The higher-self is a term associated with a variety of belief systems, but its basic premise describes an eternal, conscious and intelligent being which represents our most authentic state.
The higher-self embodies our spirit which is expressed through our human vessels — the part of ourselves that exists beyond the conditioning learned throughout our life experiences. Conditions such as fear and ego fixations, limiting beliefs, negative thinking patterns and old wounds.
Our higher-selves are never lost to us — your soul or spirit is ever-present and flows with unhindered and effortless love from the higher-realms.
When we refer to the higher-creative mind, we are speaking in terms of the creative resources available to us from that sacred space within. The incredibly creative part of you that remains hidden and unexplored, and brimming with story concepts and fascinating characters you have yet to meet.
But sometimes, we can lose touch with this part of ourselves. Life happens and we easily become weighed down with everyday stresses and responsibilities which can lead to feelings of disconnection. With the Corona virus currently ripping through the world, this is apparent more than ever right now.
We can tell when we are disconnected to our higher-selves because this state breeds lower vibrational feelings such as anxiety and depression, as well as other negative ways of thinking about ourselves and the world.
This is when problems are likely to arise with your creative output.
We have all been there. Some days, it can feel as if your creative well has dried up — that there are no more interesting words and stories left in you to tell.
It’s normal to experience creative burn-out from time to time. I do. I know how it feels when creativity seems out of reach. When you believe there is nothing left inside of you to creative and bring to the world; at least, nothing worthwhile. We want to produce our best work, and yet, it’s impossible to always be on top of our game.
Sometimes, a small shift in our perspective is all it takes to kick-start the creative juices again, and taking the time to replenish our creative resources is important if we are to thrive as prolific artists and writers.
In fact, recharging the creative batteries is a vital component in the life of a creative. We need to refill our spirits with renewed energy, and we need to allow ourselves time to unwind in order to create a fresh space for revived and invigorated visions and the formation of new ideas.
Often, it is the simple activities that are most helpful in clearing our creative blocks and managing stress levels. The core notion lies in the necessity to separate yourself and your mind from your work and creative project for a block of time.
We may be facing uncertain times and even isolation, but that doesn’t mean we have to be totally limited in finding ways to refresh our creative palettes. Here are a few things you can do to help pull you out of a creative rut (current circumstances permitting):
· Take a walk outside — preferably someplace that encourages positive feelings. Sunshine, trees and air will do wonders to replenish your imagination, and besides, it just feels good to be out and away from the computer sometimes.
· Go veg out at the beach — dig in your toes and imprint your mark into the sand while soaking up the purifying salt air for a few hours (my favorite!).
· Spend time with your children/dog or cat. Laughter uplifts the spirit and children have a knack of bringing out your inner-child. Animal therapy is a proven mood-booster.
· Coffee with a treasured friend — great conversation and connecting with someone special can cure the most contrite of hearts.
· Catch a flick or binge a series on Netflix — movies and TV are modern-day oral storytelling. Inspiration right there.
· Cook up a storm — this can be an extremely pleasant activity in switching up your focus. When we take away the “chore” aspect of cooking and do it for the pleasure, cooking transcends into something utterly delightful.
· Take a drive to destination inspiring — the world is brimming with naturally rustic beauty. Whether it be inhaling the country air over rolling green pastures, breathtaking views from mountain peaks, or dreaming on the wings of an eagle over rugged ocean cliffs, there is sure to be a slice of the magic near you.
The above suggestions are great ways to help improve your mindset when you’re feeling flat on the creative front. It is likely you’re already practicing similar activities. I think we all know when we need to just close down for a while and think about anything other than our work-in-progress or all tasks that are piling up on our desks.
This is true for our higher-creative minds, too. The more time spent intentionally cultivating that inner-resource, the greater your access will be to those extraordinary invisible realms.
We do this through connecting to the higher-self.
Deliberately choosing to spend time on strengthening your relationship with your inner-spirit is an act that will help nurture the bonds with your creativity.
It’s not hocus-pocus. It’s not even “woo-woo”. Those labels are formed by those who don’t get it. Think of it like this; there is so much more to our world and existence than what we are able to acknowledge and perceive. Often, it is fear driving the ridicule behind those who negate alternative thinking and practices with their labels.
Being willing to open your mind to different ideas and ways of being will add richness to your life. It’s like traveling — the experiences will broaden your perspective and increase the good stuff like empathy, love and kindness.
Connecting to your higher-creative mind will help you achieve:
· A holistic sense of well-being
· Forms of awareness
· Trust in yourself
· Trust in the creative process
· Honor the incubation period — allowing the ideas and thoughts time to stew
· Build on your intuition
· Value vulnerability
· Push past fear
· Free expression
· Keep the creative channels flowing.
When it comes to the higher-creative mind, there are some simple methods we can practice to help get you there and keep you there during your creative output sessions.
Catherine Evans and I are going to discuss all of this and more during our Creative Writing Energy presentation in next month’s WriteHive 2020 convention, where we hope to help you pave a way to connect with and honor your higher-creative mind.
WriteHive 2020 is a free online writing convention featuring everyone from huge names in the literary industry to brand-new writers, and will be live across the world from April 18th — 19th.
Indifference felt like cold armor. Hunger gripped me. Exhausting. My mind contorted. I squeezed my eyes shut and hung my head. Strangled sobs tormented me. Each cry stoked the insatiable need to feed on their blood. My veins palpitated beneath my skin. I shivered and groaned as I shifted my back against the sandstone wall. My ass was paralyzed.
Avila’s body curled on the ground. Her head was heavy in my lap and she trembled in a fitful slumber. Candlelight offended my senses. Sun’s voice rasped over my pulse.
“Is this how it ends for us – starving in a filthy airless cell mocked by our food?” She gave a rueful laugh.
I lifted my chin to look at her beside me. Her skin was like chalky mesh sunk against cheekbones. Her hair fell in dull yellow clumps, almost concealing the stony eyes peering back at me. She licked chafed lips and flicked her chin toward the opposite cell. It was crammed with humans. There must have been about fifty of them.
“I can’t tell which side was better.”
I squinted toward the other cell. My joints ached; especially my knuckles as I clenched and unclenched them. The scent of fear and sweat carried along the shadowy shaft separating the cells. It hurt to look at them. Their offerings were too much to bear.
My gaze lingered on a woman who stood pressing her forehead against the rusty steel bars. Grimy fingers clutched the metal posts; burnt-red hair like straw. Brown eyes ebbed as she blinked at me. My ears pricked with the sound of her thumping heart. My mouth watered. I tore my eyes away from her and swallowed hard.
“We’re all living the nightmare no matter which side we’re on.”
Sun grazed a hand across my arm. Her skin was like ice.
“I’m on your side, that’s all that counts.”
Emptiness gripped me when I looked at her. Time had lost meaning. How long had we been here? Weeks? Months? Endless time snatched in the shadows and feeding on sewer rats. We were prisoners now; thrown in the putrid cells beneath the city with the humans they hunted and collected. It was punishment for betraying Marius. I deserved it, but Avila and Sun didn’t.
My eyes locked onto hers.
