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…

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Love Letter to (Emotional) Resilience

Boxing Resilience

Dearest Friend

I’m writing to you today because I want to get in touch with you again and to have more of you in my life – because right now, I miss you…

I see you out in the world and you are quite ‘the thing’ now aren’t you? You are bandied about in corporate circles and trotted out for magazine articles and so you’ve become very fashionable of late and I wonder if you have time for me anymore, so I’ll put my own petty predispositions to one side and unashamedly reach out to you instead.

If I think about what you are, I can chew up a dictionary and spew out a definition of you: Emotional resilience is having the ability and resources to adapt to difficult emotional situations or surprises. When you are emotionally resilient, you are more able to accept such situations and better able to adapt – rolling with the punches of life, rather than being knocked out by them.

Interesting that I should start sprinkling boxing analogies in there… But not surprising, because I have of late, starting feeling that life has been punching me in the stomach a little too often…

I like to think of myself as a strong person, but woman cannot live by thoughts and preferences alone. As an observer of mankind and myself – womankind – the kind of woman who watches and tries to lovingly learn; I have noticed how I am subject to the rhythms of my life. So I am deliberately putting some time aside to analyse the waves of those rhythms and to decide whether to swim, surf or take a boat across them. Frequently you, see, I seem to be drowning in them; so it is time to traverse, rather to tread water. What I wonder is going on with me that seems to weaken my resilience, and what steps can I take to consciously build it up again?

So if I look at myself and where my life has taken me recently – there are both external and internal considerations. I made a big change to my work / life path around 9 months ago and I realise that I am still adjusting and balancing all the options around that. I am, I now realise, missing certain elements of that old life that filled me up emotionally and psychologically, and I want to redress the balance.

The first part of that process is to be really sure of who I am and what I want to bring to the party of life. So here is my Soul Manifesto: I want to earn a good income, doing work that supports others and enervates and pushes me. I want to go beyond existing and paying bills – to a state of feeling fulfilled. That involves putting positive energy into my corporate work, my coaching and my writing.

When I am clear about what I bring to each of these activities, then that clarity gives me a surety and strength in myself; and means then that I am not so desperately vested in the misaligned words, actions and opinions of the players and partners around me – all with their own agenda; but rather that I understand what these are, and so I dance with rather than deal with other’s demons – doing a do-si-do and a step to the side, rather than an intense one on one tango.

To be honest with you, dealing with my own demons is hard enough work and I cannot serve my soul’s purpose if I am drawing daggers with other people’s devils… But frequently I forget this and find myself out there with them in the boxing ring. So I’m standing there, thinking I’ve got the friendly audience and the outfit just right and that I’ll execute a few nifty and graceful shadow moves, when… Blam!!! Suddenly and without warning I am punched hard in the stomach by my opponent – who I thought was actually my partner. But no. Biff! Duff! Thwack! Now the punches keep raining down on me, even though I am now knocked out and lying on the sawdust strewn floor finding it hard to breathe. And then I realise that I am actually beating myself up. For the love of… Ouch!!! I can’t decide which kind of punch (internal or external) is more painful…

I’m also out in the audience, watching myself from the side lines – shouting encouragement one minute, then counting to ten the next, and I think ominously that this woman on the floor has a physical disadvantage as well as an emotional demon to fight…

And that demon / disadvantage or whatever you may call it is the menopause. I feel that I haven’t weathered it well. My hormones have raged and rampaged over my life for some years now and I feel like the layers of strength and learning that I have built up around my heart have been eroded away. It is as if my emotional resilience has been burnt out – has given up, along with my body, which has been fighting the transition with all the indecorous furore of a bull in a china shop. And I’m left, naked to my emotions and therefore open to the various blows that circumstance and psyche will inevitably rain on my heart.

