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Soul Purpose & Connections for Creativity

“There are no accidental meetings between souls.” – Sheila Burke

At some point we’ve probably all contemplated our purpose during this lifetime. It is not unusual to find ourselves pondering the big stuff:

What is my purpose?
What can I share and contribute to the world?
What is my legacy?
How can I make authentic connections?
What is my life’s meaning?

Sound familiar? It is logical that we reach a stage in our lives when we yearn for something more and meaningful—a time when we set out to seek answers about our world, our existence and soul purpose. In Maslow’s five-stage hierarchy of needs, this self-discovery phrase of life rests at the top of his five-tier pyramid model in motivational psychology. Self-actualization is the process of realizing personal potential and self-fulfillment, as well as seeking personal growth and peak experiences. It is the desire to become everything we can become.

Creative writing is a soul-calling or soul-urge. I have yet to meet a writer to have stated otherwise. I mean, just look at what we put ourselves through – We choose to sit for prolonged periods at a time to slave (and sometimes procrastinate) over words. It is like homework. To most people it sounds like tedious homework, and let’s face it, sometimes it can feel that way. It is during those doubtful moments that remembering why you began writing that will help to bring you back to your truth. Your why. For what reasons did you begin writing?

I’m going to assume that you write books because your soul urges you to create stories to share with the world. Writing is a soul-driven occupation navigated by the wings of passion. Each writer is driven by an unknown force to create and release their messages to the world. It is through creating literature that we find meaning and purpose to our lives. It is through the creative soul connections we encounter along the way that we find ease and divine symphony as we fuse together to create for a higher purpose.

I have discovered so much about myself since I began writing. I can vividly recall the feeling that encapsulated me when I sat before a blank screen to begin writing my first book. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before – an acute rush of tingles and exquisite surges filled my being. It was as if my soul rejoiced in the moment. It was a confirmation that I’d finally discovered my soul purpose; my life purpose.

My writing journey has been a wonderfully fulfilling experience that continues to nourish and feed my soul. I still haven’t stopped learning about myself, others and the world. Since I began writing, I have almost become a different person. What I mean is that while I had been living an authentic life prior to writing, the act of producing words has somehow reinforced and cultivated my self-perception, driving home my beliefs and values. Below I have listed some of the points that have come to light and/or strengthened within me since I have been writing:

I am worthy of having a voice and expressing myself.
What I have to say counts.
To value myself as a writer, a woman and a human being.
Not everyone will like what I create and that is perfectly fine.
Not everything I create will work and that’s okay too.
To own my truth and be proud of those truths even when others judge.
Living in fear is a life half lived.
It is okay to give the kids a frozen pizza every now then. This will not harm them, and it doesn’t make me a bad mother.
Sometimes the tooth fairy is forgetful, but she always makes up for it the following evening.
The words I create have power to uplift spirits an inch at a time.
I can make a difference and I am strong and tenacious enough to keep trying, no matter what.
Regardless of what I am working on, I have an unlimited resource of creativity available to me that I can access any time.
Connections are important to soul growth and creating. I have learned to cherish, honor and appreciate those connections.
I am not perfect and that’s okay.
People will appreciate and respect my imperfections as well as the honesty I bring to my work.
Writing from the heart will attract the right audience for me.
Believe and trust in myself and the universe.

Can you relate to any of the above? Do any of these points resonate with you?

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. In turn, embracing these rich inner layers will produce an unbridled fever that shines through my fictional and non-fictional writing.

Aside from the inner-growth, self-discovery and enrichment that your writing can bring to your life, we must acknowledge that our words can be extremely healing and enlightening to others. Too often we underestimate the power and importance of creativity. Therefore, there is a certain amount of responsibility that accompanies our work as writers. A certain amount of faith the universe has entrusted to us. This faith is also apparent within the connections that cross our paths throughout our writing journey.

We meet many people in our lifetime. Some are good and others are not. People cross our paths all the time, whether it be through social meetings and mutual acquaintances, work opportunities, meeting someone by chance at an event or some other scenario. They come and go, and mostly they may drift into the background of your past, barely summoning enough effort to be thought of again.

Then sometimes our paths collide with someone special – a kindred spirit that seems to stir something deep within us as if our souls have known that person long before we encounter them. Perhaps long before this lifetime. Often, people will come together to create something profound and important. It is through these crucial soul connections that our own creativity is renewed and energized, which can bring positive change to the world.

How do we know when we’ve encountered a profound creative soul connection?

Have you ever met someone with whom you feel an inexplicable connection? Upon meeting them you may have felt an instant pull that defies logic or reason. Even before getting to know them, you sensed a special dynamic that you felt compelled to explore. I have been fortunate enough to have encountered a kindred spirit or two during my writing journey. These special people have come into my life for the purpose of collaborative creation and to produce change at a deeper level within myself. Personally, I think that is how you know when you’ve met someone crucial – you unite for the sake of creation and their presence in your life somehow evokes a personal change.

Meeting Catherine was like that. We met when I attended one of her workshops during the Wollongong Writers Festival. I remember looking over all the workshops on offer prior to booking. I was immediately drawn to Catherine’s. I took notice of the underlying feelings that accompanied me when deciding whether to attend the event, and honestly, cannot fully articulate why, but I knew that something profound and important would result from attending. Specifically, there was a deep sensation surrounding Catherine, and that was before we had met.

