The unflickering flame and an unexpected benefactor

There was a lot happening in 2011, some wonderful (the publishing contract of course), some not so good (family ill health) and plenty in between. Throughout it all I kept a staple diet of yoga. I've been practising, on and off,  for about 38 years, but for the past ten or so years have been more committed. Yoga sneaks up on you. You might begin just desiring more flexibly, to learn how to relax, but somehow it becomes so much more.

(I wonder, if you have read some of my previous blogs, if you think of me as being a bit 'floaty', a bit 'hippy'. Well, yes there is an element of that, but hopefully it's balanced by a healthy dose of pragmatism; I am a science teacher after all! I raise this now because what follows might be just 'too out there' for your taste, but I hope you will read on. (For others, of course, my experience will be familiar to you.)

A good yoga teacher is a blessing, and I have been blessed all my yoga life. A good yoga teacher guides you carefully and purposefully through posture, breathing, meditation and relaxation, and links them together holistically. A great teacher directs you, subtly and respectfully, to your own heart. I have a great yoga teacher. It has been during my practice that the most profound shifts in my self have occurred. In the silence of my mind I have 'seen' Shiva dance lit by glow of a flickering fire. I've been propelled through steep, dark valleys and swept towards blissful light. I'm not a Hindu, nor a Buddhist, Taoist, Muslim, Jew, Pagan, or much of a Christian for that matter, but I respect the wisdom found in each and take to heart core values, including the humanist principles of atheism. 

In my yoga practice, particularly during 2011, I found my way to the still, quiet place within my heart, where an unflickering flame burns. Here, I located what I have come to refer to as the Patient Presence, the Self, with whom I inwardly converse. As the name suggests it has been waiting for me to find my Self. In those quiet moments of relaxation and meditation, it acknowledges me with a nod of 'welcome back', knowing full well that I will veer away again. During the course of 2011, after the competition win, in the midst of my 25th year of employment, while some aspects of my family life were straining under stress, that central place within my heart became a sanctuary. All those self-help books drove home the point, "Listen to your heart'. I asked it, What am I to do with my life? There was no answer. It's a quiet place, that place within, but when I'm there I feel... calm, centred and at peace. 

So, I decided that I would trust that feeling and live out of my heart. I would 'jump ship' ands see what would manifest. At the time of my life when I should be squirrelling money away for real retirement I was going to spend it. I'd always dreamed of a benefactor who would believe in me, support my dream to be a writer. I would be my own benefactor. What better way to show confidence in myself. Was I up to it? 

So... where was I?

If you remember from previous blogs, "Whispers" won the national competition and Rupert and Neti were on their way in the world. Recall, too, that I was experiencing a real disconnection from the fuss that followed caused by reasons I've mentioned earlier, but also from a self-enforced humility, I suspect for fear of appearing to be too 'cocky', 'up myself' or any other of the Australian colloquialisms that dictate that personal achievement is not to be celebrated. Such a shame in such a talented country, but I'm not immune. Remember, as well, that the competition win flamed the glowing splint of my inner restlessness. I wanted to 'jump ship' from my happy employment of 25 years, but I was scared. Scared of what you might ask. Scared of not being able to reinvent myself, scared of sacrificing relative financial stability gained after the struggle of my early years (see earlier blog) and scared that I just didn't' have the talent, energy, or ability to do it. Making a decision for my own sake doesn't come easily as I've mentioned before. Coinciding with the competition win were other factors that gave the process of leaving work more momentum. Family concerns were demanding that I direct more attention to them and I was finding it more and more difficult to manage full-time work, study and my need to write and 'follow my heart'. (Yes, I know it's a cliche). So what was my heart saying? I'll tell you about it in the next blog. 

Do what you love...

The desire to change was a constant in my life and, as you know, I daydreamed about the possibilities. However, in my case at least, it took the merging of various factors to lead me to act. There is no doubt that the competition win was an incentive to make a move. Believe me, I never counted on it making enough money to retire on, but the win gave me confidence, a 'rehearsal' for success (in my terms). I've admitted previously, and with some embarrassment, that I sometimes read self-help books. One of my favourites, by Marsha Senetar is called "Do what you love; the money will follow". Although I read it years ago, one story in particular stayed with me. A potter talked about leaving his profession as a teacher and he was commenting on how he knew when to make the move. He said that as he began to sell a few pieces of his work he felt that the 'Universe' was sending a positive message back to him and this gave him the confidence to invest more of his time into his pottery. Now that might sound a bit 'out there', but in Senetar acknowledges that not everyone has the talent or the wherewithal to succeed. You have to recognise your limitations too, and maybe change course, but when you do get positive feedback it suggests you have something of significance to offer. I felt that I was getting some of that feedback, so maybe I too, could make a move. 

A word on those self-help books. If you read them you can glean a lot of good advice; however, you (or at least I) can become more confused by the various methods to achieve your dreams, and then there's the subsequent feeling of inadequacy when you don't quite measure up. I was amused recently to see a new release in my favourite bookshop that proposed that striving for happiness could very well make us even more unhappy. I think I understand that. Too much pressure to be happy. Too much pressure to do it the 'right' way (as if there aren't enough rules around at the moment for doing everything the right way. Try 'parenting' again.). Anyway, the point of this is, that I have abandoned all (at least most) of the methods and procedures to attaining my dreams. I'm sick of the self-help books, and I'm sick of saying that one day I'll get around to being all those things I'm supposed to be. I'm running this show my way - win or fail.

The True Plan

Had a good talk with a really nice person today. In course of our conversation, I told him about my decision to leave work and 'free-fall' as I discovered my Right Livelihood. 'Yes', he said, 'but such decisions need a plan'. 'Yes, that's right', I said, too embarrassed to admit that I had no such thing in place. I mulled over it for a moment. 'You know,' I said, 'in fact I don't have a plan, and that's what this is about.' I think I've been waylaid by too consciously constructing my life; it's got in the way of the true plan, lying waiting in my subconscious, or in my heart. Let's see.