Sitting In The Dark With A Stranger

“We feel most alive when we are closest to death.” 
~ Nenia Campbell

I’m in Adelaide right now, staying on my own while I write and work and attend a conference. After dining with friends last night I went back to my hotel and, on a whim, decided to go and check out the outside pool and spa area even though the night was cool and not much good for swimming.

The area was in darkness, but the buildings around us were lit up and pretty and the night sky’s stars twinkled above me. It was so peaceful, there on the roof, and so I sat down in the closest chair to enjoy a few moments of solitude and connection.

‘It makes you feel small and big all at once, doesn’t it?’ said a voice quietly beside me.

I looked around to see an older man sitting in the shadows a small distance away.

‘Yes,’ I answered. Then I apologised for interrupting his peace, for I was sure that I had. I stood up and excused myself, wishing him a good night and was almost back at the door which led to the lifts when I found myself returning to the pool, my legs walking me there all by themselves so it felt.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt again,’ I said, ‘but I just wanted to check that you’re okay. Are you okay?’

‘No, not really,’ he said. ‘Actually…’ and then he paused for a long time before clearing his throat, ‘I’m not really sure how I feel.’

I sat in the seat beside him, both of us looking out at the night sky and the pretty lights. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked.

He sat there for a long time, the silence thick between us.

‘I went to the doctor today,’ he said, finally. ‘I’m from the country, about six hours drive from here and I came down to town to get my results. They’re not good.’

The silence between us changed, linking us somehow in that quiet space.

‘I knew they wouldn’t be good,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t think they’d be as bad as they are. He said I had maybe two good months left. Maybe less, and then everything would turn to shit and then I’d be gone within another month, tops. If I was lucky. He was a nice young bloke, that doctor. Kind, and I could tell he was talking straight with me, and sort of cushioning the blow a bit…’ He breathed out, a long heavy sigh. ‘But it’s a lot to take in, and sitting in my room I felt suddenly like I couldn’t breathe unless I could see the sky. So I came out here to sit and think about it a bit and try to take it in. And then you turned up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It must have been a shock.’ We sat there a while longer and then I reached across and took his hand. He clung to mine tightly, his hand warm and dry in mine, and suddenly we didn’t need words at all.

We sat there for an hour, just holding hands and then he said to me, ‘You’re shaking with cold. Come on, let’s go to the bar and I’ll buy you something to warm you up.’

So we sat downstairs in the almost empty bar until midnight, him nursing a fine cognac and me sipping peppermint tea, and I talked to him about dying, and about getting his affairs in order and how he could best manage what was ahead of him, given that he was an older man estranged from his only son, and with his wife passed on from a car accident nearly twenty years ago.

We talked honestly and openly and I shared all I could and on the back of a bar napkin we made him a plan. Then I gave him my phone number, hugged him and went to say goodbye.

He hugged me again, fiercely, and then he pulled me closer and whispered, ‘I was praying tonight to a God I haven’t believed in since Maggie died, and then you turned up. Thank you. I swear you were sent by the Angels, love. Bless you.’

We parted with tears in our eyes and then I went back upstairs to my lonely hotel room, threw the curtains wide so I could see that pretty night sky and I sat in the dark with a full and aching heart from the beauty and savagery and majestic synchronicity of life, and I cried.

Morning Healing Meditation Mandalas

“Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.”
~ Richard Wilbur, Collected Poems, 1943-2004

“The period between four and six in the morning is called the Brahmamuhurta, the Brahmic time, or divine period, and is a very sacred time to meditate. ”
~ Swami Satchidananda, The Yoga Sutras


And now on my travels I find myself in Cebu.

In this corner of the Philippines I still wake each morning at 4am to meditate in my room, after which I go sit on the empty beach for a while to watch the day dawn.

Yesterday morning I decided to make an impromptu crystal mandala to dedicate to the healing and wellbeing of a little girl named Imogen.

It’s a restful and evocative process, to create such a focal point for meditation and healing. I worked with what I had to hand – a stone from my pocket, a bracelet from my wrist, some flowers and leaves from nearby plants.

I enjoyed the process so much that I have decided to make a new healing mandala every day while I am here in Cebu.