Out in the audience, as I watch myself sitting up slowly, with the moths of pain and pity flying round my head (instead of cartoon birds and stars), I walk over to myself and whisper in my ear, the same things that I tell my coaching clients…

“You are sitting up, you are breathing – you are safe. Acknowledge the pain – accept it and that you are in it, for now. This too shall pass. See it for what it is and choose what you want from this. Choose to learn and if you feel that you are beyond choice, then ask yourself what you would choose if you could and ruminate on those thoughts – even disassociated choice will heal and change the psyche. Analyse and accept what has happened. Don’t fight it with recriminations, angry self-talk, and victimised surmises. The surmises that equate to you making up tales and stories – ‘but they did X / I always Y, oh why, oh why’ etc.)… This is just your mind creating tall tales, it is not your reality, so change the ending. Fighting (in whatever form it takes) is always painful, so take off the boxing gloves.

It is always tempting at times like these to drug the pain – with tablets, wine, television or whatever our real or psyched pharmacy of choice is. But instead of drugging – how about distracting instead? Take a walk, take a break; breath deep and a get a change of scene and perspective – even if that is just walking into the next room.

Find a supportive friend, colleague or coach who will be a positive sounding board. Get it off your chest. Then listen – to them, and most importantly to your self – that self that goes deeper than those perceived punches in the heart. What is really going on here for you – what is the lesson to be learnt?”

And sometimes at this point I’ve seen myself and clients snap right out of it and of course, at others, it takes a little more energy to be able to get back on your feet.

Out of that imaginary boxing arena now, these are the two vital underpinning elements to bolster emotional resilience:

Firstly – consciously keeping the right company. Not just running to someone to moan and unload, but being part of a group/community where you give and take. Somewhere where you learn and teach. For some this family and friends, others combine this with being part of communities like Broadband Consciousness or Damsels in Success – any number of options are out there and available for you to explore.

Secondly – keep up a routine of self-development practices. Read the right books (and given your situation, the choice of these will change); learn to meditate, and journal. Get a notebook and as a minimum – write out 10 things / reasons / situations / people every day to be grateful for. What can you be grateful for in those emotional punches..? This is training your brain to find positive thoughts and is ultimately building your resilience.

These two practices become even better if you combine them with getting a deeper level of support from a coach or counsellor – work through your stuff – not just in times of crises, but as a matter of course / routine. Please don’t tell me that you cannot afford the time or financial investment that this will involve. There are many forms of support out there – from free to expensive. A lot of what you choose (including doing nothing) will depend upon your concept of value, but where ever there is a will, there is a way, so find the right resources to invest in yourself.

A constant positive self-analysis along with supportive guidance, is a powerful combination. The external support means that you have a wealth of resources to draw on. The inner practices – that you can be more simultaneously wise and resilient, because you keep up a constant and conscious practice – meaning that you become humble enough to keep learning, and quiet enough to let the answers come to you, all in in their own good time.

How you do all this is part of this process, you will inevitably experiment with what works best for you and don’t think that you will find one easy source for all this support. By varying what you do, you will strengthen what you do – as with most things in life – don’t put all your eggs in to one basket.

So, my friend Resilience – of course in clichéd fashion, I find that you have been with me all along – I had just forgotten you, but knew secretly too that you were always there within me. And if I have been stripped back, and emotionally laid bare, then all to the good – it is time to build myself up again – to be better, and to be more. Always of course, with a little help from my (internal and external) friends.

So now, my emotional vulnerability becomes my learning and of course my ultimate strength and turns back in to my emotional resilience.

Thank you my friend, for all that you give me: the love, the learning and the strength to serve – myself and so too then, the world.

Yours, with dancing feet and dry eyes…

S xXx

PS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, exploring all the facets of loss, love and life in all their gore and glory? 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, what ever it holds for you… You can buy ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ by Sandra Peachey, from book websites any where in the world, including on Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)

Cats and the Expression of Existential Angst

As an early Valentine present, at the time of posting, the author of this blog – Sandra Peachey, published the gorgeous book ‘Peachey Letters – Love Letters to Life’ 2 years ago… To celebrate, the cost of the Kindle edition has been reduced to just £1.99 / $2.99 for 3 days starting from Tuesday 11 February 2015. At the time of posting there is just a few hours of this promotion left, before the book returns to it’s normal selling price of £6.00. For the UK click http://ow.ly/IRSbQ, for the USA http://ow.ly/IRTkK or check out your nearest Amazon site… And have a very Happy Valentines! 

