographical and fantastical elements, which feels somewhat like making a giant patch work quilt of my life: There are some favourite scraps of my own old clothes, which I am adding to, embellishing and turning into a brand new pattern…

Part of my blog challenge this month is to create content for this first fiction book.  Each excerpt, which stands alone on this blog – will eventually be woven into the larger fabric of my completed book.

Growing Wings

Wings

It started gradually, her knowing of her wings… She had dreamt of them and hoped so heavily that this time would come. And as time is, they did not come suddenly; instead they came gradually, starting slowly as an itch, something stretching and shoving, thrusting up inexorably, from deep within the skin around her shoulders and across her back – just where it was hard to see, just where it was difficult to feel any more than the stroking of her hand, over her slowly reddening skin.

She had dreamt of course, that she could fly, ever since she could remember dreaming. During these night time reveries, she endlessly owned the freedom of flight, and would rise up and away and fly from trouble, buzzing and hovering like a fairy or a dragon fly, flitting about over roofs and looking down on all the earth bound, clay bound mortals who would never ever look up and see her, high above them in all her feathered glory.

And for once, her dreams were coming true and so it was a delicious secret that she would keep, from her mother and from everyone, until she would reach her father’s family again and share her wingèd triumph with them.

Still her shoulders reddened and itched on. Ariel was now frightened that her secret would be shown when she went on her weekly school swimming lessons, but oddly no one seemed to see what she knew and what she felt – that her long dreamt of wings were coming through.

After weeks of burning and scratching their way upwards, finally the first stubbly tips began to show, like soft grey pin pricks running across her shoulders, looking just like daddy’s stubble the minute before he shaved. The feel of them was fascinating and so, in secret, in bed, craning her head to see her shoulders in the bathroom mirror she would rub hands against their ever increasing grain – to the left on her left shoulder and so to the right on her right shoulder.

They grew, like grass, daily, getting longer and stronger, forming new limbs that she could fold neatly back against her back. No feathers yet, just white down, fluffy and soft to the touch. And as they increased in length and width, she found that she could flap her wings and stretch them, but not take off yet, still tethered as she was, heavily to the ground.

~ Sandra Peachey ©

PS: “Thank you for sharing your letters with us all. You have such a wonderful gift with words. … Wishing you joy.” ~ Monique Blackmore

This is just one from the many hundreds of comments I had when I did my first blog challenge 4 years ago.  The post above is a fiction and yet I also write about my own experiences.  In fact a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, exploring all the facets of my ‘real’ life in all its’ badness, banality and beauty. This is love seen in every aspect of the life that I live.  In it you will find the dark and the light of love, in a way that will make you think, entertain you and let you know that you are not alone in life, whatever it holds for you… It is of course the perfect Valentine gift. You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ by Sandra Peachey, from book websites anywhere in the world, including on Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)

 

Fiction: The Dream Watcher

February 2016 Blog Challenge: Blog 27 of 29

As a child I was happy to create stories and loved the escapism that they offered, going where my dreams and others, would take me… 

As an adult, I have now returned to the fiction form and have embarked on writing my first novel (of a trilogy). It’s a blend of semi auto-biographical and fantastical elements, which feels somewhat like making a giant patch work quilt of my life: There are some favourite scraps of my own old clothes, which I am adding to, embellishing and turning into a brand new pattern…

Part of my blog challenge this month is to create content for this first fiction book.  Each excerpt, which stands alone on this blog – will eventually be woven into the larger fabric of my completed book.

The Dream Watcher

And so he dreamt on whilst she watched…

He twitched and moved through his dream scape. She wondered where on earth or beyond he was, and could see how his breathing silently jerked and rasped his rib cage. The rhythm simply seemed to be out of synchronicity, and to measure this she mimicked the inhalations and exhalations of his lungs, as his chest rose and fell in undefined waves.

Without noise, she breathed out as he did, pulled the air into her lungs as he did and it was an odd and absorbing exercise in trying to get under his sleeping skin, for there was no real rhythm to it.

There was a light breath, barely moving his body and then a heavy one, heaving his whole rib cage, then a breathless pause, a wait to exhale and three fast silent gasps. In twinning his breath, she was learning to be him, to know him in a new dimension, secretly – when he wasn’t sentient or contained or knowingly observed.

All hers as he said he was, he was in sleep, next to her, oddly out of reach.

And then it was as if he could feel her watching him and he rose up from the breath of his dreams and opened his eyes, looking into hers – bringing her into view and looking at her with clear sight.

She smiled…

But then it was clear that in the moment he had not actually awakened or acknowledged her – she couldn’t decide which; and instead turned his back on her, to go back to his cave of dreams, without her searching eyes upon his secret, sleeping face.

PS: “It’s gorgeous. Fiction and creating other worlds for us to go to is your thing.”
~ Jacqui Malpass

This is just one from the many hundreds of comments from recent blogs.  The post above is a fiction and yet I also write about my own experiences.  In fact a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, exploring all the facets of my ‘real’ life in all its’ badness, banality and beauty. This is love seen in every aspect of the life that I live.  In it you will find the dark and the light of love, in a way that will make you think, entertain you and let you know that you are not alone in life, whatever it holds for you… It is of course the perfect Valentine gift. You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ by Sandra Peachey, from book websites anywhere in the world, including on Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)