Lessons from a jumping star gazer

lessons from jumping
lessons from jumping

So, I jumped off the safety of the mother ship a year ago today.

I didn’t jump because I wasn’t happy. It’s just that I found myself spending so much time looking out the ship’s window. Wanting to be out in the starlit skies of dark space. Dreaming about what lay on the other side of my safe walls. It was a jump that something inside of me needed to take. That part of me ready to fly solo again and the steep learning curve that journey brings. The jump has unleashed a busy year of beginnings and endings. With my heart has been filled and my heart being broken. I’ve grown up because I had to. Because there was no-one else to do it. So far, I’ve quit myself twice. But through the starry darkness, I’ve somehow survived where half of us star gazers don’t. This year I’ve birthed a brand, built a home, and started wearing lycra. It’s been a busy year. And here’s a snippet of what you can learn each month when you go out there on your own.

January:
Jumping is physiologically hard. This is because our brains are hard-wired for walking. Or running. Or sometimes skipping. We – as a general rule – are very good at stepping forwards by putting one foot in front of the other. Moving takes careful motor planning and the application of known patterned behaviour. Jumping to the unknown is awkward. Jumping to the darkness means risk. Jumping implies that falling is a high probability. Along a solo journey, you will fall. Falling really hurts. Learn how to pick yourself up.

February:
Time is sacred. For each hour of time that you’re out there in your world, it takes at least 2 hours of your inside time. Hours at your computer. Hours manifesting your goals. Hours spent at officeworks getting the print just right. Be mindful of how much of your self you’re prepared to put out. If you don’t make the effort to put back in, pretty soon you’ll be empty. Despite what they say, prana has limits. Charity starts at home. Make boundaries.

March:
Not everyone one will understand you, even though you think they do. We could think we’re connecting deeply as we talk about dogs together. You’re talking about your dog – a jack russell pup. While I’m talking about my dog – a senior card holding kelpie. Even though we think we are talking about the same thing, those dogs are pretty bloody different. There’s a million different breeds out there. Assume nothing. Write stuff down.

April:
Dreaming ideas is the easy bit. Yes, it would be great to have every one you have across every social media platform while you run life-changing gigs every weekend. Manifesting reality from all the streams running through your head involves sometimes stepping back and living raw. It takes all the courage that you have and forces you to embrace your hidden vulnerabilities to share your deepest soul. Not everyone will be into what you’re in to. So make sure that you are.

May:
Co-create as much as you can. Know your tribe.

June:
Business is competition. Period. But try not to let it consume you – because it easily can. The strongest competition and the hardest challenge is always going to be the one you have with your self. Meditate every day. It’s not a crime to drink whisky.

July:
Overseas travel is over-rated. No matter your shape or your flexibility, sleeping bolt upright for over 24 hours is wrong. You are not a rock-star and middle-age jet lag sucks. Neck pillows don’t work. Use valium.

August:
Outsource with abandon. No, I’m not so bourgeois that I can’t clean up my own shit, it’s just that I’m sick of telling my loves to pick theirs up. I still clean my own windows. I’m a star gazer who likes to look out and up rather than the look down at the mess on the floor. My cleaner makes me feel taken care of. She tucks my doona into the sides of my bed and leaves rainbows in the bathroom. Let go of your guilt. Prioritise your time.

September:
Even though an exam may be open book – meaning with full access to google and wiki – sometimes you will still get a C. Don’t be a hard-arse and beat yourself up over a year of study culminating in being average. Remember, P’s get degrees. Celebrate your wins – you passed. There’s a million punters out there who would kill for average. Don’t swear while you teach. And don’t call gluteals bastards. Love your bum. Wear lycra.

October:
Those you love won’t be around for as long as you think. Nothing lasts forever. People will leave. Relationships will fail. Friends will move on. Not all the lumps are benign. Not everyone will hang with you for your lifetime. Honour your trauma. Consider it a gift.

November:
Other punters will imitate what you do. And it will frustrate the fuck out of you. Meaning you can do do one of two things. You can either throw a hissy-fit tantrum and tell anyone who bothers to care. Or you can continue to evolve and create your self anew. Look on imitation as a compliment, you’re obviously doing something right. Embrace the challenge to continually innovate your awesomeness. Indulge in your daydreams. Join twitter.

December:
Call your partner your lover. It will remind you to have sex with him occasionally. Partners dig being played with.

And finally, think. Do backbends. Do forward bends. Do twists. Go upside down. Be kind.

Do yoga.

It has been a rollercoaster for me personally and professionally this year. My deepest heartfelt gratitude to those of you have come along with me for the ride. I am so grateful to those of you that have jumped into the abyss of darkness and explored unknown space alongside me. I’m so grateful to those of you that have gifted me the opportunity to do what it is that I love to do. You allow me to continue to be a deep feeler, a complete over-sharer and a breaker of all the rules. You let me be someone who celebrates love, plays by her heart and honours you all as my tribe. You let me be someone who tries to create a space where we can contemplate the full complexity of ourselves and connect to the raw openness of another. The Barwon Heads Yoga room was designed to celebrate life’s wins and share life’s losses. It’s a space dedicated to feeling fully into the difference of what is real and what is apparent. It’s where we play with being malleable. Where we bend so we don’t break. It’s where we can give ourselves permission to be available completely for life’s intimacy. Where we don’t need to rely on others to be reminded of our awesomeness. Where we remember we are not defined by the number of our Facebook feed’s likes.

It’s a space where we simply are asked to make friends with ourselves.

Thank you 2016. It’s been a curly, crazy ride. Thanks to you punters for reading and for sharing. For inspiring and for teaching. And for being such a powerful part of this journey we share.

Merry festivities.
Hug your loves hard.

x

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