Here is Imogen’s mandala. It features a Prehnite, Rutilated Quartz, frangipani and bouganvillea. And a whole lot of love.

By the time you read this post I may have already made this morning’s mandala. But you can be part of tomorrow’s.

Tomorrow I will be meditating on healing of childhood hurts, old family pain and ongoing issues, self-worth issues, insecurities and damaging or limiting stories imposed upon you by others. I’ll also be working on your base chakra, heart health and emotional security. If you’d like to be specifically included please add your name below or over on our facebook page.

Much love, Nicole <3 xoxo


Don’t Isolate Yourself When the Going’s Hard

“No person, trying to take responsibility for her or his identity, should have to be so alone. There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep, and still be counted as warriors.”
~ Adrienne Rich


I’ve noticed a worrying phenomena lately. People are going to great lengths to make their life look incredible for social media, while behind the scenes they suffer alone and unsupported.

What happened that suddenly we can only talk up the good stuff, instead of living truthfully in the world?

As our extended family structures break down, and we become more and more remote from our neighbours and communities, we become more emotionally isolated.

We stop inviting people through the door. We stop sharing the small everyday details of our lives. Instead, we carefully curate our instagram images and facebook feeds.

There is a power to living vulnerably and being able to be open about our feelings and our lives.

Of course I advise using your intuition and discretion. Not everyone is a safe pair of hands. But with so many people stressed and overwhelmed by life, with rates of anxiety and depression and chronic illness escalating, with many of us caring for children with special needs, or single parenting or caring for elderly or ill loved ones, all of us need that extra boost that caring human connection can bring.

Image by Black-Avenger on

Image by Black-Avenger on

It can give us a powerful injection of hope or resilience to find that someone else has experienced our situation or feeling. We become less isolated. Our problem becomes more a condition of life than some shameful thing to be hidden away behind the posts of artfully photographed meals or ‘effortlessly gorgeous’ glamour outfits.

My Nana always used to tell me that a problem shared is a problem halved. As a young girl that never made much sense to me, but I can see the wisdom in it now, and I agree with that wisdom entirely.

Sometimes we genuinely do need to pull back to recalibrate our sense of centre, but please don’t isolate yourself entirely. Find ways to reach out, to ask for help, to sit in the company of others, to be able to share or smile or laugh or cry with people who welcome you into their space and allow you the freedom to feel (rather than hide) your emotions.

If you know someone who is going through a rough patch, reach out to them. Let them know that they’re not alone. Ask them if they’re okay.

We’re all in this together, and no-one’s getting out alive. Let’s all practice kindness for self and for our fellow journeymakers and make life’s journey better and more real and supported for everyone.

Sending so much love your way,

Nicole <3 xx

Requiem For These Passing Moments

“Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.”
~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“It all goes away. Eventually, everything goes away.”
~ Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love


Sometimes, life is so exquisitely painful that I can scarcely breathe.

Is it odd then, that I find those moments compellingly beautiful too?

I’m not talking about the human me. Not the me who is down there on the floor sobbing in great ugly gulps, or stumbling endlessly through the paddocks with eyes streaming and a great big hole inside me. Or the me sitting silent, numb from shock and horror.

Not, not that me.

There is another me. An eternal me. A me filled with wisdom and kindness and so much love that if all of that soul energy were to dwell within me I would burst open and be nothing but sparks and flame.

That eternal me sat with me last night and held my hand. As I sat at my kitchen table and wrote, earphones delivering me a steady stream of musical novocaine, tears blurring the screen, the keys, the outside world, I was able to slip into that wise observer me and see how alive I was in my pain. How aware I was of the fragility of life. How humbled and overcome all at once. How connected I was with all other souls in this journey of joy and suffering.

Oh lovelies, this is such a wild and mysterious and crazy ride, this thing we call life.

We are, all of us, okay. Even when we’re not.

Holding you in my prayers and meditations,

Nicole <3 xx


All The Ways You Never Knew You Matter

Image by Heather Hummel

Image by Heather Hummel

“Even very little things can change your destiny and throw you to a different path, to a different fate; you must never forget that even very little things have great powers!”
~ Mehmet Murat ildan


Sometimes we play a bigger role in the lives of other people than we can know. Your actions, choices and decisions ripple out before you, in waves of influence you will never be able to truly comprehend.

