A Week To Tune In – Monday Oracle 28 January 2019


“Listening is about being present, not just about being quiet.” ~ Krista Tippett

Hello, Lovelies!

January is a month for planning, and for becoming clear about what matters to you. It’s a month for prioritising, honouring your heart and putting routines and acts of self-care into place for the year ahead. Keep that in mind as we look at the gifts of inspiration which the card Listen brings us.

In today’s society there is so much pressure upon us to impress, to succeed, to be noticed and thought well of. We’re praised for pushing through, for not making waves, for not crying or falling apart. We’re led to believe that we need an Instagram-worthy life and encouraged to seek out or create those moments. We’re pushed to get a better job, a bigger house, fancier tech and more peak experiences, and to make sure we provide those for our children while protecting them from the dangers of the world. Meanwhile, anxiety, depression, social disconnection and loneliness are at an all-time high.

Which begs the question, What if most of what we have been told will make us happy is wrong?

Listen shows us that no matter how lost we may feel there is always a part of us that knows what will help us to feel better. There is always a wise part of ourselves that knows what truly matters in our life, and in the wider world.

Listen brings us life-changing wisdom this week. It encourages to tap into our feelings of vague uneasiness, insecurity, boredom, resentment, unhappiness or discontent. These are surface emotions – red flags we can follow to get to a deeper truth. All we need to do is keep asking ourselves Why do I feel this way? and then get quiet and wait for answers and insights.

Listen is about doing Soul Work – about caring enough for ourselves that we get off the mind-numbing treadmill of busy-ness and habit, and start tuning in to our Soul’s truth.

Expect to get greater clarity about your relationships, career, health and life direction as you tune in to your inner voice.

Listen is also about being present with those around us. It’s about taking the time to be in the moment with them, opening ourselves to the deeper truths in what they are trying to share with us so that we can help them to feel more understood. Which in turn helps us to understand ourselves better too. It’s a beautiful week for reconnection, for beginning a new and better dialogue, and for embarking on healing old hurts and misunderstandings with the ones you love.

Supportive crystals this week?

Green Jade works with your Heart Chakra to bring balance and integration of Body, Mind and Spirit. It is positive and nurturing, strengthening self-worth. Citrine supports your Solar Plexus Chakra and sense of identity. It is a stone of abundance, clearing blocks of low self-worth and creating flow. Turquoise (pictured) encourages empathy, compassion and the ability to slow down and stay grounded. Amethyst helps you to let go of emotional baggage and invites positive personal and spiritual transformation.

turquoise meaning

Helpful essential oils?

Basil will help with moving you to a place of emotional and spiritual renewal, and aids focus and concentration. Frankincense helps shift grief and trauma, and centers you in your intuitive wisdom.  Wild Orange uplifts mood and replaces anxiety with a grounded optimism. It’s my favourite oil to use when I am anxious or feeling flat. These oils can be diffused on their own or in combination.

I’m passionate about essential oils and their capacity to support our wellness journey and our spiritual and emotional wellbeing. If you’d like to know more or want to source the oils I recommend and trust visit this site or contact me at channelnc@gmail.com

Extra Support For Your Year
Need help to connect to your inner wisdom and soul energy? I have limited hard copies of my beautiful YOM 2019 Planner left. If you purchase one, or one of the Planner packs (that also have new year direction readings, meditation malas or crystals with them) I’ll gift you a month’s free access to my community and membership site (and a chance to win a year’s free membership!) so you can experience my work, and be well supported to start your year.

You can access the Planner and Planner Packs here in our store or read more about them here.

Guided Meditation Bundle

I’ve also bundled together four powerful guided downloadable meditations and created a companion workbook to support you in your spiritual journey. The Stardust Connection Meditation Bundle will help you to connect with and explore Earth Energies, Ancestor Energies, your Solar Plexus energies and personal power, and the Stardust Energies. There is over an hour’s worth of Guided Meditations and a 38-page workbook. The workbook holds specific instructions for using the four guided meditations, as well as journalling activities and reflection/awareness exercises.