Catherine is unlike anyone I have ever known. What I mean is that from the start it felt as if Catherine was someone I already knew before we even met. She was familiar to me. There exists a unique and special bond between us that we are both aware enough to recognize and appreciate. Our union has brought change to both our lives in positive and meaningful ways. The combination of us may appear highly contrasting on the surface – we often find a sense of amusement in contemplating our union. We think in different ways and our work is distinct from each other. Yet, it is those offbeat divergences that complement one another, and it seems to work. It has resulted in writing Creative Writing Energy together; a title we are excited about because the topics are a shared passion. Moreover, we are honored to share the culmination of our connection to bring that positivity direct to you in the form of these words.

Keeping that in mind, let’s look at some of the signs to be aware of that may signify a profound connection has entered your creative world:

1. They change you on a profound level. You will gradually sense that there is something about you that will never be the same. You may begin to feel a significant shift in your inner landscape that often reflects in your outer life.

2. The energy exchange that you have with a soul connection on a professional level will ignite your creative flow and bring a sense of “inner-knowing”. In short, these connections will make you want to be a better writer and person.

3. They bring contemplation to your life and make you aware of the things you love and hate about yourself. These individuals will always mirror your own qualities. In the creative realm, embracing these qualities will bring more passion and integrity to your words.

4. You know that you won’t forget them. We meet so many people over the course of our life. Our memories fade over time but soul connections cannot be easily forgotten. The imprint they leave on your soul, your work and life cannot be erased.

It is delicious, is it not? Soul work and life’s mysteries. The most important thing to remember when it comes to our creative soul connections is that when it happens, you will know. Writing doesn’t always have to be a solitary process. There is no mistaking the divine phenomena that exist when two souls come together to create for a higher purpose – you feel it all the way from your crown to the tips of your toes and it feels wonderful.

Therefore, the next time you sense something different or profound about someone you encounter along your writing journey, don’t be too hasty to push it aside. Allow yourself to submerge in the feelings and sit with the current of energies and acknowledge your intuitive powers. It is often these special connections that reveal to us more about ourselves and begin to shine a light on the path leading toward our higher-creative minds. It’s amazing what soul connections can help us to achieve as artists and as human beings.

Excerpt from Creative Writing Energy: Tools to Access your Higher-Creative Mind.

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Energy by Catherine Evans

Energy. I learned about it in science. It’s forever linked to E = mc2 and Einstein, for me. I played sport, so energy is also equal to exercise and doing things. And I also associate energy with people – she’s a high energy person, he’s a low energy guy, she takes my energy – yet I haven’t really understood what that meant.

Some years back, I wrote a short story about an energy/emotion draining vampire. It came out of my thoughts about people. When I was with some people, I left feeling completely hollow. Other people left me buoyed. Others I felt the same as when I’d met them. What did that mean?

As I started looking into things to improve my health, I came across stuff about ‘toxic people’ and how some people needed to be avoided because they took and didn’t give back. I started to recognise that these were often the people who left me drained. As I had less and less energy, I couldn’t be near these people, and I jettisoned so many. Some had been friends, some I thought were close friends, but they all seemed to roam away as soon as I couldn’t be a shoulder for them (or a source for their constant need for energy).

I didn’t understand it, even as I did it.

Last year, I had less and less energy every day and it worried me terribly. I had a virus, I had to rest and drink fluids. But this treatment wasn’t replenishing my energy. I had no clue how to get more. I began to read.

I read about Mindfulness and Meditation with a Jon Kabat-Zinn. It was eye opening. I’m hopeless at meditation, or so I thought, but he gave me hope.

Then I went on a reading journey where one book followed another, each building on what I’d learned. Mindfulness for Beginners by Zon Kabat-Zinn, then Medical Medium by Anthony William, then Cure by Jo Marchant, then Becoming Supernatural by Dr Joe Dispenza.

In Joe Dispenza’s Becoming Supernatural, he gave a heap of scientific reckoning to support his arguments. He took Einstein and made it relative to his arguments. He claims that emotions are energy. Negative emotions (anger, fear, stress, grief) have less (or heavier) energy than joyful emotions (gratitude, happiness, joy, love). At least, I think that’s what he said – that’s what I took from it anyway! The happier, lighter emotions oscillate at a higher frequency, they make you feel better, lighter. He says that meditation and focussing on the energy within you, can increase these joyful emotions and you can heal yourself by changing the expression of genes by changing hormonal responses.

Just before I bought this book, I had my first acupuncture session (after having a treatment many years before, but not continuing it). During the acupuncture treatment, I was left in a quiet, dark room with soft music playing. I had needles in my feet, hands, face, and lower legs. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do but lie there and relax. I felt like I was dying when I walked into that place. I’d driven the 20 mins to get there and it had exhausted me. I hadn’t driven for most of the year because I hadn’t had access to a car, so I was putting it down to stress, plus virus. As I laid there, wondering if this might help and hoping I’d be right to drive home, things started happening inside me. Tingling, fluttering things. It started in my toes and moved through my body. Slowly. Like ants crawling over me (except not as creepy or bitey!). My body began to twitch and move. Voluntarily. There was a white light in my mind and my stomach that was spreading (and I know this is weird, I had my eyes closed, but it’s warmth and heat is why I call it ‘light’ but it may not have been light as such). About halfway through the session, I felt like this was working. I had hope.

I left that place with energy.

I wish I could explain how that worked. In my science head, I’m thinking that the pinpricks into the skin begin some kind of immune system response, which fires up the immune system and that’s what I was feeling. But shit, I’d had a freaking virus for 12 months and that immune system had konked out trying to fight it. So how did this work?

I have no bloody idea.