“I’m … sorry.”
I’m so sorry.
She shook her head.
“Don’t be.” She leaned in closer as the sound of stomping boots drifted along the tunnels. “Remember what you told me; don’t let them take your soul, Jett.”
She said nothing but her darkening stare conveyed her thoughts. The truth was my soul was sucked into a black abyss the day Scarla was murdered. It was the same day I’d made the choice to die. But even the apathy accompanying my human death couldn’t erase the agony she left behind. Everything was meaningless without her.
Death could claim me again.
I looked away from Sun as Avila stirred. She sat up, stretching over sickly pale features and pitted eyes. Dark hair brushed at her waist as she cocked her head.
“The guards are coming.” Her voice was hoarse.
Her eyes widened at me. Fangs glinted as she winced before she made the move to stand up. Her legs buckled slightly when she extended an arm toward me.
She was the only reason I had to keep going. I reached for her hand and hauled myself up, steadying myself against the wall. I felt like cardboard. Weakness crept through me, but I ignored it as a low rumble began to rise among the human captives across the way.
High pitched shrills and disembodied wails erupted as they began clawing at one another in an effort to distance themselves from the cell entrance. Terror was an intoxicating emotion. Excitement rimmed.
“The vampire guards are coming!”
“God, help us … Please, no!”
Limbs entangled. A few of them fell beneath the panicking mob. The blunt sound of crushing bones was a distinct melody in my ear. My gaze found the woman who still clutched the cell bars. Ragged lips mumbled breathless secrets. Her eyes were closed. She appeared in another world.
Sun stood beside me. We exchanged a look before I pushed off the wall and walked toward the cell bars. I stopped across from the woman and watched her, tuning out to the chaotic fever and the laughter that echoed along the tunnel walls as the guards drew closer.
She shifted her weight from side to side and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. Her shoes were made of worn brown leather and fringed a pair of torn denim jeans. She flung her head back. Grime appeared like patchwork over the skin of her throat. Her words became frantic. Louder.
“Lygarou … Lygarou … the prophecy is born … the city will burn to ashes.”
Avila and Sun sidled up either side of me. Screams escalated. Mayhem like wild alley cats. My heart pounded. My fangs ached for blood. Four guards rounded the bending shaft and came into view. Avila stiffened.
I shrugged. My gut curdled as I looked back at her. She froze suddenly. Shadows flickered across her face like an apparition as she steadied her gaze on me. Lips spoke cryptic messages.
“I’ve seen the birth of a Lystalker – the half-breed. She’s arrived to ignite the Legends of Blood.”
“Legends of Blood?”
I frowned and gripped the steel bars. The guards halted between the cells. They were clad in the usual black leather attire customary to the kindred. Chunky boots adorned their feet and twisted on the damp ground. They had their backs to me.
The woman’s eyes darted toward the guards. They sniggered and cackled, nudging one another as they surveyed the humans. The prisoners quietened, albeit for a man who lay curled and groaning on the floor. Blood oozed from his skull and spilled over his fingers as he clutched the wound.
Thirst stabbed my stomach like a serrated knife.
I looked back at the woman as one of the guards hissed and held up a set of keys, shaking them. He laughed even louder when some of the people sobbed, shrinking further into the shadows. Just as the cell gate creaked open, the woman took a quick breath before she mouthed two words at me: “Blood Legends.”
A chill went through me. Mysterious predictions and farfetched superstitions haunted me. They were the same words that had passed from the ginger-beard hawker before I tore his head from his neck. Words that foretold a time of reckoning that would bring the kindreds undone. Our greatest existential threat.
I had to know more.
Two of the guards converged on the human prisoners. The crowd instantly became restless. A few women screeched as the guards hunched over them, hissing before ensnaring sharp talons around their arms and dragging them closer.
I looked away. My attention was captured by the guards that had turned our way and were now opening our cell door. All thoughts of Blood Legends and folklore evaporated as eyes the color of bright lemons pierced into me.
Conceit. I could smell it. He leaned against the cell bars and regarded us with a dark grin. His mouth was a shock of scarlet, parting to reveal stained fangs. His crony had a neck like a bull. He grunted and pushed into the cell behind lemon-eyes, stopping with a sneer. An inky stare settled on Sun.
“It appears as if fortune has bestowed upon you this day.” Lemon-eyes ran bony fingers through his hair, giving his head a toss for good measure.
“How so?” Avila gripped her hips and glared.
His grin widened. Screams shattered my ears. I looked back at the other cell to see the guards hauling three prisoners from the chamber. Two women; one man. The redheaded woman was among them. Lemon-eyes’ voice grated into my bones.
“The Masters have decided it is time for your citation. You are to have an audience with Master Zaros.”
Zaros? The name was unfamiliar. My thoughts scattered as the three humans were shoved into our cell. They stumbled and immediately cowered together as the guards returned to the other cell. Hunger overwhelmed me as I eyed the fresh blood now within arm’s reach.
“Yes … you are permitted to feed before your attendance.” Lemon-eyes motioned toward the man and two women who began to sob uncontrollably. Not the redhead though. She stood trembling but her eyes daggered into mine when I looked at her.
Lygarou. They’re coming; the prophecy holds true. I can show you.
The words weren’t spoken yet I heard them clearly. I turned to see the guards dragging the wounded humans from the other chamber. Some of them were dead. Agonizing wails reverberated all around.
Lemon-eyes spoke again.
“Well; what are you waiting for?” he laughed. “You must be famished. Your feast awaits you.”
Sun and Avila didn’t hesitate. Desperation was like a vapor as they moved forward. The guards yanked the injured who were still alive over the cell threshold, dumping them near my feet. My eyes darted back to the woman. Her gaze widened. My pulse screamed as I stepped forward.
All eyes turned on me. I squared my chin and gestured toward the woman.
“That one is of use to the Masters. Let her live.”
“Why?” Lemon-eyes glared. Talons twirled the ends of his hair.
“Because she’s a witch with valuable knowledge.”
The guards laughed but Lemon-eyes didn’t. He slinked closer to me. Eyes like deadly firestones burned into mine.
“What knowledge does the witch possess?”
“She knows about the Blood Legend prophecy.”
His features twisted and paled beneath the dim light.
“Very well. We shall inform the Masters.” He flicked a wrist toward his cronies. “Return her and fetch another!”
An odd sense of relief flooded through me. My gaze fell to the groaning man at my feet. I bent to my knees and gripped his head roughly. My pulse quickened. Anticipation had never been so sweet. My fangs sunk into human flesh and reprieve was mine. I fed like a demon.
Hunger did have a soul. It was created from human flesh and blood, and death was its heart.
A mysterious prophecy has come to pass with the arrival of a newborn baby.
The survival of the vampire clan is now threatened with the rebirth of a long-buried species. The Lygarou have reawakened with an unquenchable thirst for blood.
The next full moon is looming and Jett has no choice but to face the reckoning. He must find and kill the wolf-mother and her baby before his sire destroys the only person remaining in his life worth living for.
But when Jett unearths the truth about the Lygarou bloodlines, he is forced to face a choice that will forever altar the future and question his loyalty toward the clan.