Yesterday on my facebook page, a dear woman named Jo who had a psychic reading with me last year wrote:

One year ago today you changed my life. You showed me what my life could be, and why things had happened the way they did. I have so much gratitude towards you that my heart is really too full for words. You helped lift such a massive weight off my shoulders. I would say that 90% of my PTSD healing came from your simple words “It was not your fault, your body didn’t fail you.” I will never forget that (and it still chokes me up), and although I struggle with the side effects of PTSD, I know that it happened for a reason, and that reason will be put to good use in the future. Thank you so much, you did so much for me in those 90 short mins <3

Another friend, Robyn, (yep I often become friends with people like Jo who come to me for readings or as students – birds of a feather flock together and all that…), wrote :

to Jo,  I may not know you, but I so love to hear someone making such a positive change in their life. Such simple words can be so powerful! Nicole you are awesome!

Oh my goodness.

The groundswell of emotion that rose in me when I read both of those messages… I can’t begin to tell you. My heart thumped in my chest, my eyes filled with tears. I needed to make myself a cup of tea and go sit quietly in the garden for a while.

We’re all so amazingly connected. This little conversation on facebook was proof of that. Our love and caring, our smallest gestures of support, build bridges for each other in times of trouble. At the time it might seem so inconsequential, but these small actions can have huge flow-on effects.

Image from

Image from

How timely that Robyn noticed Jo’s post. How timely that she commented and that I was there to see it.

Because I had something very important that needed to be said.

I sat in the garden, had a little cry, drank my tea, and watched the birds awhile, until I had myself under control and could come back inside to my computer.

With a lump in my throat I write Robyn a comment of my own.

Hugs to you, Robyn – but you’re the one who is awesome – after all, it was YOU, my darling friend, who encouraged me to embrace the new, the morning I woke up on my thirtieth birthday and could suddenly see auras. If it weren’t for you I think I may have jumped off a bridge that day xx

So you see, I was there for Jo when she needed me. But I was able to be there for Jo because one day seventeen years ago Robyn was there for me.

It all sounded kind of jokey and lovey on facebook, but the reality of my birthday long ago was anything but. I’m not kidding when I say that Robyn saved my life that day. I almost went crazy with distress back then. It was a dark and confusing place, and I was questioning my very existence.

I’ll tell you all about it in tomorrow’s post. It’s time. It’s a story that needs to be shared.

Be kind to each other today, and never doubt the difference you can make, simply by being you, and taking  a moment to reach out to another.

Much love, Nicole <3 xoxo

My Christmas Eve Gift to Myself

byron sunrise

“Just imagine becoming the way you used to be as a very young child, before you understood the meaning of any word, before opinions took over your mind. The real you is loving, joyful, and free. The real you is just like a flower, just like the wind, just like the ocean, just like the sun.”

~ Miguel Angel Ruiz


We’re having a simple Christmas this year. Just my husband and I, Nurse Bert and Cafe Dog. For most of the day anyway. Our little farm-house is filled with love, badly wrapped gifts under a small lopsided tree with dodgy tinsel and over-sized baubles, and a fridge full of good food – more than enough to share.

Christmas has not always been an easy time for me. Family stuff. You know how it is. But a few years ago I decided to reclaim Christmas, to see it as an opportunity to spread ‘peace on earth and goodwill to all men’.

Starting first with myself.

Today, Christmas Eve here in Australia, I’ll walk on the beach, swim in the ocean, take some time for myself, count my blessings, hug my husband and my dogs, and top up my gratitude tank. Breakfast in the Bay (that’s Byron Bay!) and a good coffee or two. That’s my gift to me.

Then I’ll be ready for sharing the Christmas Spirit with others.

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We’ll be dropping off our goody bags of homemade festive fudge, coconut ice, rich fruit cake and other tasty treats to all of the people who’ve helped and supported us this year. The library ladies, baristas and wait staff, the market vendors, the excavator man, and the bush mechanics, and the man who is always fixing our mower/chainsaw/everythingfromtheshed.

We’ll call on a few elderly friends to make sure they are okay, and take them a little parcel of Christmas cheer.

This afternoon I’ll make a pot of tea and sit on the veranda with my journal, reviewing the year that was, and being thankful for all I’ve come through, and all that has cracked my heart wide open. It’s been a big and challenging year, but a good one too.