But since then, I’ve improved every day. I have energy. I’m starting to feel those good emotions again – joy, love, gratitude, compassion. I’m doing my day job, plus writing, plus doing house and garden work, plus volunteering at the local nursery. I’ve been able to have visitors and go visiting. I’ve had energy to climb towers, run about with kids, swim, walk, travel. Things I could not for the life of my do the past 13 months when I could hardly do my day job and cook tea.

I don’t understand it, but as one of those books said, sometimes you just have to thank your left brain for trying to rationalise what’s happening, and let your right brain smile and be glad it’s occurring.

So, I’m celebrating. Celebrating the return/release of my energy.

In Becoming Supernatural, Dispenza says that energy is everywhere and it switches and changes and flows. He says sometimes we give energy to the outside flow, sometimes we draw it in from the outside, sometimes we circulate the energy within us.

Einstein said that Energy could neither be created nor destroyed. It sure felt like I’d destroyed mine, but I’m ever so glad I have it flowing again. I don’t intend to lose it anytime soon!

How’s your energy?

***

Originally published at Cate Ellink dot com on 02/18/2018

Kim & Catherine talk Energy!

Are you a writer interested in tapping into your higher-creative mind?

Releasing Soon!

Creative Writing Energy: Tools to Access Your Higher-Creative Mind will give you a range of alternative methods and ideas that you can use to access your higher-creative mind. That part of yourself that remains hidden and unexplored, and brimming with story ideas and characters you have yet to meet. Muse or no Muse.

Check it out here.

Creative Writing Energy: Tools to Access Your Higher-Creative Mind is the first in a series for authors from bestselling and award-winning authors, Kim Petersen and Catherine Evans.

Kim Petersen In Uncategorized

Recognising abuse in all its forms – by Kai Calvi.

Through this post, I am sharing my story in the hopes of educating others. Not only in recognizing abuse, but to also shed light on the help and resources available for victims of abuse.

My name is Kai. I am a 41-year-old mother of three beautiful sons. All of my life I have fallen victim to one form of abuse or another. Until quite literally, it took my world falling apart and finding myself and my three boys homeless for almost a year to actually recognize what was happening to me.

Even before I was born, I was at a massive disadvantage.

My father was a paedophile who before my birth had already interfered with my elder half siblings.

My mother had been abused as a child before she was handed into an arranged marriage at such an early age, that she didn’t even know what it meant to be a wife, a mother or a woman.

She had endured nine years of severe abuse from her much older Italian husband until she eventually escaped that situation only to fall into the clutches of my father who destroyed her world on a whole new level. As you can imagine, her harsh experiences had a significant impact on her, spilling over into forming her own psyche – making her very controlling and overbearing, and setting the bar for what my sisters and I were to deem as “Normal” in a relationship setting.

My saving grace was that I got to live with my grandparents for the first four years of my life, due to my mother having a break down. My grandparents were loving, stable, and kind, and they adored me – which became a memory that I clung to and gave me hope for the oncoming days of my life. There was a time when I had known love without control or abuse. Not only did I know that that kind of love existed, but at one stage in my life it was given freely and without condition.

Within this post, it is my intention to not only demonstrate the signs that you should be looking for when dealing with a narcissist and abuser, but to also bring light on the fact that abuse is not only limited to partners. It can be delivered at the hands of parents and siblings, co-workers, bosses or friends, and sometimes, sadly even children.

You can break the cycle.

It is important to recognize that a lifetime of being subjugated to abuse, does not mean you have to continue to live that way – yes, abusers have a way a sniffing out the vulnerable. And that is all it is – vulnerability due to subjugation. There is nothing wrong with you.
There is nothing about you which makes you deserving of this treatment.
It is NOT your Fault!
It is a matter of readjusting your thinking patterns to view yourself and your circumstances in a new light – retraining your mind to not only recognize the early signs of abuse, but also, to act early on.
Self-empowerment and education are key to rejecting an abusive life and not tolerating this kind of treatment from anyone, or in any form.

Let me just clarify that not all abusers demonstrate abusive behavior from a point of hatred or even wanting to hurt others. They tend to do so as a result of their experiences and conditions – learning these toxic practices through the trauma they have endured throughout their own lives.

It is not uncommon for an abuser to use these trigger points to manipulate situations and the people around them. It is a tool to get what they want. The fact is, most of us have been through hard times during our lives and learn to work through our pain without transferring those demons onto others.

I find that there is such a selfishness around holding onto hurt and using that pain as an excuse to justify our behavior. Yet, those that abuse others will often use their past as a tool that conveniently blinds them to the truth of their actions. Many times, they do not actually recognize what they are doing, and they will deftly alter the reality of a situation to support their delusions. This is when the familiar phrases of an abuser will occur:

“I’ve done nothing wrong”, which generally follows with an accusation, “you caused it”, “it’s all your fault” or my personal favorite, “you made me do it”.

My mother was the first to use this kind of manipulation on me and it wasn’t until the “big breakdown” of 2011 that I even began to recognize this. She would manipulate myself and my siblings by claiming that she would not be a part of our lives if we didn’t bend to her will. Which was shortly followed with her expressing her regret of having ever having children at all. She had negated us with her words with constant reminders of her disappointment in us, and she blamed us for everything. To her, we were at the core of her every problem; her every hardship; her every pain endured throughout her lifetime.

Can you guess how hearing those words from a mother impacts a child?

Guilty. Responsible. Worthlessness.

To the point that we felt so utterly responsible for the “horrible” state of her life that we would do anything she asked to keep her happy – and all at the expense of our own happiness. Including leaving relationships and the people in our lives that we loved to appease her, or ditching important obligations and plans to cater to her needs and wants.