Can Jett risk all that matters to him on a future paved with uncertainty? Or will his loyalty to the clan prevail?
Rebirth is an urban fantasy set in a post-apocalyptic world from bestselling author Kim Petersen, the second book in the Blood Legends: Ground Zero series.
Churning out words, outlining and wrapping your brain around plot twists, story themes and arcs can often be mentally exhausting, and then we have to make sure our characters have depth enough to resonate with our readers.
“I know the feelings but I don’t know how to express them in words.”
That’s what my new client said during a recent meeting. She had reached out for assistance after reading some of my work. She has an important story to tell.
After an extraordinary experience, her quest to bring her unique story into the world fell short when it came to expressing high-level concepts and deep emotion through the written word.
It is true that I write about love, relationships and soul connections in addition to my fiction work. I post these articles regularly on Medium and my blog. When the year is out, the articles are then culminated into a book - a keepsake documenting both my nonfiction writing pieces along with my own personal journey.
Life lessons and personal growth.
Some people baulk at the idea of sharing their personal experiences publicly. There was probably a time when I might’ve reacted the same way. It’s different now. I feel different now. I’m not the same person I was when I first began writing.
I realized that by sharing our experiences and perspectives, and then expressing the lessons we’ve learned from those fragments in our lives is one of the most powerful ways we can impact the world and help one another.
Obviously, not all of us are writers. There are many other ways to make a positive difference in the world. Humanitarians and those in service occupations seek to promote human welfare. The magical paint strokes of gifted artists have the capacity to uplifts spirits; thereby raising vibrations through the loving energy invested in the creation.
The same is true for words.
Yehuda Berg said:
“Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble.”
As a word smith, and whether you write nonfiction, fiction or both, it is vital to have a firm understanding of the power literally at your fingertips.
Not every writer has the desire to burrow into their deepest selves to divvy up those experience-gems publicly. I can understand that. There is a certain amount of vulnerability and courage required when you begin the deep, meaningful work - and make no mistake, releasing messages into the world at an intimate level takes a brave heart (and maybe a firm set of balls).
Either that, or those of us who journey through the murky territory are just plain crazy.
The good news is that we don’t necessarily have to roll up our sleeves and get gritty (and maybe a bit soppy) by revealing our inner-most selves in order to make real connections and benefit the human experience through our words.
The fact that you write is gift enough. Throw in some passion, a generous side of imagination and the beautiful resources existing within the fabric of your past experiences, and you are a potential change-maker.
You just felt the little tingles ignite at the base of your spine, right?
At least, I hope you did.
Those zingy feelings are more than just confirmation that a draft is blowing from the window you left open in the other room - they are a part of your inbuilt intuitive system and appear as way of confirmation when the truth rings true.
Learn to trust your tingles.
Grab your cape and give yourself a pat on the back, too. You, dear writer, are a gift to the world and your words have power. Used with intent, love and courage our words become a force to be reckoned with. We have the capacity to influence, create waves and stir the pot to bring meaning to the lives of those who read our work - particularly when created with the breadth of our hearts.
We can achieve this through delving deep within; stripping the layers to extract the nuggets from past and present relationships; looking back on memorable experiences and reflecting on our most intimate feelings to examine the way we relate, perceive life and love others.
After all, love is the ultimate source of emotional resonation. It is the most profound emotion we will ever experience.
Whether romantic or platonic, whirlwind and complicated or long term and lifelong, it is love that has the power to nourish meaningful relationships, crush our hearts and teach us important lessons.
“When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods,
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.”
– William Shakespeare - From Love’s Labour’s Lost.
Is it no wonder that the greatest writers in history explored love in all its forms through their literature?
There was only one Shakespeare. There is only one you.
Love in literature is boundless because it defies barriers by appearing across all genres and age groups, as well as periods in history. The presence of love in our stories has the ability to bring acutely heartfelt and memorable moments to the page, regardless of the outcome.
We all know about love and relationships to some degree. Even hate is love turned upside down. Honestly, we learn so much and gather bucket loads of personal data through the relationships we form; and we can use these insights when developing our characters to bring authenticity into their worlds and connect with readers.
To help get you into reflection mode, let’s take a deeper look into what Greek philosopher, Aristotle had to say about relationships. He described three kinds of relationships, with only one of which is built to bring true happiness.
First: The Relationships of Pleasure.
These are the romantic interludes fueled by passionate sex, a possible side of drugs and a generous helping of ego. Insert a playlist that looks like Metallica’s Master of Puppets and Bulletboys Smooth up in Ya, and you get the drift. These affairs are more about body and less about soul and connecting - never a great recipe for lasting happiness.
Second: The Relationships of Utility.
These types of relationships may be grounded in materialism or hopes of gathering status of some sort. They can also include relationships that involve a need for each other for the “necessities of life” and raising children. Aristotle describes the friendship of utility as shallow, easily dissolved, and for the old.
Keep in mind that even though he may have been coined “the father of philosophy” he was just one Greek guy who liked to explore high-level concepts … with a very thick beard.
Third: The Relationship of Shared Virtue.
Like a classic Rod Stewart song, Aristotle firmly advised hauling up your sails over stormy waters in search of what he called Relationships of Shared Virtue. This is where you arrive on the shores to find a partner who truly gets you in soul - your core self.
It’s that real-connection love who will ignite change, challenge and inspire you to grow into your highest potential.
Jack Nicholson’s character in As Good as It Gets said it best when he said: “You make me want to be a better man.”
Of course, the above relationship examples described by Aristotle are brief summaries of the complex bonds and emotions that we experience through those who touch our lives. Yet, taking a look at what some of the world’s greatest philosophers had to say about the human condition can act as a springboard to unlocking parts of our past when creating full-bodied and dynamic characters - ones that imprint a lasting memory on our readers.
Deep reflection is a muscle you can strengthen to bring the essence of your story to a place where the power of your words has the potential to positively influence and improve the lives of your readers. Even if only an inch at a time.
Keep it real.
It’s worth investing the time to reflect on your past and present loves to give your characters depth and relatable complexities. Aim for the Kindle highlights.
Just like love, your words can change lives forever.
We are over-complicators existing beneath self-created blinders. The world keeps turning. Time slips by as we leave our prints upon the days and nights of yesterday.
We sift and sort as we move through life. Some of us analyze and reflect, others blame, scream and argue. Complications arise to push us towards evolution. Babies are born. Death is everywhere. Love and connection come calling to rattle our senses.
Pain passes from one to another as if through a shifting flame. Some of us go deep inside to seek an ancient knowledge embedded within the spirit beyond the flesh.
Truths are often distorted until it feels right — till you’ve positioned the situation someplace where you can summon a sense of false justification for the wrongs you’ve caused.
It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. You can only do the best you can at any given moment.
But the truth simmers deep within. It hides in the core of your being and awaits your attention. Someday, you will make an internal leap toward a tsunami of revelations that will uncover all that you have buried — All that you’ve tried to forget, and all that will unravel you when you are brave enough to explore the uncharted path.