I’ve told our friends we’ll be home all day tomorrow, apart from an early morning beach swim. Bless them, they want us to have time alone. So we will. But late in the afternoon a few will drop by, despairing of the loneliness and emptiness that has been their day, and we’ll gather them around our table. A couple of friends will come here needing a debrief after the family Christmas they just endured. Our home and our arms will be open to them. There is always enough food here to share. Enough love to go around. For so many this is a difficult, fraught time of year. I want to be able to give our friends a safe place to land, and somewhere they can feel welcome, affirmed and loved.

But today, Christmas Eve, this is my day for me.

A day to breathe deeply and surrender myself to the ocean.

A day for lattes and love, and so many cuddles.

Peace in my heart. Good will towards myself. Me first, so that I can then share that same energy with others. For me, that’s the true spirit of Christmas.

I’m holding that space for you too.

All my love, Nicole xx

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A Busy Night

“When the world is itself draped in the mantle of night, the mirror of the mind is like the sky in which thoughts twinkle like stars.”
~ Khushwant Singh, Delhi


It’s a short blog today. Sorry. I was up most of last night talking with a client whose daughter was involved in a horrendous unfolding drama. She’s safe now. But it was a hard day for them.

After which I chatted to a friend who was up in the middle of the night, drinking coffee, cleaning and reading poetry because her heart was breaking and she felt all alone, even as her children slept safely beneath her roof.

Life is so beautiful, even amid the suffering and pain.

I stepped outside last night, before I finally went to bed to claim a few hours sleep.

The night sky was filled with stars.

The air was soft, and fragrant with blossoms after the recent rain.

Remember to breathe today. Take a moment to fill yourself with beauty. And with hope.

All is well.

There is so much goodness surrounding us.

Remember that.

Live that.

Be part of that goodness today.

Spread that positive hope-filled energy and love into our world.

Bless xx


Musings on Early Morning Magic

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“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
~ W.B. Yeats


I am sitting on the veranda of my retreat bedroom, looking out over the quiet, still bay. It’s cool this morning, and cloudy. A ribbon of pink light is beginning to colour the sky, slowly growing brighter and widening its arc.

It feels quite primal. There is the energy of the trees and giant tree ferns, the riot of noise that is the pre-dawn chorus, with  birds of every description adding their voices to the morning song, a mob of black cockatoos circling, on their early morning patrol.

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And there is also an unseen magic in this morning air. I know this, for I can feel it, and I have recently been a part of it.

This morning, like every morning, I meditated. I meditated for myself. I meditated for healing for family and friends. I meditated for the earth, for her skies and her lands and her oceans, for all of the creatures who live upon her, and to send peace, love and oneness out into the world.

Now as I sit here, watching the bright blaze of light streaking across the horizon I can feel the energy of other early-morning meditators. I can feel the prayers being offered up by ordinary people everywhere.

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I think of the spiritual energies of the world, the fairies and the angels, the guides and energetic realms, our ancestors and loved ones passed over.

I watch the black cockatoos circling the bay. Many years ago my Aboriginal Aunties promised me they would send these birds to watch over me, and to remind me of my connection to them, to country and to my psychic work.


There is so much unseen support and love for us here, some of it from people we don’t know, and will never meet.

Please. Don’t ever feel that you are alone.

You’re in my thoughts, my meditations, my prayers. And the thoughts, meditations and prayers of many others.

Bless. Nicole xx

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Wide Awake for a Reason

Image from HitFM

Image from HitFM

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins.” ~ George R.R. Martin


If you read my post yesterday you’ll know I didn’t get much sleep the night before. So last night I put myself to sleep at eight, all ready for an early night and a decent catch-up.

Of course, things didn’t go to plan. Just after midnight I woke up. I mean WIDE AWAKE. The sort of being awake where I know I might as well get out of bed. The sort of awake which I always recognise as a precursor to psychic work. I crept downstairs, careful not to wake my husband or the sleeping puppies.

First, I meditated, and sent love and healing energy out into the world. I explain that process well here, in one of my previous blog posts.

But even after all of that night-flying I didn’t feel done.