Years later, homeless and living with a friend in Katoomba, I received counselling. These sessions were like a pinnacle of light for me, shining clarity over the cycle of abuse and helping me to understand toxic behavior.

I learned about how people like this have the ability to make you feel responsible for their survival. When in reality, they are extremely resourceful and will manipulate others into doing their bidding – until you discover the power of the word “NO”.

I was 32 years old before I used this for the first time.

My mother had turned myself and my three children out on the street when we had needed her the most – I had managed to escape an abusive relationship and we had nowhere to go. We’d been staying with a girlfriend temporarily, but had eventually overstayed our welcome – three young boys with a depressed mother doesn’t make for great house-guests. My mother was our last and only option, yet she turned us away to live on the street.

Her refusal to help me and my children cut to the bone; her words were like ice in my ears and a chisel through my heart.

What was I going to do? I was depressed and penniless with three boys and a car packed full of the only possessions we had left in this world.

How could I subject my boys to a life in a refuge after all we had just been through? After all I had done to get us out of an unhealthy environment at my mothers’ behest, I now had to shame myself further by asking for the help of strangers. I mean, who would want to help me if my own family wouldn’t?

It was failure that encompassed every part of my being – how much more of a failure could I be as a woman and a mother to further subject my children to these situations?

So, I hopped in my car and looked for some place suitable to park and sleep for the night. I drove through my childhood town with the underlying urge to get as far away from where my ex-partner was as possible, finding myself in the parking lot of my high school.

Security turned up and moved us along, but not before asking if we were living in the car and if we needed help. Of course, my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit to our perilous circumstances and I denied such a horrible assumption before moving on. For three days we wandered – cold, hungry, hopeless and not knowing where or how to ask for help.

I had hit my lowest point; I had become a single mother with no home and no relationship, and had spent the majority of my life having every small failure pointed out in grand fashion. I didn’t know there was any kindness in this world outside of that warm embrace and kind smile shown to a small child by her grandparents.

It was during this time that my mother called me – not to check to see if we were okay or to offer help, but to ask for me to research pay grades for my eldest sister. My loud and resounding “NO” resulted in my first ever panic attack, as well as the cold silence that followed from my mother lasting for a solid 18 months. You see, for the first time ever, I had dared not yield to her desires.

This “NO” felt as though it was the final blow to my already crumbling existence. What would I do without her help? How would I survive without my mother to tell me what to do next? And how on earth was I meant to make these decisions on my own? Clearly, I wasn’t any good at it – just looking at my current situation proved that point.

But there something else – that same singular “NO” started a snow ball reaction, and all from that one profound moment when I had chosen to put myself first instead of succumbing to my mother’s demands. Resisting her wishes changed me and the course of my future.

Left with no one to tell me what to do meant I had to find that inner-strength and make the hard decisions myself – for me and for my children. I dug deep and found a resilience I had not known existed; I got the help we needed in order to get us back on our feet and start again; I battled suicidal urges; feelings of worthlessness and my value as a mother… a woman … a human being.

It wasn’t easy. Each day I had to make the CHOICE to continue. And each day, I rang the life-line helpline to talk to people who kept me from slipping over the edge that loomed so dangerously close.

Those months were some of the scariest and challenging moments of my life, and it took every ounce of my inner-strength to get through – I found love, guidance and assurance in three very brave young men that stood by my side through the entire ordeal. They were my only reason for every step I took in the right direction, and they became my sole focus in striving to become a better person. My boys’ constant presence in my life drove me forward to eventually find a beacon of light at the end of the darkest of tunnels.

It was through the wonderful support of the refuge that we got the help we so desperately needed:

We were given a roof over our heads.
They provided us counselling.
They educated me on the cycle of abuse.
I learnt to trust and believe in myself again.
We were surrounded by supporting love.
We received financial help.

I cannot express gratitude enough for those days, for without having been homeless I would have quite easily slipped back into God knows how many more years of abuse. It took a lot of hard work and self-love to convince myself that I was worthy of love; of happiness. But I got there in the end, and so did my beautiful boys. And it was that one small word that had been the catalyst in flipping my world upside-down until it was righted again.

Nowadays, there are no more “red flags” in my life – there are only deal breakers, and with every beat of my heart I know without a doubt that:

I am worthy of being loved the way I love others.
I am worthy of happiness.
I am worthy of being treated with kindness.
I am worthy of acknowledgement.
I am worthy of respect.
I am worthy of honesty.
I am worthy of safety.
I am worthy of having a voice and expressing myself.
I am worthy of a drama-free life.
And asking for help does not make me weak.

I have learnt that no one has the right to:

Devalue me.
Make me question my sanity.
Put me down.
To project their behavior on me.
To be wary of those that feel the need to assure you they are good, genuine or kind.
To stand my ground against those who fabricate to win an argument.
That I will not be blamed for things that are not my fault.
That those who can’t take the time to listen, do not deserve to hear my voice.
That being mean “as a joke” is still being mean, despite the laughter.
That I will not tolerate threats or ultimatums.
That I will not be manipulated by using my friends, family, pets, lifestyle, or choices – I will not have someone triangulate a situation.
That I will not allow someone to put words in my mouth.
That if someone chooses to target my reputation as a means to control me that that is purely an opinion and those in my life that count should know better.
That no one has the right to break or damage my belongings.
All of the above are a form of ABUSE; above and beyond actual physical violence.

For the first time in my life, I am in a positive, loving and supportive relationship with a woman whom I am head over heels in love with. Who is deserving of my time, my love and every moment of my attention. Although the road to get here was broken and a lot of time was spent on paving the way, I realize that there are good people out there.

