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The Oracle Knows

The concept of God or the Universe is given different words and paradigms by different people and spiritual paths.  I refer to the cosmic and connected sentience and balance as the Oracle.  My spiritual path is, and probably always has been witchcraft.  All that means is I honour and acknolwdge the natural world and believe we are all connected in the web of life.  If I harm anything I am harming myself.  If I help I am helping myself.  There’s far more meaningful and nuanced aspects to this journey, but I feel that’s a pretty good summary for now.

Unforunately, for me and so many people, helping has appeared to backfire disastrously. Holding out many a ladder and lifting a lot of people up in the past didn’t always turn out as planned.  Some of them kicked me square in the cunt and left me wounded and angry and wondering how anyone could be so mercenary and cruel.  

But every single situation like that has somehow left me later realizing my feet were firmly on safe and secure ground.  The Oracle’s lessons aren’t always fun or fair, but often feel very helpful when time and healing have allowed me to process situations.  From that vantage and a very safe and large distance, I’ve seen many perpetrators struggle and suffer in circles of greed and self-sabotage.  We’re all given choices, and greedy, cruel, callous, mercenary people may appear to do alright, but they take what they want and they will be forced to pay eventually.

I just want to be a consistently good person with an acutely well calibrated moral compass.  My spiritual journey as a practicing witch helps me with that, but it definitely does not define me as some people’s religions do.

Today was filled with glimmers and magic and goddess ferocity.  The Oracle blesses me with days like today.

Where to begin?

Penny has been working with us for a good many months now, and is our first official full time team member.  We’ve had our bumps and wobbles, but all in all we’re on an excellent path together and the mahi (that means work for my non-kiwi readers) she has done has transformed the farm.  

Penny is a qualified Rongoa practitioner.  We are working together to get her practice up and running and lift her to the entrepreneurial goddess level she really does have every inch of capacity to be.  She is smart, intuitive, creative, fierce, and has been knocked around enough to know exactly what is what.  Like every woman in my life, she hasn’t yet fully stepped into her own power.  Confidence is an issue for most of us, and it is my absolute modus operandi to change that, for myself and my coven.  This is our time to shine.  We gotta step into the “fuck around and find out” phase and know that we are fierce and powerful and our work and contributions have real and meaningful worth.  It is a journey we are on together.

I’ve also just returned from Rakiura.  It is a the anchor in the Maori creationist legends.  As any Kiwi knows, Maui and his brothers were in their great waka (canoe) when they fished up the North Island of Aotearoa, and the anchor to that vessel is/was Rakiura.  

We are drawn to that magical little island every year.  Granted, so are about 40,000 other people, most of whom do the three day Rakiura trek.  Maybe one day we will do that.  I kinda doubt it though.  

We first arrived there around this time of year, back in 2019 or 2020?  The place got into our bones.  There is no room for pretentiousness or flexing, it is a rough and wild and incredibly unique place where manuhiri (visitors) have to figure out the nuances and be chill or you’ll have a pretty shitty time there.  If you want five-star obsequiousness, just stay away.  Rakiura residents do not kiss anyone’s ass.  Fucking great actually.

We literally stumbled across a local who would end up becoming a very close friend on our second trip to the island some years ago.  She’s an artist and a goddess and a really great mom.  I just found out this visit that her mother was called back to the great unknown where we are all beckoned to from the moment we arrive.  She left quite suddenly only a few years ago in the month of April.  I can tell you with certaintly that her mother’s energy and Love led me down that road and to her gallery.  While I can’t quantify or qualify that statement, I know that divine feminine energy landed us there.  We needed to meet and are both much better off because we did.  I might share more of that magical story another day, but I will leave that vague and mysterious.

And last, but not least, I finished today’s divine feminine reinforcing journey with a totally impromptu dinner with my Megan.  This is a woman I met at the hair-dresser some number of years back.  I pointed her to my blog, and over the course of a few weeks, we became online then IRL friends.  

These days, her and the irrepressible Hannah are the two women I see the most as we have a habit of making each other a priority.  It was all very organic an holistic in its evolution.  I have known Hannah rather peripherally since the mid 1990’s.  Megan joined us for something at some point and the three of us were a strangely lovely fit.  You’d never think that we would be on the surface.  But all three of us are deeply disappointed with most people and prefer to slay all day and then retreat to the safety of our own four walls and be left well and truly the fuck alone.  Yet, together we seems to lift each other up.  It is safe, it is authentic and it is easy.  

So, Megan had a great week a couple of weeks ago and it all came crashing down and her perky has pissed off.  She reached out, and all other things were not as important as us catching up for a good old bitch and a moan pretty much immediately.  So off to dinner we went.  Damon joined us at the very end so we had a solid hour to ourselves which was lovely and we laughed and laughed as we always do.  Damon is often/always allowed at girl time as he is an honourary goddess and my beautiful wife.   

Damon and I also have a shared best friend who has an anaphylactic allergy to the spotlight and attention.  She knows who she is, and we three are destined to grow old dottering around making the world a slightly better place together.  She already has a solid strategy she’s been perfecting and that will be rolled out in the years ahead.  I won’t tell you her name, as she doesn’t like people talking about her, but she knows who she is.  

The whole day has also been punctuated with a running dialogue between Auriga and me on the dms. We met when Mel and I facilitated a break out group at a UN women’s leadership thing. And I popped in to be reminded that Emma was in England having a magic time. And Karen is coming for coffee on Friday morning. All wonderful witchy women, and a handful of many fierce fabulous goddesses I am blessed to know and trust.

So that was my Tuesday the 16th of April 2024.  Surrounded by fierce feminine energy and protection and lifted to a lovely level of feeling like I am finally safe and on the right path.

Whatever kind of day/week/month/year you are having, I hope you hold on tight and know that darkness fades and light and clarity come when we are kind and consistent.  It doesn’t feel like it sometimes.  

But the Oracle knows.

Thanks for reading.

Rakiura Reflections

This is our fourth, possibly fifth visit to New Zealand’s most remote and Southern island.  A village called Oban sits nestled in Paterson inlet on a beach/bay called Half Moon bay.  There’s about 400 permanent residents on the island, and they definitely all know each other.  That number would include the semi-seasonal travelers who come here to work with RealNZ tour company or score am job at the South Seas hotel for a season.