No one escapes the human experience. Above all else, each one of us yearns to be pulled out from the inside by someone who can really see us. We crave to be heard by those we love and hold dear.
Do we really listen to one another?
Life. Death. Love & Connection — All that encompasses the moments between birth and death may never be fully articulated, but in sharing our experiences and deepest truths, we may reach greater states of the human condition.
We may bond and understand. We may love more deeply, forgive faster and speak to one another without judgement, fear or resentment.
We may discover a better world.
“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
If I said …
However, that one thing encompasses many different facets of the same jewel. Within gratitude, there is love and hope. There is appreciation and strength, consciousness and humility.
There are concepts which transcend the specific aspects in life. There are aspects which occupy the shadows which I try not to complain about because it seems inconsistent with the gratitude I have for my life.
— Xavier Eastenbrick.
If I said …
With death comes distinction. The contrast between the living and the dead is absolute. Mortality becomes reality. Yet, so does our immortality — the eternal spirit within. You feel it more than ever.
When sharing time with a dying person, the space becomes sacred; the energy shifts into something higher to aid the transition.
Divinity is revealed.
When you can sense that, the pain accompanying the death of a loved one becomes enshrined with a god-force — with love and gratitude.
Respect and love for everything is magnified. Death is all around, and you learn that what was once a great fear is no more.
— Kim Petersen.
If I said …
Sacred Bonds & friendship.
“May love find you and wrap your heart in an inspired cocoon, and draw from that wrapping the beautiful butterfly of you coming into all your being.
Live out loud and let nothing steal your voice. Let 2020 be a year of transmutation.”
— Xavier Eastenbrick.
Love is a snippet of conversation:
“You say the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. How come?”
“I don’t just say things. I mean what I say, I think you know that. I trust you.”
“I trust you, too.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you and the gift of your communication.”
“Who are you?”
— Xavier & Kim
Love is stripping the layers and living from the inside out. It’s being willing to share yourself with someone because you know they sense your worth.
They see you and you see them back. To love and be loved is the highest privilege.
It would depend on when you asked me because over the years it has evolved from a concept rattling around the developing mind of a young man, to an amorphous, overwhelming emotion, to an intensely conscious feeling of its presence within me.
Since encountering her, love immediately gravitates to mean her.
Love floods my soul with a radiating energy that extends to all parts of my creativity and the best parts of me; both in the now and in the making. Love pushes me forward. While at the same time, when needed, it keeps me at a distance.
Many confuse sexual desire and lust for love, and while they exist in the bounds of love the reality is, those elements alone are hollow and ephemeral. When desire and lust exist within love, they have the ability to transmute the energy of love into another level of consciousness; the space between the intersecting circles of the Vesica Piscis.
Once this energy is created, it multiplies just as cells divide and becomes life within the order of the universe’s sacred geometry.
My life has been the crucible fire; forging an understanding of love that makes me humble to appreciate the dichotomy of the smallness of me as a being, but also the infinite of participating in it.
Aside from the fate laden descriptive way I articulated my response, love is also playful and personal; it’s laughing with abandon, soft to the touch, and a raging passionate monster almost untameable.
Love fearlessly searches for greater degrees of depth.
If I said …
Oneness. Completion. Tranquillity. Truth.
Connection is that slight pulse that begins in your soul and grows intense when confronting deep truths. The feeling you cannot ignore when you sense the invisible cords linking you to something more; something beautiful … something like higher-love and all that is.
It is inner-recognition; a spark igniting in your soul when you encounter someone significant. The flame. It’s piecing the puzzles of moments passed and marveling at divine synchronicity.
It is being afraid to explore sacred bonds but finding the courage to go there because to deny the connection is to deny yourself the opportunity to experience the deepest love you’ll ever know.
Connection is peeking from the blinders to behold the wonderful moments when clarity finds you; when you become still and reach for more. When you find the key to unlock parts of your soul to revelations that blow your mind and you realize connection had never eluded you.
It was you that had avoided real connection all along.
Thank you for reading! What’s your answer when confronted by those words?
In this collection of short, heartfelt essays, Kim Petersen explores what it means to live an authentic life, strengthen bonds and nurture real connections in a hyper-connected world, while Xavier Eastenbrick goes deep on the Twin Flame Soul Connection.
Each piece shares the unpredictable, meaningful and often humorous experiences of one woman’s journey as a daughter, a wife and a lover, a mother and a friend as she ignores boundaries to get real and gritty.
In these short pieces, Kim and Xavier tease out their vulnerabilities to bring unity and love to the page by recounting some of their most pivotal moments, deepest fears and wildest dreams. Through their unique voices, you will find a safe place to laugh, cry and be inspired to live an authentic life.
If you like to explore deep soul connections, love and sexuality, and ponder the meaning of life with a side of humor, this book is for you. Life. Death. Love & Connection is the first collection of short memoirs from Whispering Ink, with bestselling author Kim Petersen and Xavier Eastenbrick.
Last night, I attended a Shamanic Drumming circle. It had been a few months since I had joined circle. When my friend Catherine mentioned the upcoming session, I didn’t hesitate — something inside me recognized the need for the soul-cleansing and inner-healing these sacred drumming circles bring to my psyche.
It was the black dog.
I knew that spending two hours in a sacramental environment listening to our Shaman teachers speak of shedding, soul-growth and revitalization would provide the perfect outlet to get away from myself; away from thought, feelings and the depression shadowing me.
I have battled bouts of depression in the past as well as anxiety on occasion. As much as I have tried to deny how I’m feeling is as much as it produces feelings of failure — admitting to a decline in happiness seems to equate with being an epic screw-up.
The thing is, I know better. I know how to identify the triggers. I have studied philosophical teachings offered by the great ancient masters of Buddhism; Stoicism; Shamanism and the like. I have spent years learning, practicing and seeing the results produced by raising my awareness through meditation and deliberate pondering, as well as the benefits achieved by controlling my thoughts.
Yet, I am still not immune to depression. Have I failed in my quest for inner-peace and happiness? Did I do something wrong?
Honestly, it is my belief that not many of us manage to avoid experiencing some form of mental dysfunction during our lifetimes — no matter how aware we become or how informed we are. Especially in this day and age.
There is so much going on all the time. Lifestyle has become a fast blur. People have become disconnected; replaceable. We treat one another as if exchangeable goods, never really seeing or acknowledging the precious soul behind the flesh. Never really holding one another.
Internet-based relationships for business and social purposes means we are able to engage with others without actually becoming invested in their authenticity. It means we can pretend that the person on the other side of the screen isn’t real. Feelings become invalidated; people become a dime-a-dozen and avoiding the hook is as easy as deactivating your account or hitting the “block” icon.
Only the joke is on us.
We are losing sight of the importance of connection. Our sense of self becomes tainted by behaving like strangers, ditching good manners, ghosting and treating others less than they deserve.
Where is the organic connection? Where is the love?
Writers are among the most prone to depression, but I wasn’t always a writer and I’m not sure that I was always prone to depression. I’ve always had a solid grasp on my feelings for the most part.