cat angst

George, puss of this parish, sometimes stands at the top of the stairs in our house / cave yowling loudly, long and insistently… I mean really loudly, for a really long time and so, so insistently…

Why does he do this? I have several theories…

If I am feeling prone to anthropomorphizing and romanticising, I like to surmise that George is on old human soul, doomed to return to this corporeal world – shrunk down into feline form and clothed in coat of fur; locked into a new linear life where he tries to tell us that one act of mere magic will release him from this animal form, to be for ever free…

Or: George is a truly wise being, who understands everything; a creature who knows what we mere humans have no concept of – this being that we do not live out our full truth and joy, and in not doing so, we are doomed to pain; so on our behalf he eloquently expresses our suffering – swallowing in our sorrows and breathing them dissonantly out of his body, in his own free form of existential angst; cursing our condition and bemoaning the fate of the world…

Or: Something terrible has happened; there is clear and present danger and so he needs to warn us, to save us and for us to rescue him in return…

Or: He wants me to come up stairs and let him into the bedroom…

Speculation aside, it would seem that George has little to complain about… His needs are all met – since he has food, shelter and love. He has freedom. He is handsome. He was born with an instinctual and smug sense of self, of knowing his mind and living according to his whims and desires.

And still, he complains… What would he know??? Because, excuse me, but as the human Head of the Pride I’m the one with the hard life: I am the provider, the huntress, and the toiler. I am the one who lives a complicated, extricated, inter-woven life out there in the jungle, away from the sanctuary of our lion cave. I am the one who has to pay bills and do chores. It is my relentless remit to ensure that everything runs smoothly – that house work is done, that the garden is maintained. And not only all that, but I get sick sometimes too. And I don’t have enough help. It’s not as if a cat will help… “Make me a cup of tea” I will say to any one of my so called feline friends, and they just ignore me… I should be the one complaining…

OK, so I do complain – I get caught up in a dirge like drama of life’s treadmill and trammel, with a thousand and one dark thoughts, which, like marshalled moths, are for ever flying raggedly round and round a maudlin moon. And yet you, George, a pampered pet, are sounding your discord, your discontent, your cares, your worries and your demands.  But why, when you have it all so easy

Well… there is that saying: ‘we all have a cross to bear’, I guess that I just can’t see the George Cross.

Instead I am caught in a constant cycle of negative thoughts, which means that I create a living reality of negativity; my very own well of wallowing hell, happening right here, between my ears… It is a vapid vortex which feeds and fattens itself on happenings in my word, on many things – tiredness, or the level of menopausal hormones rampaging through my system, or being middle aged; being crowded, being alone, being bothered, being blah, blah, blah…

At least George gets it all out of his system; instead of ruminating on his woe, he yowls and howls it out, and in doing so hurls it away; and then, all spent, he trots down stairs, back to me – to be adored, to fall asleep, to purr and so to move on.

I should take a leaf out of his book – and let it all go, let it out, then just move on.

And… I’m a coach – you know, one of those people who’s life mission it is to support others, to help them blast through blockages, make a difference, have what they want, be happy and fulfilled…  So I should have my shit together, not be flinging it around!

And suddenly I remember my mother… She would resentfully bottle things up over time; then out it would all come, the crap and capriciousness, loaded with complaints and caterwauls; slowly building up to a hissing head of steam, and then bang! She would explode, yelling and rampaging her frustration against… us, her life and the world… Oh, my mother… now I am an age when I sense I have somehow caught up with her, I really feel for her. She simply did not have the support, emotional education or resources to do any thing other than rail… And my heart aches, but that was her life lived. So of course I am my mother’s daughter, but still I am my own woman too. I understand the frustration and see the rage, and then I pull back, take stock, and strike to make a change.