We brought my youngest son Jamie with us this time.  He will be ten in a couple of weeks. He’s had significantly reduced screen time and a marked increase in time with nature and playing happily on his own at the beach.  This a safe and lovely island where nobody drives more than 50km per hour and people look out for eachother, so we’ve felt confident allowing Jamie to venture down to the beach on his own to build his fortresses along the shoreline.  

This is a wild and often windy/grey island.  It is as far South as you can go in the archipelago of Aotearoa, but still two or more degrees closer to the equator than the vast majority of my country of birth, Canada.  Canada exists almost exclusively above the 49th parallel.  Being here has whet my appetite to disappear into the Canadian Tundra or melt away into obscurity in the Maritimes maybe.  We’d planned to purchase a plot of land and do a biodiversity/eco-tourism project in alignment with the work we are doing in Matkaana. Alas that plot seems to have been sold before we were in a position to purchase, so the oracle is steering our sites North rather than here it seems. And that’s okay. 

We will likely always return to this island regardless of having a project here or not.

The silence and birdsong here is somehow addictive.  The sound of wild kiwi and ruru at night is flanked by the sound of waves lapping on the shore, raindrops in the forest canopy, and deafening silence devoid of human technologies whirring or intrusiveness.  It sends you a little loopy at first, and then there’s a clarity that comes on the third or fourth day here, and the prospect of returning to my high-flying and undeniably stressful existence quite frankly pisses me off.

I like the quiet.  I like being far away from the people and things that annoy me.  Birdsong and crystal clear water feels much better to my weary soul than forecasts, projections, people (including myself) missing deadlines and not hitting targets, or boring insecure assholes showing ineptitude and hubris.  I am so sick of all that shit.  

Lately, I find people are mostly incredibly disappointing.  I’d say that the exceptions to this are my large community of kind and curious people, and of course, the team we have working at the farm.  Our farm team are a motley but magnificent crew indeed.  We’ve seen so much growth across the infrastructure, eco-tourism offering and plantings.  Growing confidence and competencies among the individuals who are involved has also been a joy to behold.  That includes me.  I have a heap to learn about regenerative agriculture and Rongoa still, but it has been an honour and privilege to get this far over the past five years.  I cannot understand why more teams can’t manage to be as clearly meaningfully impactful on other projects.  People seem unwilling to look at themselves or share spotlights, and that seems to be where the trouble lies. Just an observation…

So, back here to Rakliura and the present moment as I write this blog.

As is often the case when we travel the South Island, Damon is related to some of the residents here.  Although not as strong a connection as happens on the West Coast, where even the name Birchfield strikes fear or excitement into the hearts of many local who realizes you are related.  The Birchfield clan are quite famous, or infamous, depending on who you ask.  

Here, however, we are wedded to this island through my father-in-law’s elegant and very charming wife Jen.  Jen’s daughter was adopted, as it was a time when that is what you did if you were a young unwed mother, and she was welcomed into the Leask family fold as a baby and spent a lot of her childhood here in Rakiura in Leask bay.  Jen is incredibly close to her daughter who I believe lives in Invercargill and still has firm ties to the island.  

Aotearoa.  None degrees of separation it seems.  We are all very much connected.

After many visits to the island I have only one true friend here.  An elegant, kind, brilliant artist named Rebecca.  She’s very Southern in her humility and pragmatic approach. Fierce but gentle is the sense that I get, and a very talented artist as well. She has a beautiful family and a very lucky husband.  I finally met him this visit which was a lovely added bonus to our trip.  

What a different life they lead in a village of 400 people on Rakiura. They fish and forage and grow and preserve and are undoubtedly causing a fraction of the carbon footprint our international adventures are polluting this already stretched to her limit planet. They are closer to nature and the ocean and probably better humans compared to the busy, bustling, frequent flying life Damon and I whip around living.  My annual visit to see Rebecca is always a highlight of my year.  I’m not recruiting for any more friends, but feel quite lucky to count her among the few that I have and cherish.

Our time here is drawing to a close and we are heading back to Invercargill on a 8:30am flight tomorrow morning.  

Mixed feelings.  I feel we need to put together a decent post about the weird things that happen in our heads when we are here, and the amazing natural encounters we keep returning to the island to enjoy.  

But for now will just post this pithy little reflection on our time here.

Hope you are having a lovely week, whatever you are up to.  

Thanks for reading.

Take Your Stephanie To Work Tuesday

Heading up to the farm shortly and meeting my darling daughter and her very unproblematic and pleasant partner there. We shall turn over the tent and do some gardening. It’s looking great up there. I’ll try and do a little video, not that much (any) of my content ever blows up or even makes it to most people’s feeds these days (thanks boring pay to play algorithms… fuckers…)

It’s going to be a busy month. I’ve been doing my best to mo the shit out of the kids when they are with us, and for the most part these efforts have been noticed and appreciated. My daughter is particularly pleased with me momming the fuck up and being a consistent and authentic force in her whirlwind busy life. That girl is a force of nature. She works nearly full time and pulls top grades while maintaining what appears to be a healthy functional first romantic relationship and close social ties. Basically, the girl has eclipsed her mother as a functioning human on most measures and that’s fine by me. Very proud of our brilliantly bossy princess. She suffers no fools and knows what she wants. I only figured that shit out after 40. Sigh.

Darling daughter and the rest of the kids are due back at the city house for their fortnightly rotation with Damon and I from Saturday this weekend. We, however, will be in the South Island with Jamie for his annual adventure into nature.

So my fierce and fabulous stepdaughter Niko will be moving in with the big kids from the weekend through until the Friday we return from our South Island adventures.

Today, though, it is all about Steph.

We are going to garden and enjoy the farm. I will share our adventures probably.

Secluded?  Reclusive?  Deluded? Maybe We’re Just content.

I have become very dear friends with a growing number of goddesses who are quite frankly, and very reasonably, sick of everyone’s shit.  

In many cases it is women (like my own damn self) who spent their 20’s and 30’s “hustling” and burning that candle at both ends. Women out there doing whatever they had to do to juggle the utterly unobtainable and completely fabricated fairytale of “having it all”. What even is “IT” anyway? We were spoon fed this nonsense, and it is clearly is a myth. Nobody can have it all. Where would you put it? Let’s give the concept of all the heave ho and replace it with enough. Enough is achievable, and enough starts with falling in Love with our own magical damned selves.  Yet there we were, people pleasing, keeping the peace, being all things to everyone all the time.  Oof.  It was a lot.  And so many of us got stuck in that lane.