The writing life does something to you. It changes you. We delve into the deepest parts of ourselves, get vulnerable and share our inner-most layers with the world. Writing becomes a channel of self-discovery; a passage of growth and exploration. Sometimes, we soar. Other times, we bleed.
Creating stories has the ability to make you fly.
It is when I am working on my fiction that I’m at my happiest. Yet, there are so many elements about the writing business that can leave us feeling utterly deflated.
Kay Redfield Jamison, who is a professor at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine in Baltimore and author of Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament has reported that writers experience depression more often than non-writers.
It is thought this is due to several reasons.
For one, some writers desire to be familiar with misery, suffering and pain to guide the writing process and give their work authenticity. They may have not experienced the deep sense of trials and tribulations as their characters, so they seek to gain insight by manifesting similar emotions.
Extended hours of isolation, lack of exercise and natural light is another factor to influence depression in writers.
There is also the emotional roller coaster associated with rejection, which is an element familiar to just about every writer — Rejection in the form of editor’s, publishers, agents, readers and peers.
Clinical psychiatrist Alan Manevitz says: “A large part of a writer’s success depends on how other people think of him or approve.”
How many times have you emailed another writer who is further along the path than yourself only to be ignored?
And all you said was thank you.
How often has one of your peers deliberately inserted a subliminal swipe at your work or future project ideas? How many times have you read some trivial heated debate among writers on social media, or heard authors in a position of influence publicly slam the works of others?
I am not sure how success has assimilated a superior attitude.
I don’t understand why some people behave in ways that breed contempt.
I cannot fathom why we feel the need to judge, ridicule or perceive a sense threat toward one another when we’re all in it together — there are readers aplenty. There are words abundance. Limitation is an illusion.
So is separateness.
They say that depression lies in the past; anxiety waits in the future. But I think those blue feelings can strike for other reasons as well. Sometimes, even the thickest skin becomes porous enough for negativity to seep through. Sometimes, people and situations hurt like hell.
If only members of the writing community could see past their own egos long enough to get real, we might be able to hold and support each other long enough to feel the authenticity on the other side of the screen — to acknowledge that the person beyond the screen is a real human with real feelings.
Last night, my Shaman teacher concluded the circle by suggesting we all hug each other. My first reaction was to baulk at the idea. I’m not a hugger of strangers, even when bonding over a sacred alter and making medicine together.
Yet, as the other circle members approached me with their arms wide open and I stepped into their embrace, I realized how symbolic the gesture was and found myself in a state of appreciation — acts of kindness and affection go a long way to healing the invisible threads connecting us.
We may not be able to physically embrace all of the time, but our energy is as tangible as anything in the physical world. Perhaps if writers practiced hugging one another on the energetic level instead of looking for ways to get outraged or feel threatened, our community will become less hostile and more loving; more supportive.
Even if it stretches our comfort zone. Especially if it stretches our comfort zone.
“Did you ever want to step into someone else’s feet?”
I tore my eyes from the gulls screeching above the waves that crashed against the jagged rocks, their wings beating against the briny air as they swooped the water’s surface looking for a meal. A faint smile played over my lips.
“Don’t you mean shoes?”
The breeze captured Scarla’s platinum locks as amber eyes settled on me. Her smile was as meek as mine, dissolving just as fast when she dropped her gaze to grab a handful of sand. My throat restricted. The wind instantly carried a chord of torment as I watched her.
“No.” She allowed the golden grains to fall from between her fingers. She raised her chin toward the sky and squeezed her eyes shut. “Thousands of footprints have marked this beach over just as many years; I’d give anything to step in any one of them.”
My stomach hollowed.
“But then you wouldn’t be here with me in this moment.” I reached to catch a tear as it splashed over her cheek, folding my palm against her smooth skin while my gaze melted into her. She was all I saw in a disintegrating world. She was everything. “You would rather be elsewhere?”
She leaned her chin into my palm, her lashes dewy when she met my stare.
“Yes, with you, Jett.”
“Where should we go?”
My gaze instantly fell to her lips when she smiled. Pale pink and plump. They reminded me of blossoms and lifted my heart in much the same way. She had a way of doing that. She had a way of bringing me undone.
“Florence.” She pulled away from my touch, combing a hand through unruly hair as it wisped across her face. Her white blouse rippled and clung to her breasts.
“Ah, you want to immerse yourself in some Italian Renaissance, Bella donna? Where should we start? The Galleria degli Uffizi?”
“That will do just fine, signor. We’ll spend our days exploring galleries, eating crostini di fegato and drinking chianti while we marvel at the architectural masterpieces. Afterwards, we will put on our best threads and go to the opera.”
I feigned a frown.
“The opera? Hmm…”
“What?” She gave me a gentle nudge. “I’m sure you can conjure up your inner-aristocrat for a few hours if need be.”
“Only for you, Bella donna.”
I shifted, positioning myself behind her on the sand and pulling her between my legs so that her back molded against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my nose near her ear and breathing in her scent. She stiffened, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rumbling waters.
“Do you think the virus has spread that far?”
“If it has, we’ll get love-drunk on chianti at the opera with them. I hear the undead love high society.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing.” I pressed my lips against her temple. She tasted salty. Sensually salty. My voice was husky when I spoke next. “Can’t we just pretend a little longer?”
She arched her neck so that her throat stretched beneath the afternoon sun. Her eyes closed as she leaned further into me, reaching to claw her fingers through the dark hair curling at my nape. I wanted her now, but I knew this wasn’t the time nor the place for intimacy. We were alone on the beach, yet that could change at any moment. People were seldom friendly these days. Especially those that we call the hawkers.
My gaze drifted toward the horizon as I held her in my arms. If I could pretend on anything, it would be any place but here as long as she was by my side. It would be some place where the Vampiric virus ravaging the earth couldn’t reach.
They say everything happens for a reason. Yet, I could think of no justifiable reason for the horror our world had become. Almost overnight, the lives of millions of people worldwide had turned into a living nightmare. A harsh reality where those infected by the virus feasted on humanity during the dark hours. Now, it was the kindred that were fast staking supremacy over the earth; humans had become the minority.
My thoughts shifted to my daughter, Avila, who we’d left behind in our hidden cottage; the meager refuge we’d sought after fleeing the city when it became obvious that I could no longer help contain the rapid spread of the virus. We were among the lucky ones who got out just in time.
“We should get back to the cottage,” I said, knowing that she wasn’t ready to leave. It wasn’t often that we stole time away from the cottage. I’d come here for her. Sometimes, she needed to dream.
She squirmed in my arms, swinging around to face me. Her brows creased.
“Just a little longer? I want to trek through some footprints before we go back.” She motioned toward the sand etched with shallow prints. “Will you join me?”
I held her gaze, smiling behind the pain of all I knew she’d suffered and lost to the outbreak. She’d lost her little boy at the hands of a vampire. I shook my head.
“Go find your rainbow, Bella donna. I’ll wait here.”
“Okay.” Her eyes deepened against the blue of mine as her lips slightly parted and she leaned toward me. I groaned inwardly as the sweet taste of promises to come found my mouth with her kiss. They say that the eyes are the gateway to the soul. I think lips are the same for the body. She pulled away and leapt to her feet, casting me a grin. “I’ll be ten minutes. You can watch my rainbow from here.”