The change is effected by the single biggest tool in my coaching box, and it is a gorgeously simple one – the constant practice of gratitude… I see the best, celebrate and give thanks for all that is in my life. I turn curses in to thank you’s. I pause to list things to be grateful for, sometimes through gritted teeth, but always with a determined positivity. Next I will list out: what I am and how I will be, on this day… ‘I am a coach; I am strong; I am a completer/finisher; I am energy; I am contentment; I am / I am / I am…’

And as for complaining, I turn that into coaching, and then turn to my own coaches too for support – to shine a light, to help me to spin back around to a more healthy sanity. And always, there is George – who comes to me and I stroke him, and the soft touch makes us both content, and he purrs – his own delicious declaration that all is well, for now… And now, for both of us is all that matters, this mini moment of happiness.

So, the next time George feels like yowling his furry head off, I could just join in, or I should just pick him up and cuddle him instead. And then neither of us would have any thing to complain about…

PS: Remember that there is a special Valentine Gift promotion on the book version of this blog! The cost of the Kindle edition has been reduced to £1.99 / $2.99 for just a few more hours (at the time of posting, Friday 13 February 2015). Happy Valentines from the author and her cats! For the UK click http://ow.ly/IRSbQ, for the USA http://ow.ly/IRTkK or check out your nearest Amazon site…

George – The Reiki Cat – Part 1

George BloggerMeet George, Reiki Cat –
offering his opinion on my daily blog today…

As I write this post, my cat George is lying at my feet – a faithful companion, sometimes a critic and almost inevitably a happy distraction…

I run a Consultancy called LifeWork, built around supporting my clients to have the life and business that works best for them… I consult on Human Resources projects and I coach clients on a one to one basis too.

And another facet of my life is that I have a pride of three cats who share my home with me, who surround and influence me and who are an endless source of affection, entertainment and inspiration…

Sometimes, joyously, cats and coaching combine in my life…

So it was that I opened the door one evening to my newest coaching client, Linda – who was (at the time) running a beauty business. She had come to my home for her first appointment and wanted to work with me because she felt that beauty wasn’t really her ‘thing’ any more; she was now at a stage in her life where she actually wanted to do more holistic work with her clients. She was, she explained a qualified Reiki* practitioner and had a desire to increase her confidence and business acumen in this new direction of her life / business, so had booked a programme of coaching sessions with me.

As part of my own LifeWork model I don’t work exclusively from home, but do like to conduct a lot of my practice there for a number of reasons… I love an easy life and having my clients come to me, is as easy as it gets; I can create the right relaxed environment for coaching, where both myself and my clients are at ease in comfortable surroundings. All the tools of my trade are close to hand too – those awkward to carry, bothersome to hire items – like white boards and projectors, oh – and did I forget to mention that there are endless supplies of tea and coffee on tap..?

I actually do a lot of my one to one work by telephone or Skype, but always seek to engineer the first meeting face to face, so as to start building the best foundation for a productive coaching relationship.

Since I share my home with three cats, I always check with first time visitors that they are OK with having my feline family around. I will also offer to keep the cats out of the room while we are working. Linda though, assured me that all was fine and was introduced to George, the first feline to come along and inspect the newcomer who had just arrived at our cave that day.

I offered Linda a seat and a drink, and noticed how delighted George was to meet her and how he fussed over her in a way that he usually reserves for old friends. Off I went to the kitchen to make us both a cup of tea, and then popped back to ask the ‘milk and sugar’ question. As I did so, the thought floated through my mind – ‘she’s reiki-ing my cat’… Unperturbed, I returned a few minutes later with our drinks.

‘I’ve been reiki-ing your cat’ Linda said. ‘So I gather’ I replied, ‘tell me more…’

George, she explained, had shown her his bald patch and asked her to heal it. ‘What bald patch’? Was my response. George was lying at her feet and only too happy to be rolled over onto his back, by an almost total stranger. She then moved a front paw to one side and I saw no evidence of any fur missing amongst the long silken fronds that form his magnificent coat… And then I saw it, a patch of bare skin, right in the joint between body and limb, looking for all the world like a shaved arm pit.

‘Well, who knew?’ I said, ‘and we both thank you for the gift of healing…’

I thought it was a gorgeous, extraordinarily ordinary display from both Linda and George, and demonstrated how naturally she gave her gift of expertise; and how he knew intrinsically that she could help him…

Before we had even started coaching, Linda was showing me where her greatest gift to the world lay and George had been one of the very first recipients of that gift, in this strangely familiar and yet new phase of her life and business.