We are tired.  Most of us really prefer our own company these days, and if we are going to venture outside of the safety of our nests it better be for the sake of something truly magical.

We come in all shapes, sizes and all have our own unique path that led us to enjoying our own company so deeply and decidedly over most other options.  Some played a straight bat and did absolutely everything they thought they ought to be doing for most of their lives.  Others lived with brains and bodies drenched in cortisol as they were stuck in survival mode.  Many women cram their mental, physical, and/or neurological transmission into that survival mode gear thinking it will be temporary.  A deeply life altering death, a natural or financial disaster stripping them of their home or foundations, escaping an insidiously abusive and toxic relationship and needing to start over, unforeseen and major shifts in the circumstances stripping their security, a massive health issue or addiction… whatever the thing that shakes them, these women stay so strong for too fucking long.  When they come out the other side, they are often tired and perhaps a bit jaded.  A reasonable outcome after pushing through the quagmires and battlefields of their lives.  So.  You better respect that and bring the magic if you pull them away from their solitude and safety.  I mean this.  Bring the magic or let them stay home with the cat, a cuppa, and their cosy murder mysteries.

I guess people almost always have breakthrough or rock bottom moment before they are able to mic drop and start their healing journey and find comfort and luxuriate in at least some level solitude.    Many of us used to seek distraction and validation, something somewhere shifts for so many of us though.  

I suppose sometime people also hit the absolute top of their game and acquire all the points you’d think anyone would need to clock the scoreboard of life, but the view from the summit just causes something in some divine goddesses core to go “WTF! I don’t gotta be a part of this dumpster fire any longer!” and off they fuck to live happily ever after in relative solitude as they delight in obscurity and seek meaningful and magical moments and give not a single fuck what anyone might think about them as they forge that path in whatever way they decide works for them.

Whatever the hustle, or struggle, or survival story that forges these fed-up women I currently know (and admire, and seldom see IRL but deeply Love) was, we all have one thing in common:  We do not want to leave the safety and comfort of our hearth and home unless there’s something truly glimmering and magnificent that will fill up our cup or cauldron to persuade us out that door.  I have a handful of friends who can lure me out of my cave, and travel and the farm will almost always get me up and ‘attem, and everyone has different joyful distractions that will kick them into “get up and get some shit done” gear.  I think we just aren’t wasting that energy on ungrateful people or unreasonable expectations anymore.  I like this about us.

Relentless pursuit of trying to “have it all” doesn’t really seem to turn out well.  So I would suggest we can all put that square in the fuck it bucket.

Think about those shiny celebrities and influencers we seem to admire don’t have the luxury and freedom of anonymity.  Women who own/run their own businesses often do not have the option to take regular scheduled holidays or a break when they need to if they want to pay their bills or keep their brand built to a functioning level.  Women juggling family and a career are always fucking exhausted, yes, always.  Single parents frequently do not have the time, space or emotional bandwidth to date.  But each of these situations, and any number of other scenarios has its own unique silver lining that can only be seen but the person experiencing the cloud.  

Deciding to feel happy with oneself, provided the fundamental needs of food shelter and safety are met, is a pretty great level to hit, and it feels like we all had to go through a great deal of learning, winning, losing, hope and disappointment to arrive at the point where we kinda like our own company for real.  Exhaustion and being massively misunderstood most of our lives has made many a magnificent woman retreat to the safety of her own little bubble, to read, craft, create or just savor her own sweet company and spend the day however she’d fucking like to.  

What even is “IT” anyway?  That Barbie Movie monologue went a long way to shedding light on the fact that as a woman (in the Western World, I’ll qualify, as that’s my sphere of reference) you are pretty much damned if you do, damned if you don’t. So it is okay to don’t sometimes I suggest.

So many of us are pretty angry and tired at this point.

What I have noticed over the past five fabulous years is this:  

My comfort with solitude and serenity is consistently punctuated by the clarity of generally and genuinely not giving a single last flying fuckeroo about what other people do, or what they say about me, or so many other things that used to vex me.  I don’t’ just not mind if people don’t like me, I delight in being judged, because wtf who has time for that shit?  Go ahead and waste your brain power and energy having a problem with how I live my life, that’s cool.  I am happy as a pig in mud most of the time, and almost certainly never give a second thought about what other people are doing. My fucks kick back in when we are working on something cool together, or I need to go into protect my friends and family from dumbassery mode.  I give many fucks about protecting and championing my important people and their passions. And if anyone threatens us or pulls out bullshit bully tactics that are dangerous or destructive, my mean side will still show up. When shit gets real I give all the fucks.  Because we are making magic, not being judgemental boring or vapid.  We are crones with clearly defined boundaries and we make magical things happen in this weary world.

So while most of us likely won’t opt for full-fledged shut-in status in the immediate or forseeable future. I suspect, and have observed, more and more of us are leaning comfortably into the joy of our own company.  There comes a point in many women’s lives, when the kids are getting independent and our careers have come to a point we can seriously start thinking about cashing in chips and downsizing our homes to seek an new trajectory or perhaps travel and adventure (with or without a partner, depending on choice and circumstance) and it is such a privilege to be watching us all find ourselves and grow into magical beings… who often just want to be left alone.  And that’s okay.

Thanks for Reading.

If Pain is a Gift, Today I am Blessed

On Friday last week I stayed in bed most of the day after my social battery went totally flat after we attended a beautiful send off for Damon’s uncle David at the glorious goddess Auntie Ingrid’s home.  I am a big fan of Auntie Ingrid and had a lovely time laughing with Damon’s niece, his delightful dad, and some friends and neighbours as well.  Also got to catch up with Cousin Emma who is here from Boston, and of course my irrepressible and decidedly delightful mother in law Pamela.  Her brother David completely changed the face of the music and broadcasting industries in Aotearoa, and he was much loved and well-respected pain in the ass according to the speeches and songs shared in his honour.  A giant of a man in stature, charisma, and his indominable legacy.  

So my beautiful wife Damon and I snuggled in and had a quiet day on Friday.  I decided at some point to make myself some baked beans with melted cheese on top.  A fateful decision that would have deep and disastrous consequences.

Those scolding hot beans and the molten cheese attached themselves to the roof of my mouth and seared and sizzled and burned and bubbled.  I knew I’d fucked up immediately.  Burns are an insidious suffering and the echo of thousands of heat-related injuries flooded through my accident prone body and nervous system in a flash while this latest dipshittery occurred.

