Posted in Writing



“And so, it begins-the transformation of my once broken soul, into a strong, confident, happy, and balanced person…” -Avesha

These idealistic words are the title of an article I recently read in The Elephant Journal. Have you ever felt so helpless in your situation that you have sought help from someone else’s words? You know, you do the ghastly thing and google how to fix yourself? I do this with a frequency more regular than I’d like to admit-on track and balanced for a period of time and then in spectacular fashion I manage to throw myself off balance again-it’s quite a talent.

I have often wondered whether this is because I’ve never fully developed the tools I need to sustain balance in my life, or whether it is just the process-the natural ebbs and flows we have no control over.

Very recently I came to a shock realisation (after struggling mentally for the umpteenth time with my perceived ebbs) that perhaps I had more control over my outcomes than I thought. My entire life I have lived by the philosophies ‘what will be, will be’…and ‘everything happens for a reason’-but I am pondering the possibility for the first time that maybe, with some work, I can create outcomes that are more positive, and more in line with what makes me feel happy and even inspired.

I have never actively practised this philosophy-but nothing changes if nothing changes…right?

Fate will not intervene and save us when self sabotage is our plan.

Now, one thing I have learned over the years is that nobody ever intentionally (pathological causes aside) sabotages their outcomes in life. Rather, we do it unknowingly because of a failure to recognise a disruption in our balance.

Why? Because we are well equipped to deal with the subtle changes. We have many built in reserves as humans and thus continue to put pressure on our balance for two reasons:

  1. Because we believe we can cope, and
  2. We are too distracted by our first world timetables and high demands on our time to notice

What happens next?

We regress a little more and begin to implement unhealthy behaviours in order to make ourselves feel better- ignoring our feelings, denying we are not happy, cutting back on the activities that resonate with us to please others, working longer hours to earn more money, just to name a few.

What happens next?

We use these bad behaviours as a crutch which seems to help for a period of time, until it doesn’t, and our lives start to fall apart in whatever form the Gods choose to use- addiction, resentment, anger, guilt, anxiety and depression, substance abuse, relationship challenges.

But what if we could restore the balance to our lives before the destruction set in?

What if we could break the cycle of self sabotage and actually ensure positive outcomes?

What if we simply made the decision to be happy for a day despite what was going on in our heads and what was happening around us?

It’s food for thought.

On Sharing…What do you post?

Writing is all for me.

I find no benefit in sharing with those who have a different heart; …and those who read and misinterpret the origin of my prose.
There are those who will judge my position through no fault of their own, and no evil intent- a perfectly natural and acceptable thing to do. That is how the human mind works now isn’t it? We judge everything through our own eyes- the only way we can. Despite this, I focus on the purpose of my writing.
I write in an attempt to discover the truth in me.
I write so I can sit with myself in solace.
I write in an attempt to make sense of the stories in my head.
So I can travel toward acceptance.
So write for yourself, post for yourself-someone, if only one, will hear you and those who are on a different track may choose to adore you regardless.
“This is all a load of bull” -you say, but it’s only my voice; and if you like it, you may listen, and if you don’t- you won’t, and if you’re of the same heart, you’ll get it.
Sharing personal thoughts is a choice some make and others shudder at. That’s ok. It’s fine to do whatever it is you’re comfortable with.
Now, I get this a lot; “Nicole, are you going to jump off a cliff?”-and I smile.
My answer to that?
“Oh no, I much prefer to take in the beautiful view and run around it”
Posted in Life, Poem, Writing

Far Away

When it is far away

I am trapped inside an empty space

Where life demands I function

And pretend all is connected

And for a million days and a million dark nights

I wait

With sealed lips and a heart half full

Until it returns



Posted in blogging, Daily muse, Inspiration, mindfullness, Writing


Having a broken arm has given me a new perspective.

It’s like anything that is forced upon us-we have no choice but to adapt. When catapulted head first into a rotten situation for which we had no warning, we learn. We learn how to cope when we find ourselves in unexplored territory. We learn about the words insecure and vulnerable and fearful and lost.

However in my reflection over the past weeks, I believe the lesson we learn that is of most value to the human spirit, is the incredible ability of ‘us’ to find strength. It comes. It may take a while, but it comes. Sure, we may never be the same person again, but we’re not supposed to be. We are destined to experience life in its fullest form and that involves forced change.

Now, a broken arm is by no stretch of the imagination a life changing experience. For me however,  it has forced me to consider the other side of the coin. Forced me to understand I am more than a bunch of arms and legs. Forced me to realise falling into complacency is a natural tendency, but it is completely temporary. Life will never remain the same for us, it simply can’t, but it is absolutely inevitable strength will find us, and we will grow through change, and flourish as we revel in the realisation that there is so much more to ‘us’ than we ever imagined.