You are one of them.

I will continue to always show kindness and compassion to others, but I am now selective of who is worthy of the love I have to give. I hope my story has touched those who need it the most. Thank you for reading!

Helpful recourses in Australia:

1800 Respect Line 1800 737 732

Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800

62304036 2775492159189046 2041863637617868800 n

About Kai Calvi…

Kai is a mother of three sons. Holds Diplomas of Business as well as Interior Design and Decorating. Runs her own small design business whilst managing a Dental Surgery in Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs. Kai is an advocate of Mental Health awareness, Domestic Violence and Women’s rights, as well as being actively involved in the LGBTQI community.

~ Giving Voice to Real People.

Kim Petersen In memoir, Uncategorized, writing

Rock, Stars & Signs

david-calderon-973699-unsplash — Photo by David Calderón on Unsplash

“I’m part of you

You’re part of me

There’s nothing said

That cannot be undone”

– Lyrics from I’m Just a Man.

Songwriters: Michael Hutchence, Andrew Farriss

Michael Hutchence. In my opinion, he was one of the greatest rock stars of all time. Indeed, he was among the last true rock stars of his era, right up there with Bono, Billy Idol, Axel Rose and Mick Jagger. He possessed the right amount of magnetism, mystique and recklessness, and his stage presence was unbelievably dynamic. When he strutted out on that stage, the world became a faded memory, swallowed by the charismatic guy crooning a tune and seducing the crowd with the deliberate grind of his hips.

Qualities of a rock star.

Some say Michael was sex-on-a-stick. I couldn’t agree more. Somehow, that man had more sex appeal entwined around his little finger than Brad Pitt starring in Legends of the Fall.

Hold on a second, I’m recalling the female sighs drifting above the cinema during a screening of that flick and I’m thinking that might be a slight exaggeration. Regardless, the man wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality. He owned it and flaunted it accordingly.

Sigh.

He was definitely no prude. I think he must have appreciated the yin and yang between the sexes because let’s face it, he was never short on “yin” company, and he was probably smart enough to nurture those precious connections too.

Yin: the divine female principle of the universe.

Do you ever notice the signs the universe throws your way? Sometimes those signs can be subtle little hints to let you know you are on the right path. Other times, they’re like a freight train smacking you in the face till you laugh like a crazy person and yell at the cosmos to “just stop already”.

Recently, I drove my daughter to her boyfriend’s house before picking up some lunch at the local fish & chip shop. I was literally on the road for about twenty-five minutes during which time I saw “yin” five times.

Five times. What is that?

Maybe its some kind of cosmic prank. Either that, or I think there might be a sudden influx of “yin” infecting car number plates around here. Gets even better. I arrived home to find my other daughter had sketched a picture for me, and low and behold it was the Yin-Yang symbol.

I literally gasped when she waved in front of me.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Uh-yeah. It’s beautiful, pussycat.” Slight pause, then: “Why did you draw that?”

Eyes the color of the earth blink up at me with a shrug.

“Because I like it and I wanted to.”

Duh.

“Do you know what it means?”

Nose crinkle. Cherry lips twist. Eyes narrow over me.

“Nah. I just saw it on some paper in Ashy’s room and I liked it.”

Double duh.

Freight train effect going wild. Go figure. Perhaps Michael is in a position to better understand the motives of divine forces from the realm he currently occupies.

Hmm.

Besides Yin, Yang and all matters strange, whatever that X-factor quality is, Michael Hutchence had it nailed, and it wasn’t because of the way he looked either. It was much, much more than that.

I was fortunate enough to have met Michael after attending one of his shows one night. Before that evening, I’d spent the better part of my teenage years plastering the man over my walls and collecting every piece of media I could get my hands on to add to a chunky scrapbook I’d lovingly created.

Dreamy Sigh.

Yes, I was the hardcore fan, following him to every event I could, and cursing every woman he dated, Helena Christensen being the exception (Sorry Kylie!). During those hardcore years, I’d even managed a few phone conversations with him along the way.

But when the universe had finally decided it was time for our paths to collide in person, I was past the buckle-at-the-knees fangirl phase and had matured into a young woman who didn’t blink twice when brushing shoulders with celebrities (Clears throat and keeps writing). Or so I had thought. In my defence, the thoughts were valid because I wasn’t a stranger to spotting the odd celeb partying the night away in some VIP area of an Oxford Street Sydney club.

To make a short story even shorter, I completely caved when the moment of truth arrived and I was confronted by him. I could barely manage an audible hello much less answer his questions with anything remotely intelligent. Yep, I was suddenly drowning in a bad case of “fangirl syndrome”, and totally tongue-tied.

Erm. Awkward.

That’s a kind way of expressing those moments, but I do commend Michael for his efforts in lingering around, watching me with amusement and trying to engage me in some kind of rational conversation. It was just an epic fail, is all. The fact that he was trailed closely by a group of protective women frowning my way didn’t help the situation either. If looks could kill, I feel sure I wouldn’t have survived that night.

In any case, he was soon piled into the back of a minivan and whisked away with said women in tow, a victorious smile playing on each of their lips as they sashayed into the van after him. Eye roll. Heart plummet. I followed with a barrage of four-letter words as I watched the love of my teenage life slip into the night and vanish without so much as an autograph to my name.

Ah, the things we do. Or not do.

Michael Hutchence was a piece of gold. I learned he was special because although he possessed the above-mentioned rock star qualities, he was also very authentic. There were no airs and graces about him when he was faced with “fangirl fail” me, no traces of arrogance to his nature. In fact, every interaction I’d experienced with him was easy and real – even when I fell short in his presence. That’s what made this man so unique.