It is now a week later.  I am unable to talk or eat without pain.  A trip to the dentist confirmed the extreme nature of my injury and sprays, gargles and pain killers are keeping the pain dull enough that I can read my wonderful Barbara Kingsolver novel “Unsheltered” and pause now to write this quickfire blog. 

My life is certainly not terrible.  

When shit goes wrong, as it sometimes (often) does, I am reminded just how not terrible things are as terrible things kinda waft through my consciousness and concrete reality.  

Consciousness and concrete reality are really such small parts of the magic that is existence, but we place a great deal of focus on them.  Most states pass.  Joy and euphoria come and go, as do grief and despair, pain and pleasure.  It all wafts through and it is such a fucking incredible gift to experience it from a place where I know there is hope – after living a powerless and hopeless existence for such an incredibly long time. 

I am not powerless.  I am filled with hope.  Even bad days feel like a gift as somehow, now, that I have called back my life and my boundaries to my own self.  Lately, I am good even when things are not going great.

It’s so fucking weird and awesome.  

As is customary, Damon and I have been continuing to toil away at things we both Love, and also… manage to keep our shit together (just) when dealing with truly vile and disgusting people.  These vile creatures serve very little purpose on this planet, aside from reminding sensible/kind/curious/creative people how not to be boring, cowardly and disappointing cunts.  

The world needs these horid, boring, angry, annoying people.  The deepest frustration I have observed with them, however, is that they claw and con their way to positions of some level of power despite generally never having done anything interesting or useful.  This old boys club continues to be filled with cowards and cretins and it continues to protect itself despite clearly competent aspects of society (women, minorities, thinkers, creatives, truly competent and charismatic leaders, and even kindness in general) proving to be far better and more fun for everyone and everything involved.

Days like today remind me just how glad I am to have picked a side and sticking to it though.  I choose the planet, nature, community, tolerance, creativity, art, hope, and magic.  I do not choose, seek or condone ignorance, hate, greed, fascism or privilege.  All that nasty shit is just getting way too mainstream for my liking these days, and I will stay in my lane and actively condemn it until the last breath leaves my beautiful little body.

So, having inflicted a reasonably serious injury on myself, I just have to calmly manage the pain and let it heal.  I was not stressed out, or under the influence of any drugs or alcohol, or in any sort of hurry at all.  I just made a really poor decision and a week later I am rendered rather helpless.  Still able to function, more-or-less.  Had a typically perfect catch up with my darling low-drama-llama goddess Mel and her sparkling beam of light daughter.  And have had some b’ness meetings and strategy sessions and done a wee whisp of creative work this week as well.  But through it all there is a pain that ranges from dull and controlled by the codeine to seering and excruciating.

I don’t hate it.

Suspect that the reason why I do not hate it, despite pain being genuinely unfun, there’s a comfort associated with a small but notable injury.  This that goes beyond the fact I know it will heal and I will relish feeling fit and healthy even more after going through the motions of this recovery.  I feel grateful it was not a bigger or different injury and am more grateful for the bits of me that are working and the vessel that carries me being in reasonable order most of the time.

When I was young and living through a traumatic and hellish childhood/puberty there was plenty of self-harm and poor decisions leading to injury.  Now that I am safe and removed from toxic and abusive people… well, most of them… Even pain is not what it was when things were the way they were before.  Now I’ve successfully built boundaries and started to design a safe, private, simple and very satisfying life.  I have nothing to prove and don’t need anything from any fucker these days.  

Still, I relish honest and creative collaboration and connection with a community.  I thrive in situations with perfectly imperfect people doing their best and giving an actual authentic fuck about themselves and making the world bearable for themselves and others.  Community and connection for creation not self-interest. It’s its own kind of magic.

My friends have checked in and chided at me for what is clearly on brand – if something is worth doing it is worth OVER-doing.  My beautiful wife Damon has carried on important work at the farm and rushed home to nurse me in my invalid state.  Not that he can do much.  Poor thing.  He wants so much to be helpful.  I can’t eat and talking is a chore too, so he feels a bit helpless, but his presence is calming and there’s a tenderness that is so incredibly pure when one of a couple of lovebirds is injured or unwell.  

Nurse pickles (we are dog sitting) is very concerned and helpful during my recovery ❤️‍🩹

I guess, all I am saying, is that I feel awful, and that’s somehow making me feel decidedly blessed and it is wonderful.

My mouth will heal.  My friends are divine.  My kids are all on different and fascinating paths right now and I am so stressed out by and utterly proud of each and every one of them.  And I am safe.  I am safe from gaslighting, cruelty, or scary social climbing con-artists.  I am surrounded by people who are their authentic selves and perfectly imperfect in safe and interesting ways.  Feeling shitty never felt so good.

Have a great long weekend everyone.  

Much Love and thank you for reading.

It’s All About the Moon

If you aren’t already familiar with Regina Spektor and her kick ass song “Small Town Moon” you will need to have a listen to the song at least once for the sake of clarity and reference.

Small Town Moon

One of the many “theme songs” that have followed me from my former cluster fuck of a life into this much more livable arrangement is Regina Spektor’s “Small Town Moon”.  Some of us are the poster “that girl” from this song.  Born and raised in the sticks and surrounded by trauma and trials.  Tossed under the bus and kicked to the curb but we came out scratching and biting and, by many measures, rather successful.  

Yet, I find myself stuck, once again, in the vortex of other people’s poor choices, hubris and egoistic posturing and it is REALLY affecting me.  Who’s fault is that?  Mine.

Life’s not fair, I know this.  But underestimating the part I play in making my life an equitable and enjoyable place for me and those I choose to share my journey with has proved yet AGAIN to be problematic.  Head in sand approach has never yielded me, or, I would guess, anyone else stellar results.

So here’s a little list of witchy calls to action/signs to be aware of, based on the song, you and I might be well advised to pay attention to as we go about building our ideal existences.

  1. I Wish You Wouldn’t Have Broke My Camera

We are all kind of cameras.  We take snapshots of moments in our minds and have pictures stored up of people and places and they make an album of our understanding of the world.  This album is constantly changing and sometimes people swoop in and break the lens or make you question the pictures you have taken.  If someone is being a bully, or a pain in the ass, or gaslighting you and trying to break your camera, best to get out of that space.  I have no idea if this is the intent Regina had in this lyric, but it is my take-away and how I am framing it for this blog.