I scanned the beach again, pushing away the apprehension that shadowed my every waking hour.
“Stay where I can see you.”
My words were swallowed in the wind and the space between us as she walked toward the shore, but I knew she wouldn’t wander far from me. She was more than aware of the lurking dangers in the form of hawkers. They were the ones who polluted the daylight hours by terrorizing the survivors. The profane remains of humanity who relished the aftermath with unspeakable acts of violence. Thankfully, we hadn’t encountered any hawkers this far from the city. Still, you can never be too vigilant.
I watched Scarla for a few minutes as she stomped between prints, and looking back at me every now and then, smiling. She was safe enough that I took a breath and sprawled back into the sand. The warm grains cushioned my head as I closed my eyes beneath the sun, inviting the false sense of well-being its rays provided.
For the millionth time since the arrival of the V-Virus, I thought about the continuation of life. It isn’t until you are faced with endless death and chaos that you realize the earth will stop for nothing and no one. There are no free rides out of here when evil comes calling. No help lines to pull you from the brink of insanity.
A few moments passed and I became aware of the breeze gathering speed, catching clumps of my hair as the sand sprayed like sharp needles against my skin. Suddenly, I felt cold all over, the breeze blowing in a sense of dread. I sat up abruptly, looking back to the place I’d last spotted Scarla scouring the shoreline but she wasn’t there.
My heart thumped hard against my chest as I stood up and scanned the beach. I was confronted by a stretch of bronze sand in every direction as far as the eye could see, barren of life apart from the gulls that squawked and hovered above the waves licking the shore.
I could feel my head begin to spin as I called her name, but my words were instantly stolen by the wind as panic gripped me and my feet dug into the sand to seek out her footprints. Prints that I knew would haunt me for the rest of my days.
You often hear about people being in the zone.
Painters being in another place, the paintbrush seeming to have a mind of its
own; musicians so engrossed in the music they are creating. You only have to
look at some of the great guitarists to see what I mean; writers sitting at the
keyboard for hours without a break, not wanting to stop because the words just
If only it was like that all of the time. Alas, that is not always how
it is. Sometimes, we just sit and look at the screen, the empty sheet music
page or canvas and nothing flows.
I am not a writer, artist or musician. I am a Clairvoyant and, in my
work, I have to go to my highest self and above every time I connect to Spirit.
The principals are the same. The following are some of the practices I use to
centre and reconnect to my higher creative self.
Drink water, without hydration you cannot work to your highest potential.
Breathe. The breath is one of the most important and easiest tools we can use to open to our highest creative self.
Close your eyes and take in a deep breath, breathing in through your crown and into your heart.
Take another deep
breath, in through your feet and into your heart. Take another deep breath in
of love from the universe and feel your heart expand.
Breathe in love
from the earth and feel your heart expand.
Breathe in the I AM
love from the universe into your heart, breathe in the I AM love from the earth
into your heart.
Feel your heart
expand, the energy in your heart is your creative essence, let it expand.
Feel the love for the I AM self that is you,
feel it, sit with it, be one with it and allow it to expand and flow through
you to every cell of your being.
Opening your eyes when you are ready.
Affirmations are such a wonderful way of instilling self-belief.
I am a Creative Being
I know who I am and I know how I serve
I am open to my joy
I am peace and allow my joy to flow
We can’t change what we don’t acknowledge. I also believe that we can change something by looking at the emotion that you are feeling. Sit with it, bring it into your heart, not your mind.
How does it feel?
What emotion are you experiencing?
Fear, anger, frustration, not good enough, fraud? All emotions are valid, even it they are not real. i.e. you are always good enough etc.
Feel the emotion,
hold it in your heart and say this until it lessens or goes away.
I CLEANSE YOU. I CLEAR YOU. I LOVE YOU
I CLEANSE YOU. I CLEAR YOU. I LOVE YOU
I CLEANSE YOU. I CLEAR YOU. I LOVE YOU
Prayer or Invocation
I always use a simple invocation before every reading, or healing. You can do the same thing. It doesn’t have to be a long drawn out prayer it can be very simple. As I work with Spirit, I always ask for God and the angels to be with me. You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, but I will say asking your angels for help is one thing that you can do and the angels love helping you.
You can say something simple like:
“Thank you, angels for being with me while I write
Thank you, angels for helping me through this block
I call on all the Angels of Creativity to be with me today.”
Judy is a well-known Psychic Medium and Workshop facilitator who is now
in the beautiful and tranquil Tanilba Bay, Port Stephens.
With the move to Port Stephens she will be concentrating more on her
Reading and Healing work with a focus on Light Language.
Skype and phone sessions are available for my overseas, interstate and
distant clients, or if you just can’t get to me in person. Distances makes no
difference to the quality of the session as everything is done with Spirit and
your higher self.
With a quirky sense of humour and many years’ experience, including reading at festivals, the Mind Body Spirit, New Age Shops and her private rooms, you are guaranteed a high degree of accuracy, empathy, integrity and confidentiality.
Turn highly sensitive characteristics into a power tool for your writing career.
“I’m a fraud!”
“I’m not a good enough writer.”
“What am I thinking? No one will be interested in reading my work.”
Any of these self-deprecating mantras resonate with you?
Mantra. There’s a word. If you’re thinking it’s one that doesn’t quite gel with the negative connotation preceding it, then you’d be right. Words like ‘self-deprecating’. A quick squiz at Wikipedia will inform you that the word “mantra” denotes a sacred meaning, a numinous sound or utterance — ‘A group of words in Sanskrit believed by practitioners to have psychological and/or spiritual powers’.
No, I’m not delusional (yet!) nor am I messing around with your head. I’m not attempting to spin a dark twist on an ancient practice rooted in the divine, either, but I did choose the word ‘mantra’ for a reason.
Still uncertain about my intentions? Read on, skeptic creatives, as I attempt to dissect our self-sabotaging inner-demons and pave a way to eliminate those bad boys forever.
Imposter syndrome (IS) is a psychological phenomenon in which people are unable to internalize their accomplishments. In a nutshell, IS boils down to lack of self-belief and self-confidence. This upbeat, feel-good phenomenon isn’t just reserved for the creatives of the world. We’re not so special in that regard. It affects people in all walks of life. However, are you aware that creatives are almost always highly sensitive people who respond to the world in a more reactive way? Nuances like IS are always lingering beneath the surface, ready to pounce.
The nature of writing is an extremely personal practice. Through our words we purge our souls, bleed our hearts, drown in our experiences and flirt with our innermost fears and desires.
We draw on those cards; writers write about what obsesses them.
But finding the courage to go there doesn’t always equate with the fearlessness required when the time comes to share our gift with the world. For highly sensitive people, this is the moment when imposter syndrome strikes like an old relic you cannot shake.