I’ll always be grateful for the major part Michael played during my teenage years. He and his band, INXS, provided the backdrop to many adventures, fuzzy fantasies and beautiful moments with treasured friends. I’d listen to him when the world fell from beneath my feet. I’d plug him in my Walkman and sing with him at the beach. He was there when I danced like crazy, and there during the awakening of love in my life. He was so much more than a rock star. He was a way of life, and he was some kind of special.

I write most of this post today, on January 22, 2019, on what would have been Michael’s fifty-ninth birthday. I’d always taken comfort knowing he was out there, walking the earth and doing his thing. Somehow, I’d formed an invisible connection with him that I’d cherished – along with thousands of other women (but who’s counting?). It was a sad day when the world lost him. My heart ached and I cried. He was the kind of man that isn’t easily forgotten. He was the kind that come here to make a difference in the world. Just listen to some of his lyrics and you’ll understand what I mean.

Every now and then, I still miss him. I find the times when I’m falling short, and feeling low are the moments I reach for my earbuds, switch on one of his songs, and submerge myself in his voice. It’s almost twenty-two years after his death and he still has the ability to comfort me.

Michael Hutchence was more than “Just a Man”, he was revolutionary, and the world could use more like him.

Life is fleeting and precious. Embrace your inner rock god and walk the earth with love while you can, and while you’re at it you’d do well to remember that life is not complete without seeing Dogs in Space.

Grin.

Do you have any memorable celebrity encounters or weird signs from the universe you’d like to share? I’d love to hear about it.

Thanks for reading!

Kim Petersen In Uncategorized

Dreamtime Stories: The Sacred World of Creative Energy

seven sisters reggie sulton — *Seven Sisters – A Dreaming Story*

Since the beginning of time storytelling has played a vital role in the evolution of humanity. It is no secret that storytelling originated through visual drawings, such as cave depictions and paintings, before shifting into oral traditions that passed down through the generations. It is through stories that we seek to learn about the world and the universe, and it also helps us understand relationships.

Dreamtime Stories

The Australian Aboriginal culture is one of the world’s oldest cultures. Throughout the ages, this magnificent race of indigenous people has used Dreamtime to help them better understand the natural and mystical elements of our world, their people and their culture, as well as their history. Aboriginal children are told early in life about the structured and detailed stories embellished with valuable lessons about their elders’ journeys and accomplishments. In turn, as their children grow into adults, passing the Dreamtime stories to the younger generations becomes their responsibility.

The Aborigines believed that Dreamtime was the very beginning, and that the land and the people were created by the spirits. They believe the spirits were responsible for creating all that exists, including their totems and their Dreaming.

Dreamtime stories are more than myths, legends or fables. These fascinating spiels are far from fairytales. They are the Aborigines’ accumulated knowledge, spirituality and wisdom. The storyteller’s role is really that of cultural educator, channeling their spiritual Dreaming, which is demonstrated through visual art, oral storytelling, dance and music, as well as totems and lore. Together they form an all-encompassing mystical whole – The Dreaming.

Spirituality and Story

Aboriginal spirituality is deeply linked to the land. This ancient race of earthly worshippers believe that all objects are living and share the same soul or spirit as the people. A feeling of oneness, interconnectedness and belonging rests at the core of their beliefs. They learn to see with their “inner-eye” and view the world through the lens of their souls – which means there is no sense of separateness between the material world and the sacred world of creative energy. These relationships and the knowledge of how they are interconnected are expressed through their sacred stories.

While stories have been used to articulate the experiences and tribulations of our earliest ancestors to guide, teach and inform, and have existed to provide cautionary warnings to their predecessors, it also through storytelling that we have searched for the sacred dimension of life. We need to be ceaselessly reminded of the authentic nature of our lives, and we need our artistic inspiration to propel and transform those energies within and between us into messages that will continue to uplift and influence the generations.

It is well-established that when we raise our level of vibration, we attract influences from higher realms. While we don’t know for certain where artistic inspiration originates, this wonderous resource is available to us all and is the cornerstone of all creation. This is not a vague, mystical conundrum as many might think. In fact, just as the ancient race of Aborigines have practiced seeing with their “inner-eye”, thus, connecting with the source of all creative energy to produce their sacred Dreamtime stories, similarly the higher realms are available to every human being.

It is at this higher level of the creative process that we become a transparent agent for another intelligence to pass through us. From this perspective, we receive fragments of intuitive revelations and become hosts to energies much larger than we are, originating from mysterious and spiritual realms. Simply put, God speaks to us through art; and I’m not necessarily talking about God in the sense of any identity espoused by religion, but that deepest sense of God in the formless existence of the eternal perfect.

All people of the world are offered this unique gift to increase our perspective of the human condition, and these insightful nuggets are often left behind in the form of works of art, including stories. The connotations of this phenomenon are significant. It is when artists reach into those higher realms to express deeper levels of the human experience that art transcends art and has the potential to help awaken something within us.

So, how as modern-day storytellers can we raise our vibrations and establish a connection to the higher realms and use those mystical currents to inform our own version of Dreamtime stories?

The answer lies in a time before our lives became a fast-track series of fleeting experiences and modern innovations – the past.

Dreamtime Story Tools

Ground yourself and connect with the earth

The Australian Aborigines believe in their connection to the land. Humans have always been in close contact with the earth, but our contemporary lifestyles have served to disconnect us from the earth’s energy, making us more vulnerable to stress and illness. The Aborigines use the earth to recover wellbeing. By doing so, they pay attention to all four dimensions of our being – mind, body, spirit and land.