  • Everybody Not So Nice

Damn people can be terrible.  Smiling assassins and snakes in the grass will arrive in your life and you will be given the gift of learning hard lessons when they do.  Old me trusted to the point of genuine stupidity and was generous to a fault.  Today, I know my worth.  I know what I serve at my table and it is warmth, and intelligence, and support and authenticity and gosh I am super funny too.  People have to genuinely earn the right to sit at my bountiful table these days, and when they do magic happens.  Wanting to see the best in people and being a wounded healer is still okay, but my stars you have to protect yourself.  My best advice for navigating people who are cruel, manipulative, opportunistic and will cause you harm is this:  Trust but verify.  See the best in people but offer nothing and protect your privacy and integrity until you have had time to research/get to know people really well.  And just as important is trusting your instincts.

  • Today We’re Younger Than We’re Ever Gonna Be

Today is a gift.  Every day is a gift.  I am a small town moon and I have flown so far South of the horizon of the teeny tiny traumatic childhood in Tomahawk Alberta.  I can’t even comprehend how my super shitty little life was anyone’s origin story, let alone mine.  Every day is an opportunity to see farther, move with more grace, breath deeper, laugh harder, and learn.  Fear does not enter into the equation and this year alone we plan to see Bhutan, Uluru, further explore Australia and Canada and the States (before it goes full blown handmaids tale).  My beautiful wife Damon and I pursue our creative dreams and he is getting to be a pretty decent photographer and I am able to write and encourage other wonderfully witchy women to be brave and shine a light on their creative shadowlands.  None of us are getting any younger, and today is absolutely the youngest we are ever gonna be.  So do the things that scare you.  Be brave. 

  • How Can I Leave Without Hurting Everyone That Made Me

This is a phase in my life where I do not have a lot of friends.  And that is okay.  I am vehemently protective of my mental health, safety and privacy.  Okay, my children say I am absolutely ruthless. There’s still a bunch of people who I adore and admire who I don’t keep in contact with and who protected me and nurtured me through the darkest days of my life.  Here and in my childhood.  If you are reading this and think you might be one of these people and I haven’t been in touch, please do know I appreciate and adore you and have no beef. Drop me a line, I probably really miss you, just been busy rebuilding and phoenix-ing through the ashes the past few years.  This is just a cocoon phase and I am happiest in solitude after being irreparably broken by people who were charged (and failed spectacularly) with protecting/supporting me.  So, hurting some of the people who “made” you by taking the darkness they handed and turning it to light, and honouring those who have respected/honoured you, well, that’s the hope going forward.  Leave but hang on to magic and let go of toxicity.  We’ve all already left the small towns in our minds.  Time to keep moving forward.  

  • Baby Baby – It’s All About The Moon

Okay, this one is proper witchy.  Did you know that the moon is actually a chunk of us that split off after a massive collision in it’s celestial infancy.  The moon is a beautiful, shining, protective guardian that keeps earth safe and controls the tides and all the water.  The moon is a magical metaphor for what definitive moments in our formative phases can mean.  Our trauma is a part of us but separate and our experiences and challenges can also serve to protect us and be incredibly powerful.  The moon cycles and shifts between shining and shadow.  As do we.  The moon comes close and journeys farther away.  The moon is a magical and meaningful celestial body, and we are all made up of the same magical star dust.  It is a part of us and we are a part of her.  Sigh.  Gosh I do love some moon metaphor. 

Okay.  That’s today’s blog.

Have a good one.  Thanks for reading!!!!

Powerfully Prophetic Dream

A couple of nights ago Damon had a really powerful dream, I’d go so far as to say it was probably prophetic.  

Damon’s Buddhist and I am a Witch.  We plod along merrily on our own spiritual paths and are curious and supportive of the inner work everyone on this earth likely has to do. We think that there’s so much we do not know or understand about even our own minds.  We also acknowledge, understand, and respect that everything and everyone is very much connected.  What we do matters.  The way we behave and the choices we make can have positive or negative impacts so it is always best to behave in a way that you can feel proud of, even, if not especially when nobody can see.  I was raised as an angry red-neck Lutheran, so I am painfully familiar with the bible. Dreams and visions play a huge and important role throughout the bible.  

Pilate’s wife dreamed quite clearly that Jesus was an innocent, good and powerful man.  She foresaw Pontius Pilate would be left with blood on his hands for killing an innocent man – and sure enough – he threw that beautiful bohemian prophet under the bus.  Pilate was by many reliable accounts a very good man.  Fair, smart, reasonable, and a charismatic leader.  Today, billions of Christians around the globe remember this act in the Apostles Creed every church service:

“Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried, the third day he arose from the dead in accordance with the scriptures and will come again to judge…” OH MY!  That stuff is tattooed on my memory.  I have no beef with Pilate or his wife.  And Jesus was clearly incomprehensibly lovely.  I wish we’d all listen more closely to his teachings.  I also wish people would definitely stop twisting his tolerant and inclusive teachings as an excuse to be actually horrible to people they don’t understand.  Seriously.  What the actual fuck is up with that dangerous nonsense.

I digress.  As I so often do…

Okay, back to Damon’s dream.

It started in a backwoods angry tiny American town.  People were unkind to each other and there was that scary kind of religious/small town vibe like in movies such as footloose or deliverance.  He felt completely bereft and out of place and happened across a child and helped this child to wash his face and the human decency of that act left the kid in his dream feeling empowered and grateful.

Scene change. 

Next he was with me and we were in a room full of women and across the hall was a room full of man-splaining rah-rah-rah-boring-dick-swinging-rhetoric-using-men who were palpably dripping with entitlement and misogyny.  And one of the goddesses in our bright and powerful room walked across the hall and left explosive powder in the middle of the room full of dipshits.  The device erupted without hurting anyone but some of the dipshits sorta got shook out of their trance they were in and walked bravely and with purpose across the hall and into the room of kind, curious, empowered women.

He woke and told me about the dreams and recalled the deep and uplifting feeling of calm and empowerment as men in the dumb room were almost set free or lifted out of a zombie state of nasty dipshittery.  The men who moved rooms were lighter and they and those who witnessed them had a sense that they’d been set free from a nasty and destructive trance.

Just a really fabulous dream.

So.  Here’s my witchy and psychological take on that whole situation.