The material in the Stardust Connection Meditation Bundle can be used at any time over the next four years, and beyond. My intention with this bundle is to help you become confident in your direction, your intuition, and your contribution to the unfolding history of the world and humanity. To access the bundle or to learn more about it go to my store or click on this link.

Go gently this week, tune in to your own inner wisdom and to the present moment, and remember to take some time for yourself and what matters to you.

Lots of love, Nicole ❤ xoxo

PS: Monday’s oracle card, ‘Listen’, is from the Peace Oracle. I use any cards shown as a prompt for channelled messages and my own own intuitive wisdom, so my take is sometimes quite different to the meaning found in a book. 

A Little Nicole Update

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“People who want a cure, provided they can have it without pain, are like those who favour progress, provided they can have it without change.”
~ Anthony de Mello

 

So, here I am, still in hospital.

There have been a few little bumps in the road, including a massive resurgence of lyme symptoms and herxing, post-operation, as I was filled with what seemed like enough antibiotics and other drugs to treat an entire small pox-ridden and hurting country. My poor body has endured a bit of a rough ride. I’m bruised and bloated and scarred and bandaged. Wings of my hair have literally gone white overnight. It’s oddly fascinating.

As well as my four-hour surgery, I have needed to deal with unexpected bladder problems and surgery, lyme-induced loss of vision in my left eye, loss of balance, light sensitivity, bone and nerve pain, raging insomnia and terrible constipation and nausea from my pain meds.

And still, my doctors are pleased with my progress and I am healing well.

Between the pain, the constant intrusion of nurses doing observations, and the insomnia, that’s a lot of time awake. That’s a lot of time unable to be filled with television or books or iPad games or writing thanks to my dodgy eye. (I am writing this with a 200% screen magnification and one eye resolutely screwed closed. It’s taken me about fifteen spurts of energy and then rests to get all of this written; not my usual efficiency – but these are unusual circumstances.)

What can you do when you are in pain and unable to use external distractions? When you want to be able to work on your book but you can’t see to read the words?

I can happily report that I have spent most of the past eight days back in the Kimberley, with my Aboriginal Aunties. Using my imagination and memories as a portal I have returned again and again to the places and people so dear to me, and that form the backbone of my memoir.

I have sat with the late night silence and the loneliness, and spun them into a ladder to elevate me beyond my pain.

I have practiced deep listening.

I have meditated, and I have prayed.

I’ve also time-travelled back into myself. The hours between eleven pm and four am seem well-suited to reflection and analysis of my life. I’ve dug deep into places I had long covered over. What did I really feel? Why did I really make one choice over another? What emotions were in my body? Where was my head? I’ve strung the answers like beads on a mala, knowing that as I hold each one when I am able to come back to my writing I will remember, and that this new understanding will better inform my work. I’ve come to a more honest place. A kinder place. There has been much forgiveness this past week, of myself and others. My stay in hospital has gifted me clarity, and a way forward, finally, to be able to finish this book of mine, and get it ready to send out into the world.

The other thing I have done is gather life stories and vignettes; stories about the nurses and their lives, stories from cleaners and room service tray attendants, from the other patients who are limping slow laps of the ward as they push their drip stands or lug their wound drainage bags and catheter bags, tales from ward orderlies and the lady who brings the morning newspapers. People are endlessly fascinating to me, and their shared stories remind me that we are so alike in our differing journeys and struggles.

For we all face struggles. That is the nature of life. If it’s not one thing, it’s something else.

Even so, it’s a beautiful journey, life. I’m very grateful for mine.

Things will be back to normal, little by little, here on the blog and in my everyday world. I’m okay with things needing to be slow. Slow is all I can do for now.

I’ll swing by here again just as soon as I’m able.

Hugs and love, Nicole <3 xx

 

 

Listening as a Healing Tool

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“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
~ Mary Oliver

 

Unexpectedly, yesterday afternoon, I felt a sadness descend upon me.

At first I tried to ignore it.

Then, to laugh it off.

I immersed myself in busy-ness.

But it didn’t go away. Instead it settled on my bones like a numbing fog.

Until I could barely think or move or breathe.