It was one of those glorious moments of recognition for all of us – one where you know you are witnessing a gift. You are observing someone working in their gift – doing that very thing they are compelled to do; where other souls benefit from the gift; and where it could the most natural thing in the world to hit that sweet spot of earning an exchange of money for what you have to give to the globe.

I hadn’t even realised what I was seeing at the time, for then we got into the practicalities, the ins and outs of our coaching time together. But the memory stayed with me and lingered languidly in my mind, and that perfect incident turned into an impressive influence for both George and myself, as I reflected on this beautiful little vignette of a recollection.

At the time of writing Linda now lives a life that is quite recognisable and different to the one she lived back then (several years ago), inside and out. As with all my clients, I couldn’t possibly take any credit for that. She had started a new journey and George and myself were on a very small part of that with her, and were catalysts (pun intended) that got to share our time and gifts with her.

And here is why I find coaching such a superbly selfish thing to do, in unknowing return, Linda gave George and myself such a gift that day and beyond that day, as all my clients do. She in turn became a catalyst for change in our lives and to my amazement, the next ‘catalytic’ chapter was very soon to be opened wide, bringing together so many connections in my life that showed me, that all of us – Linda, George and me – were all on the right LifeWork path…

PS: Did you know that a collection of my ‘Peachey Letters’ have been gathered together in to a beautiful book, cats and all?  I’m completely biased of course, but it makes a purrfect present, for you or the cat lover in your life… You can buy it from book websites any where in the world, including Amazon (in both Paperback and Kindle)

* Reiki, Google tells us, is “a healing technique based on the principle that the therapist can channel energy into the patient by means of touch, to activate the natural healing processes of the patient’s body and restore physical and emotional well-being.”

The Alternative of Acceptance…

Accepted

I have been going through a protracted period where an issue – simply unmanaged and ignored because of its difficulty, has now spiralled instead out of silly control. It is gnawing away at my consciousness and going round my brain in ever decreasing circles, filling my thoughts, playing with my emotions and sapping my strength…

Even the fact that I have now established some controls and am moving towards a resolution is not stilling the anger and disquiet. The same evil thoughts circle and spiral in my head again and again. How is it that I could be misunderstood and treated this way… by other individuals, by my own doing, by fate and by the Universe? It feels… oh so painful and unfair…

I have had to consciously choose not to wallow in all this and let it lead and define me, but it is subconsciously still there, not letting me go… So I have to seek solutions and alternatives. At times like these, I love to replace the busy complex twistings of gut and thought, with sweet simplicity instead…

Today I took a walk. A walk of change, of calm and balm. And so an alternative floated into my mind… And that was – ‘acceptance’… And now, as I walk, as I think, as I do – I seek and pray for acceptance instead… Instead of the circles and cycles of whiplash thought, instead of the bitterness and bile of argument and incrimination, I choose the iced silence of acceptance instead…

This acceptance is a prayer, an invocation, a whispered alternative to anger. It fills my head with positive movement and upward momentum instead. It is the opposite of negativity, it is synchronous and quiet; this acceptance moves me forward – instead of stalling and circling and sticking in my brain. It breaks the negative repetitiveness and consternation, and best of all, it is a simplistic swop.

So… I accept this day; I accept the trees and the bluebells; I accept my life and what has led me to this point; I accept that I am here and now; I accept my situation; I accept my parents; I accept my decisions; I accept other’s reactions; I accept that things will change; I accept that soon this will all be unimportant; I accept the best; I accept the sunshine; I accept the opportunities to grow and to learn; I accept that I am skilled and amazing at many things; I accept that I am also a work in progress in others; I accept my work; I accept my companions; I accept the journey; I accept the blue sky; I accept myself; I accept the others.

I accept…

PS: See more of my ‘Love Letters to Life’ – to the people, phenomena and happenings that define my world. You can get hold of your copy here…  or else from Amazon (in both Kindle and Paperback formats) and from all good book shops and websites across the world…