Damon has always been an ally.  His leadership style is one of empowerment and curiosity.  He’s pretty good at spotting greatness in people and building them up to shine brighter than they thought they could.  He’s happy to step out of any spotlight to let someone else sparkle.  

I’ve observed on countless occasions now, that insecure, ignorant and cowardly people who lack creativity and vision really don’t like that.  

The people that hate us tend to trade on manipulation and archaic power dynamics.  They are likely to take credit for other people’s efforts and successes, and never accept responsibility when they clearly and irrefutably fuck up.  And in many cases they do that for a long time and leave mess of collateral damage in their self-interested wake.  Creative and innovative people have long since abandoned such clusterfuckery.  Brave, beautiful and charismatic people do the work to be reflective and effective and do not actively seek to be surrounded yes people.  They actively get uncomfortable and work through tough stuff because the view is absolutely epic from the other side of that discomfort. It is kinda awesome.  

Damon’s sister Ali (who is fierce and fabulous and definitely in the real and metaphorical room with smart strong women) once said:  We have to do the work and go to therapy for all those who refuse to take a look at themselves.

Snap.  Ain’t dat da damned truth.

I’ve said this in so many ways and on say many different occasions, but the patriarchy and status quo of isms (racism, sexism, fascism) will topple as bullies, sociopaths and entitled boys club tactics are just not yielding the results they once did.  Divisiveness and destruction absolutely, resilient or useful results, nope, no, fucking clearly not.  

Being a curious and creative character is a much better plan.  Not always easy, but definitely better.  By creating general and genuine joy that comes from having a path of purpose and authenticity you will notice yourself being super annoying to greedy, short-sighted, inane and cruel dinosaurs.  I relish pissing them off, and we laugh and laugh at their dipshittery and deflection as our existence seems to just get better and better the farther away from them we are able to place ourselves.

So that is how I am framing his dream.  We are on the right track.  There’s faces to be wiped clean and so many truly incredible people acting with grace, curiosity, hope and humility.  I know that keeping a low profile and getting our own shit in order has been an important and necessary stage in our narrative.  But we also know that there are a lot of really unjust, and terrifying problems that will require bravery, action and a mobilised and empowered community to face head on.

I am not in any mood to start a revolution or revert to my days of having zero boundaries and no capacity for self-preservation.  My messiah complex is not set to return as I adore the safety and comfort of my meaningful little life.  

I do, however, feel that we, along with many incredibly brave and beautiful individuals, are already immersed in a quiet revolution.  

This is a revolution of vision, sensitivity, sensibility, connection and curiosity.  Acknowledging the need to return life, vitality and biodiversity to our soils, clean up our waters, and feed hope, connection and kindness is clear.  People are aware and they are behaving in ways that embrace this.  From zero-waste to carbon divestment and the serious wave of regenerative agriculture communities, movements and practices, good things are thriving globally.  We also have acknowledged the need to starve greed, short-sightedness and sociopathic consumptive cycles.  Change is coming, and we have to prepare.  We can lead and manage that change or there will be a catastrophic shift and reboot and even bigger and more disruptive changes will be thrust upon us.

At any rate.  We gotta be brave and clever not cowardly and cruel.

Damon’s dream felt like a sign and a reminder that we have work to do, but we are not alone as we aim to get some good shit happening. 

That’s all for today.

Thanks for reading.

I AM My Hero!

So, currently, the state of play is oscillating wildly between anger, shame, joy, grief, hope, despair, and then… probably some more anger.  This is my angry stage of the healing journey.  

The reason for this blog is to remind everyone who bothers to read my shit that the journey is about progress, not perfection and YOU are always the only person who can save yourself.  Absolutely futile waiting for someone to come along and rescue you.  You gotta do that shit for your own damned self.

The reason this has sprung to mind in particular lately is this.

My wonderful wife Damon is fucking next level lovely.  He is beautiful, kind, smart, brave, patient, ambitious and recently he’s suggested we ought to get fit and fabulous so we can get back to some healthy middle aged tantric type sex, which requires core strength and a sense of adventure.  Seriously, he is annoyingly wonderful it can make my eyes roll.

While all this is absolutely true, and we have had five lovely years as a dedicated couple and been married for nearly two years, I must take a moment to remind the world and myself that this safe and functioning relationship is a symptom of the intense and occasionally excruciating inner work I have been doing since my second severe nervous breakdown in 2019.

People sometimes elude to or outright say things like “Oh you are so lucky, Damon saved you!”

Erm.

What now?

I saved me.  I fucking got my drunk boundaryless ass out of the hostage situation with my first marriage.  I stared down my demons and now I dine quite comfortably with most of them.  I did the therapy and the work.  I built a healthy and accountable culture with a few good friends and severed ties with anyone who was not brave enough to be actively supportive of my evolution.  Steve and I remain civil.  That’s all I will say about that. And I choose that civility too.  Me.  I saved me. 

This does not mean I am not grateful for the support and accountability that are offered by the chosen few I let near me these days.

Had a lovely time at the P!nk concert with two of the winners of the Love Letter to Yourself competition and I couldn’t cope with how people-y the whole situation was after a while.  Luckily Sev felth the same way and we nipped out and headed home early.  There’s a word for being on the same page/frequency in Turkish and it is Bilmukabele.  It is more nuanced than this, but it is a state that I enjoy with Sev.  We are both beautifully broken and brave goddesses and unafraid to do the work that is required.

On the walk we talked about how much we have both changed and how at some point in our deeply feeling and cortisol laden journeys we each figured out that the issues in our lives always, always, remained rooted in us.  We’ve struggled and battled and felt uncomfortable in our own skin and been angry at people who Love us.  Today we are both doing pretty great if I might be so bold as to say so.  We have Loving stable partnerships and great friendships.  We are both exhausted a lot of the time, but on balance, pretty happy people.  Why?  Because we stopped blaming and deflecting and started very brave journeys inward.

We have boundaries, and see beauty everywhere.  We are talented, complicated and so fucking brave I can’t even begin to express how proud I am of both of us.  

Life’s not perfect and there’s still daily battles and a huge amount of effort required to stay on track and continue to evolve into the women we deserve to be.

But, I just needed to say to anyone who stumbles across this that it is you that will absolutely be your own greatest hero in this life.  

Big Love thanks for reading.

Not A Secret

The Internet is full of clickbait lists and “hacks” to help humans who are busy chasing dopamine while the proclivity to happiness evades them.