I couldn’t think why. I couldn’t shift it at all. I was burdened with this great weight.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, I climbed the hill behind my little farm house and sat down in the thick plush grass of the old orchard. The hill continued on behind me, and I felt safe with it at my back. The sun shone above me. And as I sat I remembered my old Aboriginal Aunty, and what she said to me once, when I was experiencing a similar kind of sadness, brought on by homesickness and worry.

Just go outside, she said. Go sit down, and listen a lil bit.

Listen to what? I asked.

Just listen. All dem answers come when you just listen. Go on, go now. Sit. Be quiet. Open your eyes. Open your ears. Be alive with listening.

An Aboriginal woman sits by rock carvings in Western Australia. Photograph: Medford Taylor/Getty

An Aboriginal woman sits by rock carvings in Western Australia. Photograph: Medford Taylor/Getty

Be alive with listening. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard? Such wisdom in those words.

Yesterday, remembering that, I sat quietly, with nature all around me.

I listened.

I waited.

I trusted…

I heard the grass finches chirping and peeping and flitting from place to place. I heard the birr of their wings. I heard the rush of air as a flock of fat pigeons flew overhead.

I heard my husband down on the flats by the river, driving the tractor that tows the spike aerator. I smelled the good clean scent of dirt and grass.

I filled my ears and there was more and more to hear. Bugs and beetles and birdsong and cows. A distant call from a renegade rooster.

I heard the sleepiness of Sunday afternoon. I heard Harry and Bert playing dog wars in the back yard. I heard the rustle and creak of the heavy boughs of the Sydney gums as the wind shifted and the salty afternoon air blew in from the bay.

The afternoon shadows grew longer, and still I sat.

The sun warmed my skin. The breeze tangled my hair. The grass tickled my calves.

I heard my heart beating. I felt its pulse strong and steady in my throat. In my ears. In my hands.

As I listened something inside me grew larger –  a vast lake of silence – and I found myself rowing out into the middle of that lake in the small boat of my mind. There I bobbed, every breath a ripple taking me closer and closer to what it was that was troubling me so.

Image from macwallhd.com

Image from macwallhd.com

I remembered, then.

Being with my friend Angela as she died. Holding her hand, whispering comforts, and watching the flickering artery in her neck through translucent skin that was stretched too thin over her bones.

At first you could see the beat was steady but weak.

As the afternoon and then the night dragged on that flickering pulse became weaker. The beat more irregular. Her breathing too. I waited to see if each breath might be the last. If that flickering pulse would slow to a stop. But I was busy then, holding space for Angela, helping ease her into that place of transition. Being the support crew for her and her loved ones. I sang to her, I whispered, I anointed her with oils, I helped her to die. It was all for her. There was no space for me to feel my feelings. Not then. I was busy holding that space of peace and love and oneness.

Yesterday, in the sun with the hill at my back I remembered my own pain, and tears ran down my face. I tapped into a grief and a rage so strong it felt as if I were the one who couldn’t breathe, couldn’t flow, couldn’t find my peace.

It all came flooding out and I let myself cry until there were no more tears.

 

Then I listened some more.

I felt the earth cradling my bones. I felt the breeze caress my cheek. I heard the throb and drum of my own strong heart. I heard the trees breathing. I heard the earth sighing. I heard the world turning.

The first stars came out as the sun sank behind the curve of the horizon. My little farm house lit up with a soft glow from the kitchen light. I could see Ben come up from the river paddock and call the dogs home. He glanced up and saw me sitting in the grass and pulled the door to, happy just to know where I was.

I remembered how peaceful Angela was, after my work with her. How I helped her find that place of sanctuary.

I heard the truth of that place being whispered back to me by the earth, the sky, the trees, the stars. I heard the truth of everything being perfect in each moment. I felt the peace in my own heart. I felt it sink into my bones, until I was light with the weightlessness.

I came back down to my little farmhouse, cooked an omelette, took a shower, and crawled into bed. The windows were flung wide. I was still listening, and the earth and the moon and the stars and the sky kept whispering their comforts to me. I fell asleep to their song.

“The earth has music for those who listen.”
~ George Santayana

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