I cranked up the computer, and sat down to write. No, that didn’t feel right either. I opened up facebook.


And there, there were the reasons I was still wide awake.

  • A dear friend and client needing to chat about her own spiritual emergence. I’ve been holding that space for her for a while and I’m thrilled that she is finally stepping into her Light.
  • A lady on the other side of the world, reaching out to me in desperation over her teenage daughter with a severe eating disorder. We managed to convince her daughter it was time to go to hospital and into a special ward for her management and recovery.
  • A client who was emotionally distraught and suicidal. I talked her through and to a better place, made sure she had some support, and I’ll check in on her again tomorrow.

Situation normal, here at Camp Cody. I certainly can’t complain about life being dull. I’m winding down now, at four am. I’ll go meditate some more, and then hop back into bed and grab another hour or so of shuteye before Cafe Dog wakes me for a morning walk, a good coffee and the weekend papers with Ben.

At least my blog is written and all I shall have to do as I tumble out the door is press PUBLISH.

Today, God willing, I shall get some sleep! 🙂 I’m not complaining though. I feel blessed to do what I do. Please, don’t ever doubt that you are loved, and that you matter.

I’ll send you some extra love and energy in this next meditation! Bless xx

Image from Diario Animales

Image from Diario Animales

A Moment of Perfect Peace


“Spirituality is not to be learned by flight from the world, or by running away from things, or by turning solitary and going apart from the world. Rather, we must learn an inner solitude wherever or with whomsoever we may be. We must learn to penetrate things and find God there.”
― Meister Eckhart

Very late yesterday afternoon I had a sudden urge to go and water my vegetable garden.

It had been a difficult day, after a series of difficult days. I’ve been in tremendous pain from my current lyme medications, and doing my best to just simply sit with that pain. I’m not fighting my pain. I’m merely breathing and being aware of the pain within my body. The pain is so intense that normal functioning is a challenge. Instead I have given in to what is. I am riding each wave until I am thrown up onto the shore once more.

It’s been an enlightening journey, and when I have the words I’ll share some of that journey with you.

But for now I am tired, after so many days of so little sleep. So let me instead tell you about watering the garden.

It was late afternoon. You know, that soft afternoon light, just before dusk comes creeping over the horizon. I uncoiled the garden hose, turned on the tap and walked down the hill to my raised vegetable beds. My feet were on the bare earth, and the grass beneath them was soft and cool. The air was filled with the song of frogs and cicadas, and the last of the birds. Mr Grunty, our resident male koala, was grunting and barking and being noisy from his spot high in the gum tree just outside the home paddock fence.

A bat flipped past, so low that I could hear the flap of its leathery wings.

All this time I am wracked with pain. My face is contorted and I can’t see out of one eye. My ears pound, and my bones are on fire. Every so often my nerves jangle as though I have been tasered.

I am standing in the garden in agony, tears streaming down my face, trying to hold the hose steady on my young plants. I wonder for a moment why I have bothered to drag myself out here at all.

The air becomes scented with mint and nasturtium. I can smell the fragrant sun-warmed tomato foliage as the water hits it, scattering cool drops onto the mulch beneath.

Image from Goodness Is

Image from Goodness Is

Above me, a crescent moon has risen. Almost directly above the old hoop pine that shelters our little farmhouse.

In that moment, hose in my hands, feet in the grass, sounds of the close of day, moon above my head, body on fire, ragged breath, head full of pain, a great peace descends upon me.

A peace so profound, a connection so complete, that more tears spill. The pain is still there. Nothing about my physicality has changed at all. But beyond that, encompassing all of that – all of me, is a wonder and awe at the beauty and grace of this universe, and of my place within it.

My pain doesn’t matter. My illness becomes irrelevant. They are merely what’s happening to me at this moment. My soul, connected to everything and everyone, is always at peace. Even in great pain. Even when it feels like my world is undone.

The knowledge fills me up. The truth seeps into my very cells.

I carry that peace back into the house, and it quietens my mind. The pain is still there. But now there is also this other presence. This great comfort.

I feel like I have touched the face of God.

Or perhaps, God touched my face.

Or it was all the same thing…

And that presence is still here with me.

All of it, every breath, every moment, is love.

The Golden Light  by bnilesh

The Golden Light by bnilesh