You know what I’m saying. It’s that moment of truth. You’ve just spent countless hours banging on the keyboard and drinking endless cups coffee. You are a writer — committed to story and dedicated to producing your best work and all that entails as you’ve persevered through the long journey. You’ve plotted and outlined. You’ve developed and argued with your characters; you’ve spent more time procrastinating than you’ll admit, and there were times when you succumbed to resistance. Afterwards, you probably paid with a hefty side of guilt. You’ve gnawed, screamed and knuckled down. Then you’ve pushed through the creative blocks and rejoiced when those sweet, magical bouts of inspiration arrived to flow into your words.
Ah, the life of a writer — fascinating yet frustrating all at the same time. And rewarding, because all those hours accumulated to produce your baby, and now that you’ve cleaned, pampered and typed the last words on your preciousness, other people are going to read your work. People are going to judge your intellectual labor too. Cringe.
Brace yourself, dear writer, as you battle those rancid nerves and sometimes forget that you need to breathe. I’m not sure this feeling will ever completely subside but I can offer you a few tools to combat those inner brutes as well as provide suggestions for turning highly sensitive characteristics into a power tool for your writing career.
So, take a deep breath as we get into the guts of this article.
High Sensitivity is a Superpower
Science has confirmed the existence of high sensitivity (did we really need it validated?). In fact, research has showed about 20% of the population are highly sensitive by default. What I mean is that people don’t choose to respond to the world in a sensitive way, they just do.
Before you go brushing this trait away as a sign of weakness, think again. Studies reveal that highly sensitive people (HSP) are often intellectually gifted and are extremely empathetic creatures. They have a heightened sense of awareness too, with an uncanny ability to pick up on the emotions and vibes of those around them. Additionally, highly sensitive people are more likely to cultivate and trust their ability to become attuned and communicate with their higher-mind, AKA their inner-guidance system. Superpowers!
Being a highly sensitive person can mean pain. Quite literally. You may experience acute physical, mental or emotional responses to many situations. These triggers may be external or internal (damned those intrapersonal feedback loops!) While some people want to accredit high sensitivity to the shy at heart, this is not always the case. They can be introverted, extroverted or somewhere in between. However, the traits making you highly sensitive can also be a magical gift for being an amazing writer. Let’s look at how we can use sensitivity to enrich our creative writing.
Embrace your Super-Sensitive Qualities.
HSPs are aware of details. This characteristic is invaluable as a writer. Often, the small details in our stories can be overlooked or drowned in the bigger global story. Whether it’s story structure and plot or character development, paying attention to detail can provide the qualities and insights that will enable our manuscripts to shine.
This mystical resource is critical to the success of every fiction writer. However, the best fiction taps into the minute details that brings characters and scenes to life.For example: An unexpected character thought, reaction, oddity or flaw; the paint flaking as a door opens; the slight limp in his swagger; the way her eyes glaze when she becomes whimsical. You get the drift. Without extreme sensitivity, these details might be impossible to capture.
Writing is sharing information and giving to the world. This is particularly true for non-fiction writers. Our true intentions stretch beyond literal recognition or other desires. The act of being an author is generous. Non-fiction authors spend hours tapping into their most sensitive parts — downloading their brain, coordinating and cataloging their thoughts to produce their most useful information to benefit others.
Now that we’ve plunged into why imposter syndrome may be a prominent factor affecting writers and covered a few ways high sensitivity can positively impact our creative work, it’s time to break open the shell, reach within and circle back to those mantras. It’s time to explore the Solar Plexus, discover its key characteristics and how we can make the most of this powerful energy center.
The Solar Plexus is part of the sympathetic nervous system.
This complex system of radiating nerves and ganglia is found in the pit of the stomach. While it plays a vital role in the functioning of the stomach, kidneys, liver, and adrenal glands, this bunch of nerves is also responsible for anxiety symptoms.
That’s right; after the initial rush of excitement accompanying a book release, how often does that high suddenly fade into an internal slide into self-doubt and belief? If this scenario sounds familiar to you, then you’ll know it’s a bad case of imposter syndrome that’s making you feel like a walking scam.
Considering it is the Solar Plexus in our physical bodies that lies at the center of these discordant feelings, we’re going to push beyond the flesh, nerves and ganglia to explore this part of ourselves in a somewhat intangible sense. We’re going to get a little esoteric and discuss the Solar Plexus Chakra.
You’ve probably heard about the seven chakras that exist in our subtle etheric bodies. They are often referenced in the context of emotional healing or meditation. However, you may have found the concept confusing, or not quite figured out what place it might have in your life. But don’t fret, it’s not just the experts that can work with chakras; you can too.
The Solar Plexus Chakra is the third chakra. It is located just above your navel, resonating with the color yellow. This is the energy center associated with self-belief, self-worth, ego, courage, confidence, and personal power. It is vital for this energy center to be balanced so that we don’t experience negative emotional issues.
Let’s examine some of the main elements correlating with the third chakra before moving on to talk about a few alternative approaches we can take to ease our anxiety when it comes to those jarring feelings imposter syndrome can produce.
Key Meanings Associated with the Solar Plexus Chakra.
· Willpower and personal power
· Taking responsibility for one’s life, accepting self-control
· Mental abilities — the intellect
· Forming personal opinions and beliefs
· Making decisions, setting the direction
· Clarity of judgment
· Personal identity
· Self-assurance, self-confidence
Signs your Solar Plexus Chakra may be Imbalanced.
· Excessive control and authority over your environment and people
· Or the opposite in case of blocked energy: Feelings of helplessness.
· Being obsessed with minute details, seeing life through a filter of negativity which may cause you to lose sight of the bigger picture
· Being manipulative
· Misusing your power
· Lack of clear direction, purpose or ambition
· Self-sabotaging behavior and feelings
The Solar Plexus Chakra plays an important role in our self-confidence and self-worth. When this area is out of balance or blocked, we can experience feelings of depression or anxiety, lack of self-control and low self-esteem. These symptoms can also manifest physically and may include:
· Irritable bowel problems
· Reflux problems
· Binge eating
· Overweight or underweight issues
· Diabetes and stomach ulcers
As we move through life, it is important for us to maintain our health in all facets — mind, body and soul. Given the nature of our hyper-connected world, sometimes this can be a challenging state to achieve. If your personality leans toward the highly sensitive side, events like book releases can become overwhelming, particularly when facing deep-seated, self-worth issues fanned by the frenetic flames of imposter syndrome.
By focusing on clearing the Solar Plexus chakra, we can find balance in those moments when dissonance becomes a prominent emotion. Here are a few tools to get you back on track and back to the page.
Crystals for Third Chakra Balance.
Did you know that crystals vibrate with specific frequencies of color and light? There are many crystals and gemstones that help to balance and clear the Solar Plexus Chakra of blockages. Solar Plexus Chakra crystals include:
Happiness and confidence, emits large amounts of positive energy. This crystal encourages you to maintain a positive state of mind to attract everything you want in life.
A crystal of positive energy. Helpful for negative thoughts fixed on misfortune and despair.
Helps to increase your vitality and strength. It can give one new hope and a renewed sense of optimism.
Helps to release fears and anxieties. It is a great stone for giving courage and self-confidence. Particularly helpful for those who experience lack of self-worth.