Happiness still often evades me. I feel pretty sad and powerless a reasonable amount of the time, but that’s really not a huge problem imho. That’s the condition we are all in.

I can, however, say with confidence that this stage of my life is by far the happiest and most peaceful I have had the pleasure of living through.  A lot of terrific and terrible things have happened to, and because of my-silly-little-learning-self and my choices and the chances I have been given or made.

Feeling decidedly comfortable being home but absolutely champing at the bit to keep moving and planning and researching to decide what the future looks like for us.  My trauma left me in a pretty constant state of flight or fawn and I don’t feel like fawning or placating anyone anymore, so fly I must.  I will always touch down long enough to check in with some of my special people.  Never really know what that looks like or how long it will be between connecting.  And that’s okay.

We returned to Aotearoa from Japan last week and the beautiful home we rent is clean, the bags are unpacked, and everyone in the family is doing things they need to or make them happy.  Jamie is tucked up in bed after a huge day out running errands together. Steph is at work, Daniel is recovering from some kind of man-flu (not covid), River is hanging with his cousins and friends, Damon is visiting his daughter and having a swim in the warm summer ocean over on the shore.  And my asshole cat is in the yard being an asshole and soon he will thump loudly down the hall with his three legs and jump into bed and fall asleep next to me.  

The farm (our newest and my personally most rewarding venture) has been well-managed with three lovely capable witchy women employed to manage turn overs and ensure guests are greeted with clean sheets and enough marshmallows to roast on a crackling fire.  I am very pleased and very proud of the people who manage and contribute to that growing venture, and reminded that I am not capable nor interested in overly ambitious projects or any level of HR.  People are beautiful and complicated and generally and genuinely I don’t understand them.

Nor, do I care to.  I am not here to understand people.  I thought perhaps I was at one time.  And then, I tried very hard to connect and consider people and their motivations and meaning every chance I had.  That ended disastrously.  

I think, perhaps, I am here to live the next part of my life in peace and occasionally write something down that someone somewhere might find useful, comforting or perhaps confronting enough to consider change if change is called for.  Not my place to say or assume.  

Maybe, though, really all I need to do, is just be.  And of course, as I hope will be printed on my epitaph if I am given one… try in earnest not to be a cunt.

I do not have a any particuilar secrets to share on how any other person can get to the comfortable state of not giving a fuck, yet still feeling genuinely grateful and engaged.  I know that my own road to this place was fucked right up in innumerable ways, and if I were given the choice to make the same choices all again I am not certain which ones I would change.

But I can offer you some observations.  I’ll even make a list:

  1. True Love means trial, error, gratitude and actually being with someone who cares as much if not more about your happiness than their own and vice versa; I don’t know that any of us are guaranteed this opportunity.  Nothing ventured nothing gained
  2. You are already a miracle

Regardless of your spiritual or scientific leanings, the likelihood of you being here is incomprehensibly small, it is worth reminding yourself of that in both the good and bad bits.

  • Gratitude is like a fertile chestnut that will grow into a mighty oak

A thank you goes a long, long way.  Withholding or denying yourself or others genuine gratitude does not go un-noticed.  The amazing thing about gratitude, like kindness, is that it doesn’t actually cost you anything to share or honour, yet will pay off in multiples.

  • If you care to have good friends be one – be the friend you most need for yourself!
  • Everything and nothing actually matters – Butterfly effect, physics, spirituality… cause and effect.  Everything we do affects and effects things we see and do not see.  Yet the infiniteness of the cosmos kinda embraces and swallows us all up, no matter what we do.  So drop pebbles of kindness and curiosity into the pond of the infinite universe and let those beautiful ripples radiate.  No need to risk actively engaging with negative, destructive or ingnorant ripples.  Nope nope nope.  I reckon there’s some serious consequences for actively engaging in badness, even if I have no way of quantifying or confirming it, it feels really real.
  • Laugh – don’t underestimate the power of a whole being belly laugh to move things around.
  • Ask questions – you know the saying, you won’t know if you don’t ask
  • Do it – sometimes it’s best to act first and think later – but check your gut first on this one
  • Say it, someone else is probably holding the same thought or question and will appreciate your having the courage to speak their thoughts
  • No is a full sentence that shouldn’t need any explanation
  • You can’t necessarily control anything but how you handle things after the fact will be what people most remember, you will never truly know the power of your reactions… see number 5 it’s kinda vibe-ing on the same frequency as this observation 
  • Be kind to yourself – yes I struggle with this one too but at least try to notice also even the small kindnesses you may pay to yourself
  • No need to be kind to everyone but avoid being an asshole (don’t be a cunt)

I ended on that note because it is the mantra that is cross-stitched and framed in our guest bathroom.  A very confronting and divisive word, but powerful.  Also ended on the 13th point cause it is a pretty great number in my opinion.  

Thanks for reading.  Have a lovely rest of the week.

XXOO

My Happiness

It is the last day of 2023 and it has me feeling all grateful, nostalgic and shit.

So. Gratitude.

I am married to a font of joy and childlike enthusiasm.  Damon can be heard singing every day.  He could be in the shower or pottering around.  He sings the wrong lyrics to existing tunes or makes up songs that are heavily punctuated with my name: “Dianna, we know she can-a do ANYTHING!  And she’s so pretty and sexy toooooo” is just one example of the many bangers that come wafting from the kitchen or shower as my beloved goes about his day

He’s also got a cute little interpretive dance improvisation situation he busts out while driving or if he’s got his music on while he flits like a wood nymph around the farm.  

He has off days and gets in a huff sometimes, but generally and on average I suspect he might be one of the happiest people walking the planet right now.  

I wish MOST people could be as content as my zesty, tidy, hard-working and super sweet silver fox.  Maybe I even wish everyone could be that happy.  The world would suck less if people were less angry and more inclined to sing and dance and feel free, complete, and blessed.  If humans were generally less power and money hungry and more willing to sing in the shower and stay too long in bed snuggling someone they adore, maybe we’d all be okay, and there wouldn’t be so many angry violent assholes raging around destroying things.

Tangent.  Sorry.  I try not to fixate on the wars and weary world we all collectively continue to damage and destroy… I save those conversations for IRL talks with trusted friends.  I know where I stand on the divisive conversations and situations unfolding around me, and I do not have the strength or inclination to fight those causes on a digital front.  But writing this is a reminder we are overdue a contribution to one or more of the trusted relief agencies we support.