I had my cast taken off yesterday. This was a revelation. I never contemplated  it could be worse than loafing around with an extra accessory for 5 weeks unable to use my dominant arm, drive, work, or exercise as I used to-It was. I now have no cast, but staring me in the face is an arm that looks roughly like it used to, with limited function. Why won’t it move? Why can’t I touch my face? Why does it feel so stiff it reminds me of rigor mortis and lying in a coffin?  It is not the same arm as before-just like that, in one awkward, unfortunate, accidental moment.

It is temporary, and this conversation is purely a euphemism for moments more life impacting, but it’s a lesson all the same. I am finding a new me. I am understanding that life is hard sometimes, and we are dished out stuff we didn’t ask for that perhaps we’d quite happily hand back, and it is full of resentment, and guilt and anger and questions and we are physically fragile, but oh, the human spirit is strong.

-And it becomes all the more powerful when we let go of the fight and accept that the only way around, is through.


Posted in Writing

On the wings of a Dragonfly

As I am forced to travel by foot, I notice the ducks are still swimming. They kick around in blissful oblivion despite the grumpy man down the road and the fact that I couldn’t cut the carrots this afternoon.

The world does not end when things change.

The little rock pathway lined with thriving greenery-a stones throw from my front door-is a magical road that takes me to the fountain. A peaceful space that ignores my presence entirely, and glistens and sparkles and dances and prances on its merry little way irrespective of the stories that exist in the air that it breathes.

I want to be that dragonfly. She simply floats on pockets of breeze and lands wherever she feels like it. She moves on and moves on and moves on. My presence is no business of hers yet my extreme fascination with her behaviour in contrast is a gift.

(Incubate- Incubating a peaceful mind via a deeper understanding)




Posted in Writing

Watching them walk away

WATCHING THEM WALK AWAY-A story for all the mums and dads

I remember as a young girl, the beginning of a new school year was like Christmas. Living in a rural area meant I didn’t see a lot of my friends over the school holidays and the thought of catching up with everyone was a source of positive energy, a feeling of rejuvenation.

The journey to school just prior to the commencement of first term was a memory I’ll never forget. New books, new pencil case, new uniforms, and a chance to sneak a peak of anyone I knew. Who were the new teachers and what were they going to be like? Were there any new kids in my class? Where was my best friend hiding? Had my feet grown?

When I returned home I’d busily arrange my books, writing my name neatly everywhere I could. I’d set up my Student Diary with all of my personal information writing a new year level inside the front cover, and I’d scribble a few of my best friends names and addresses exactly where they were supposed to go in the allocated addresses section. I’d then cover my text books with clear contact, trying desperately not to make bubbles, and place them all together in a nice even line inside my cupboard in my bedroom. I was so ready.

Looking back, it was truly great. It is an excitement that perhaps I haven’t been able to match as an adult. The complexities of life stifling my ability to live in awe and wonder-as a child does.

And as I observe my own boys heading off to commence a new schooling year, I am reminded of this feeling once again, and I ponder-

I ponder the magic of witnessing their innocent souls bursting to participate in all things new and exciting-as I did.

And my mind drifts… and I ponder how they will handle the rejection.

I ponder how they will deal with failure.

I ponder whether I am doing a good enough job to ensure they prosper.

I ponder whether they will still love me in 10 years and whether they will work hard enough to realise their potential.

I hope an amazing career spontaneously chooses them and not the other way around.

I hope they draw on sound judgement in times of trouble.

I dig into the deepest depths of me with my hand on the steering wheel still watching them skedaddle away, and pray they are happy.

And I find myself concerned- because I know. I know what it’s like to pass from innocence and fun to aware and responsible.

But then it suddenly occurs to me that I am simply balancing on the opposite side of my circle-My circle of life. The wheel has turned, and I am staring back at myself- and not my sons.

They are kind of smiling, they are barely excited, and they couldn’t give two hoots about their books, their uniforms or their lack of haircuts. They’re not fussed about the English teacher, they are wondering why they couldn’t have six months a year off, and not a single item of food will be consumed in their lunch box. The diary is a diary in name only and they’ve been playing on-line computer games with their friends for the entire duration of the holiday. They are messy, disorganised and they prefer grunt to English- But they are as happy that way as pigs in mud.

The miracle and truth that I so often forget, is that they are living in their own circle-and not mine.

Sure, we can worry about anything and everything that may happen to them, but their experiences will always be unique.

They will go their own way, they will do what they do and they will be who they are regardless of their mother sitting in the car pondering their existence and happiness. Regardless of our desire to steer them toward or away from our own experiences. Regardless of our warnings, our teachings, our back lashings or our perceived failures as parents.

So what do we do?

We keep doing what we are doing because it’s ok;

…and we watch them walk away with their school bags on, and ponder their growth and their happiness and their futures, and we sit back and have a cup of tea with a smile, when one day, they find themselves balancing on the other side of their circle of life, and they ponder how they got there.