Now that we’ve lined up a few crystals, you may be wondering how we’re going to use these gem-babies to help balance our energy center. I have two words for you — meditation and mantras. Yes, this is the part we turn those self-deprecating “mantras” into something positive. So, grab your crystals and let’s get started!
Meditation and Crystals for Third Chakra Balance.
Meditation is an extremely effective way to balance and clear your chakras. The following is an example of how to combine crystals with meditation and mantras when your Solar Plexus Chakra feels out of balance.
1. Hold your crystals in your non-dominant hand while sitting or place them on your body above the naval while lying down.
2. Inhale deeply and imagine a white light coming into the top of your head, allow the light to fill your entire body.
3. When you exhale, imagine any negative energy releasing from your body through your breath — consciously release any low energy vibes and stress.
4. Envision a golden ball of light below your naval spinning clockwise. Every time you inhale, imagine this light growing bigger and brighter. As you breathe out imagine all the blockages and negative energy leaving your being.
Mantras for Third Chakra Balance.
· I am a great writer
· Through my words, I have much to offer the world
· I can make a difference
· I believe in myself
· I am confident
· I am worthy of success, happiness, love (or insert desirable outcome here)
· I am grateful for the opportunities presented to me
· I am a creative writer
· I have the courage to keep going and conquer my fears
· I am everything I wish to bring forth
I’m certain you’ll agree these affirmations sound more like the sacred mantras Wikipedia told us about earlier, right? The greatest thing about practicing mantras is that you can offer yourself any positive outcome you desire. Your thoughts and words have power beyond the ones you release to the world in the form of your stories. They also form the essence of who you are, so choose them wisely.
Now that you’ve become more acquainted with imposter syndrome and high sensitivity and discovered ways to balance your all-powerful Solar Plexus Chakra, it’s worth remembering how important it is to practice self-care.
When you balance your Solar Plexus center, you will feel lighter and confident, and recognize your true potential. You are a creative being, here to spread love into the world through your words and creations. Keeping yourself balanced and cultivating your self-belief will not only improve your quality of life, but also reflect in your work.
Give it a shot sometime; what have you got to lose other than the demonic imposter syndrome?
Natural disasters. Terrorism. Racism. Human rights. Animal cruelty. Inequality.
The world won’t stop for you. Nature will always do its thing, and people … well, they will always be people. Personally, I am among the benevolent among humanity. There is not an inch of me that understands the unjust behaviors often displayed by mankind. I reject discrimination, hate and fear. I reject cruelty of all kinds — violence, malicious intent, inequality, intolerance, corruption and the mistreatment of animals. I renounce spite, resentment and narrow-mindedness.
Humanity is capable of deplorable acts and a merciless attitude. For those that feel deeply, live compassionately and with heart, these immoral behaviors can be extremely unsettling. I turn away from that which affects me negatively and focus on bringing positive and uplifting qualities into the world.
Sometimes, it can be difficult to ignore the ugly stuff. Sometimes, it hits close to home. So close, the option to ignore becomes impossible.
Other times, we are faced with issues and situations at the micro level; personal conditions involving love and relationships, responsibilities, an unseen event or financial concerns. Those are the ordeals we can’t pretend don’t exist. At least, not for very long. Those conditions are a part of life and are also the ones that grip our emotions and cause our bodies to react in some way as our nerves stretch to the very edge.
Stress. It affects us all at some point in varying degrees. Whether it is becoming disturbed about the horrible things affecting our world or our personal experiences, we have no choice but to learn how to cope with the twists and turns life throws at us. Professional writer or not, I believe writing has many benefits from the psychological standpoint. But as writers and creatives, it is through the written word that we find the perfect outlet to work through our emotions, as well as drive home our beliefs and visions for the world. Depending on where you want to take it.
We are complex creatures with many layers and depth. We view the world through the fluidity of our unique perspectives as we evolve, change and reach for new experiences. We are the flesh and blood; the tangible and malleable. Yet, we are also the esoteric and the mysterious; the light and the dark dwell within each of us. And it is our emotions that are our greatest muse.
Words are power
‘Everything begins with words — our stories, thoughts, messages. Each word has its own vibration too. It is these vibrations that create the reality that surrounds us. Words create more than just stories; they inform our universe, our lives and our reality — and they teach us. Through creating words, I have managed to reacquaint myself more fully with my soul and to live a more authentic, love-driven and passionate life.’
Exploring our feelings through writing — personal journals or storytelling — is extremely therapeutic. Some of these benefits include:
By expressing yourself and communicating complex ideas in a much more effective way, you can discover your true self and honor that part of you.
Emptying your mind through writing helps to eliminate the stress hammering in your head. Capturing those moments, developing and working through your ideas produces a ripple effect; since not only do you declutter your mind, but it is also a process of rationalization.
Writing activates neurons in your brain and gets you set to face the day. It is demonstrated that setting your goals or systems in writing significantly increases the possibilities of achieving them.
You will learn more
About yourself, the world and others.
You will strengthen and cultivate your writing skills. You will find your voice.
You will gain awareness
If you write down what you have in mind regularly — your dreams, worries, fears, deepest desires — you will realize yourself.
So, now that we’ve explored some of the benefits of writing, let’s take a quick look at how we can use our emotions in our work to enrich our characters and stories.
Frustrated or angry
Use the rage to create story conflict. Inject the anger into your words and release the tension. You’ll find those pages to be edgy and fast, your characters a little narky or moody. Get gritty, dark, even profane. Burn your scenes with the crude and rude, twist the plot with vengeance in your heart and your readers will thank you.
Even better. Those words will capture depth and authenticity, pain and despair. Use the turbulent heart to stain your words with grief, bitterness and agony. Your characters are now real, complicated and imperfect. Your plot may be a little dangerous, shady or inspirational. Whatever feeling you’re attempting to convey, it will be sure to bring your readers to their knees as they resonate with your energy.
Humor brings joy to the world and to your readers. Allow your happiness to bounce into your words and fill the pages with positivity and feelgood vibes. Surge ahead and spread the happy!
Alchemy and deep treasures abound through words of love. There is nothing more sacred in the world. By allowing your love to infect your story, you become an instrument of the highest order. The greatest mystery; the pinnacle of life — love. Deep love. It doesn’t get more real than this. The world cannot get enough of this stuff. Neither can your readers.
Despair and Gloom
The heartbeat of your story; the why, how and where. The all-is-lost moment — vanished goals, mammoth obstacles, impossible situations — build the conflict for your characters and make your story matter. There is a time for everything; a time for tears and expressing the darkness; a time to mourn and wallow in pain. It is through pain that we learn our greatest lessons; through pain that we are reminded we’re still alive. Lend your characters the gift of pain and feel your own lighten in return.
Whether we’re reacting to widespread chaos, disasters or events in the greater world or the experiences we endure in our own worlds, writing is an exceptional tool to use to navigate those rocky waters and glorious peaks life offers us. So, the next time you are feeling a strong emotion, go ahead and get into your writing and see where it takes you.
Our stories can uplift the world one reader at a time. The world needs your emotionally driven words now more than ever. The world needs your love and emotion in all its forms.