Having just been through the season of joy, I ask the question: How did you go with unleashing your joy over Christmas?
For some, joy can be terrifying because as soon as we start to feel it we self-sabotage saying, ‘What can go wrong?’ or ‘I’d better knock on wood.’ Indicating that it may not last. When we lose our vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding. If the fear of joy rises in you, be alert that this may be an old pattern of letting yourself down gently, of protecting yourself.
I first heard about foreboding joy in an interview with Brené Brown. She talks about using the practice of gratitude as an antidote for the fear that rises around joy. Feeling gratitude about joy rather than fear that it can’t last.
Letting it in, leaning hard into moments of joy.
In a culture of scarcity, we look for extraordinary things to fix us, rather than being grateful for the small things. Recognising those small, lovely things that we can be thankful for all around us, every day. That’s the trick.
I lean into this extract from a poem by Kahil Gibran on Joy and Sorrow for more inspiration.
In 2015, I wrote a children’s book, Two Pennies, I had no idea that it would find its way into a documentary or that I would become the co-producer and screenwriter of my first documentary, Never Forget Australia. Then I heard about the remarkable story of a little French war orphan’s journey from the battlefields of France to the Australian outback. I was spellbound; compelled to write about it. (more…)
It’s easy to forget how easily our minds can go to war with our bodies. Especially when it’s close to home; when someone triggers a negative reaction in you. (more…)
I was asked to speak with the Society of Women Writers earlier in the year and was delighted to find an enthusiastic, willing group of creatives, all at completely different stages of their creative journey.
They opened their hearts and minds to me and each other, to look at new ways of thinking and writing.
When my mother died, I cleaned out her room but I couldn’t find the one thing I desperately searched for, in every little box and packet, in every piece of paper, every letter, every single thing she kept and treasured for eighty-four years of her life.
I looked through her beloved jewellery collection, her rock and precious stone collection, the stamps that she lovingly placed into her stamp books over generations of time. Receipts and Christmas cards, but not one word to understand who she was, or what she believed in, no clue about how she felt or thought.
I was talking with a friend about values and behaviours recently and how, while we can hold and truly believe a value, if we don’t back it up with our behaviour, the value becomes hollow.