Aboriginal beliefs tied to the earth have been reinforced through modern research. Dr. James Oschman, biophysicist and pioneer Earthing researcher, states: “The moment your foot touches the earth, your physiology changes. An immediate normalization begins, and an anti-inflammatory switch is turned on.”

Aside from the physiological benefits to get barefoot and dig your feet into the earth, connecting with earth’s energy reminds us of our connection to the creative source energy. When we can quieten our thoughts, feel and connect with the earth, we can harness that energy to propel us through the invisible doors to higher realms.

Live from the Heart

Aboriginal spirituality is so incredibly diverse, but at the heart of their spirituality is an emphasis on caring and sharing. Being kind to others significantly improves our lives. I am not just talking about a polite exchange of courteous behaviour here; I am talking about the real stuff. Being authentic in every facet of your life, to yourself and those lives you touch along the way, creates a ripple effect from the inside out.

When we express love for ourselves and others, we are demonstrating love for all of creation. Practicing kindness and appreciation raises our vibration to a higher level, allowing the divine, eternal currents to flow through to us.

Release Your Dream to the World

The world needs its artists. Your Dreaming through story is a gift to the world that has the potential to change and uplift lives. By raising your own vibration and embracing the mystical currents and allowing them to flow through you and into your stories, you are helping to transcend the human condition into magical realms.

Like electricity flowing through wire. Only the zap is a remedy.

It’s time for You to your raise your vibration!

Tips like this and so much more can be discovered in our upcoming release, Creative Writing Energy: Tools to Access Your Higher-Creative Mind, where you find a wide range of alternative methods and ideas that you can use to access your higher-creative mind and get those words flowing.

Creative Writing Energy: Tools to Access Your Higher-Creative Mind is the first in a series for authors from bestselling and award-winning authors, Kim Petersen and Catherine Evans.

Click here and be the first to get access to Creative Writing Energy: Tools to Access Your Higher-Creative Mind as soon as it’s released – plus, join our clan and you’ll get more than just a book – you’ll receive a weekly writing prompt in the form of a wonderful Oracle Card that we’re creating for authors as part of our series, and you’ll become part of a loving writing community interested in maximising your highest-creative potential!

Give us Break – it only took a zillion takes to get this far filming our first video… oh how we laughed!

Kim Petersen In Uncategorized

A Shamanic Soul Journey

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“Hey Kim, my other half is interested in attending this event. Wondering if it might interest you.”

A fast click on the link to check it out reveals a compelling headline: A Shamanic Journey and Drumming Circle. Truth be told, I didn’t need to dive in any deeper on this one. My usual tendency to procrastinate the pros and cons of deserting my comfortable lair in favor of stepping out into the big wide world took a backseat. I was in.

“Tell your other half she has a partner in crime,” I replied.

By other half, my friend and author Catherine Evans was referring to her pseudonym, Cate Ellink – her less subdued self. This is the part of herself that loves to explore strange phenomena and pushes back against the social norms. The same part of herself that I seem to energize. I must admit, I do have a knack of unleashing and fueling those underlying qualities in those closest to me. Go figure.

Maybe it is because I tend to view the world through the lens of acceptance. I have no interest in judging others, idle gossip or sifting through tedious social bullshit. I am the first to laugh at myself and do so often; I like to play too; especially when the game involves a worthy adversary – in the nicest sense, of course. Yep, overall, you could say that I Go with the Flow. I work at keeping the faith and trusting that the universe has my back even during the times when the reality appears to the contrary. And I love to ponder and explore the more mysterious side of life. Who doesn’t?

Yeah. Back to the drumming.

Honestly, given all I just divulged about my interest in mystic exploration, it isn’t a long shot to conclude that taking a Shamanic Drumming journey is right up my ally. Even though I had never drummed before.

“Don’t you just smack your hand down?” Cath responded when confronted with the above comment. “Rhythm. We have rhythm, don’t we?”

Well, yeah. I’ve got rhythm honey, but as far as I’m aware, rhythm tends to favour my hips and not the ability to chime on a musical instrument.

Hmm. I didn’t express those thoughts out loud. Instead, I shut my mouth and charged forth into unknown territory; the world of Shamanic Drumming and meditation.

Did you know that the medicine drum is a tool used for healing and transformation since ancient times? And that drumming has the power to synchronise brain hemispheres and create altered states of consciousness in which healing and wisdom from the higher self can be obtained?

We were anointed with pine oil and smudged with sage and other pungently burning incense. We were cleansed and balanced with some kind of spritzy concoction; we listened to our hosts talk about the moon’s energy and shedding old habits that no longer served us; and we each gave an offering back to humanity in the form of soft tobacco leaves and syrupy whispers.

They gave us a medicine drum; mine was of deer, Catherine’s, kangaroo. Turned out, we didn’t have to just smack our hands down and wing it. We had drum sticks to guide our… erm… rhythm.

Oh, and we found it! Maybe not right away, but when our hosts began the steady tempo and the sensual sounds of our hostess’ voice rose above the thick incense curling through the room; rhythm had not eluded us. In fact, it became our friend.

The beat seemed to seep into my being like a sacred mystery unravelling the invisible threads binding me. It was glorious and liberating, utterly beautiful, and it created a sense wellness within. Sometimes, all it takes is an unexpected moment to arrive to show us what we didn’t realize we needed. I hadn’t realized that I needed to merge with the beat of a drum and fuse with the sacred energy accompanying us in the room that night. And I certainly didn’t realize that I needed to join hands in a circle made up of like-minded strangers and express my wishes for the greater good of humanity. It was like soul therapy.