Tangent over.  Back to my train of thought about Damon.

Nostalgia.

When we first started dating he was not the happiest or most childlike person you’d happen upon.  He was more like a kicked puppy than the free styling, shower-singing, dad-joking, happy farming fella his is now. And I was a complete self-loathing hot mess who was convinced that I was far too much for any one human to Love or handle.  I trusted too easily, took far too many stupid risks and had no sense of safety, boundaries or self-worth.  Shortly after we started seeing each other, he was left to sweep the shards of me up off the floor after my second nervous breakdown in as many years.  Thankless, terrifying work for an already exhausted human who had his heart and mind mangled by his own trials, changes and choices.

Nobody (including me) would have bet on us making it out of the gate as a couple. Yet, here we are five years later, building a narrative that is actually evolving into a meaningful little legacy of regeneration, biodiversity, community, kindness, empowerment and plenty of messy mistakes that we get to turn into learning opportunities.

It actually took the entire universe conspiring to keep me from lighting a match and burning our chances to the ground as I was accustomed to doing for so long.  I was not quite convinced of the concept of one true Love forever and Damon was undeniably terrified of what might happen if he made himself available to hot mess me.

So the world shut down and we were locked up on the farm for weeks and weeks.  And it was easy, and it was pleasant and it was wonderful.  There was no way for the outside world to enter our idyllic bubble, and Damon had to drive down to the end of the road and sit isolated in the car all day to continue his duties as CEO at the environmental trust he was managing.  He’d get home and any access to the outside world was again severed and we’d frolic (often naked as the day we were born) in our private little wilderness.  We’d thrash through gorse and pampas and plant perfect little veggie baby seeds and plan improvements on our piece of paradise.  Our only visitors/neighbours were the Kereru, Tui, Waxeyes, Ruru, Piwakawaka, Tuna, Kura and skinks.  

I had no idea how important those weeks offline and immersed in nature would set the tone for one of the most epic tours of self-discovery and complete re-shuffling of goals and priorities.

We are doing our best to parent 7 amazing kids.  We are trying to be kind, fair, clear, inspiring, and generous to our team and contractors.  We have THE most incredible friends and there’s never enough time to catch up with everyone we Love and admire.  Yet, when we do, it is always incredible.  

We still have to navigate an immense amount of stress and BS that is beyond our control.  We (mostly Damon) have some more grueling months or years ahead where we have to deal with people who we do not like or respect and who live in a world of priorities that we find dull, basic and actually quite unpleasant.  But we stand firm in the power we do have and we are consistent and clear on our own vision and strategy.  I am pretty sure the happiness and completely peripheral success we enjoy far FAR away from their world irks them.  Their measures of success is power-hungry patriarchy bullshit we don’t have time to be impressed by EVER.  I’ve never seen that formula work for anyone. The people who play in that sandpit are usually lonely, arrogant, sad and more often than not insufferable to genuine and authentic people. But they can go ahead and fill their expensive designer boots with their posturing and pathetic game playing.  We will be well shed of it all at some point and they’ll never cross our minds or paths again.  Whew.  That’ll be a good fucking day.

So any given day, while mean greedy people are busy doing mean greedy things somewhere that we definitely are not… Damon spends the morning wrapped in my arms for long lazy moments pontificating at length about how precious, smart, kind and beautiful I am to him.  I do not feel beautiful as I have packed on more than a few happy pounds, but with him I feel safe and complete and I do not for a second have any reason to doubt his devotion.  He’s an awe inspiring human inside and out and he’s too fucking good for me in any measurable sense I can think of, but here we are… and for that I am so consistently and overwhelmingly grateful.

I spent years making countless futile attempts to do anything to feel worthy and be Loved.  I was ALWAYS in places and spaces where I was not welcome or appreciated.  Many people were kind and encouraging, but too often they were opportunistic, mean, cruel, dishonest or just awful.  Don’t get me wrong, I was a big part of the problem back then too, as I managed to scare off or freak out good people who meant well by being an inconsistent, self-destructive, impossible fucking mess. But the rub on this and the message I am trying to share is that back then, the people who really ought to have been protecting and respecting me and were the closest to me, were actually putting in effort to disempower, humiliate and destroy me. Not. Great.

So yup, I was looking for purpose in the wrong places, faces and pursuits.  Nothing I did, regardless of the results, was ever good enough for the people closest to me back then, and it probably looked from the sidelines like things were kinda okay.  I’m especially grateful to the handful of people who watched and waited for me to get my shit together and can have a safe and rewarding relationship.  I am way better regulated since hooking up with and marrying my happiness.  

So.  What I wanted to say was:

If you are going through hell, keep going.  Find help and remove yourself from toxic people, places and patterns and start a life that is safe and gentle and may look absolutely NOTHING like the life you have known.  Give away the things that do not serve you and know that you are worthy of honesty, respect, joy, safety and Love.  We all are.  If you’re made to feel you are not, you are in the wrong place and trust me we are better off alone than surrounded by people that destroy our peace or actively derail us.

The person you choose to spend the most time with sets the whole tone for your life.  The things you enjoy doing and the people that feel safe and welcome in the culture that you create and nurture is incredibly influenced by the person you choose as your emergency contact/partner.  

If you are still reading, can I also suggest this year that you try to nurture the friendships and pursuits that are rewarding, good, fun, and on balance make you and those involved better for the effort.  HOWEVER… Do NOT expect or demand perfection from yourself or others.  That’s just not even a thing.  Do have firm and well communicated boundaries and stand firm and fair concerning them as you navigate.  But do not waste what precious time you have being gaslit, ignored, abused or underestimated.  Vibe high and your people will find you.

Reasons and seasons and lifetimes your angels and advocates will find you, and false friends and problematic or opportunistic people will test your boundaries at times too.  Don’t give up on people but make it clear what you will and will not tolerate and when your trust or boundaries are broken let go and get on with your beautiful magical life.  And do it without any hate or bitterness in your heart.  We are all fighting a hard battle.  And we are all at different stages of our journey and evolution.

So that’s my soppy message for the last day of 2023.  If you are going through hell, keep going.  If you are feeling safe and blessed and growing, keep going!  You deserve peace and joy and magic.  

I wish you good health, and more belly laughs than heaving sobs, but enough of every emotion to keep you humble, brave, and connected to the things you Love in the year ahead.