After which, I felt renewed and energized. Were you aware that rhythm is a primordial vibration that pulses through our bodies with the beating of our hearts? Yep, consider the following quote:

“Ancient sources tell us that the frame drum was not just a powerful symbol of spiritual presence, it was an important tool for many spiritual experiences. Priestesses of the goddess were skilled technicians in its uses. They knew which rhythms quickened the life in freshly planted seeds, which facilitated childbirth and which induced ecstatic trance of spiritual transcendence. Guided by drum beats, these sacred drummers could alter their consciousness at will, travelling through the three worlds of the goddess: the heavens, the earth and the underworld.”

~ Layne Redmond

They spoke about our connection to the land and the universe, and how most of us are living beneath a veil of ignorance; and how the ideals and beliefs of humanity have turned upside down. The need to get back to our roots and remember the truth of who we really are is becoming imperative if we wish to see change in the world.

I agree. I guess that’s why I found myself in a dimly-lit area breathing incense, smelling like pine oil and gazing in wonder at the oh-so-interesting altar-mat splayed mid-center of the room and adorned with totems.

We sat upon blanketed mats with pillows and listened to words of ancient practices and beliefs surrounding the Bone Dance. Syllables strung together to form sentences fell upon my ears and swirled around my euphoric mind – the concept of shedding the outer layers and becoming a skeleton resonated someplace deep within me. The notion being that beneath our fleshy exteriors, our material-based desires, and our personalities, we are all mirrored. Take it all away and we’re left alike; an identical process of bones.

Have you ever meditated to the sound of the drum with interluding bouts of the didgeridoo? D – d- did you do-do?

Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I hadn’t either. Admittedly, I’m not used to participating in group meditation, preferring the solitude of my own soft and quiet space when practicing stilling the mind. But there was something extremely transformative, uplifting and moving about tuning my senses into those soulful beats, that I almost forgot how hard the floor was becoming beneath my butt. Almost.

Okay, I might have to work on that part of the whole Shamanic Drumming journey experience.

All in all, the night far exceeded the expectations I actually didn’t have. It began with a picnic beneath the stars and great conversation, and ended on a naturally induced high – the likes of which cannot be achieved without transporting your spirit to the higher-realms where mysteries abound and dreams are for the taking.

Shamanic Drumming was more than just a meditative journey. It was a soul journey and I can’t wait to do it again.

Kim Petersen In Uncategorized

The Girl Can Shine

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“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” – Jack Canfield

I used to be afraid of so many things. When I was a child, I was scared of growing up and facing a life without my parents. I was afraid of the Easter Bunny and the milkman, and the thought of death had my head spinning in a thousand directions. Most of all, I was afraid of being myself. I never knew who I really was beneath the fleshy exterior and the questionable outfits my mother dressed me in. I was super self-conscious, and I couldn’t quite figure out my place in the world. The only place I felt comfortable was in the inner sanctuary of my mind.

Insecurity is a strange thing to ponder. Where does it spring from? How does it cultivate and flourish even under pleasant living conditions? My early childhood home was a safe and loving environment. Both of my parents are wonderful people, and my mother worked on strengthening my self-perception. Yet, no matter what she did or said, there was a constant underlying feeling of inadequacy shadowing my every waking moment. I felt awkward and self-conscious almost all the time – to the point that I was crippled on the inside. I had allowed those self-deprecating emotions to squander many opportunities throughout my early adulthood, which played a massive role in accepting the mistreatment of others.

I was around seven years old when my parents took me and my little brother one weekend to visit family friends who lived in Sydney’s north shores. If you’re familiar with Sydney, you’ll know those beautiful northern beaches and suburbs are populated with the spectacular homes reserved for the wealthy and famous. As it happened, one of my mother’s girlfriends had recently married a lovely man with ready-made kids, a seriously humongous mansion on the north shore, and a rather well-oiled, erratic mental disorder – and we, the nuclear family from the southern burbs, were lugging up for a weekend to experience how the other half lived.

I must be honest here, I was pumped. I mean, the moment I laid eyes on that outrageously big home, my breath caught somewhere in my lungs and my heart thundered in wonder. I know when you’re that age everything seems bigger than what it really is, but I can tell you that that home was set back among lofty trees and overlooked a lush valley leading to the water, and it was the most beautiful home I’d ever seen.

The interior of the manor was four levels of wonderment. The plush piled rooms were spacious, the kitchen and bathrooms were shiny and modern, and the Barbie-lookalike girl of the house slept beneath an elaborate weave of lace on the biggest bed I’d ever seen. Well, for a child’s standards anyhow.

She looked like a character straight out of one of my Golden Books, and even had a romantic name – Krystal – and I swear, when she clasped her delicate fingers around mine and rushed me toward her bedroom, I froze at the threshold and blinked – had I suddenly been pulled through a rabbit hole and emerged between the pages of a Golden Book?

As I gazed around the candy-colored room brimming with the latest gadgets, a huge doll house and all the toys under the rainbow, I decided I had. I wasn’t aware that other little girls slept beneath draping sheer fabric other than in the movies and my books. I had to be in a fairy tale – there was no other explanation.

Considering that up until that moment I had shared a rather small room with my little brother, you can understand how that possibility was a viable option for me.

After I managed to pull myself from the initial reaction to Krystal’s room, I allowed her to entice me further into her lair. She was excited to show me all her wonderful things, and I was eager to see them. Yet as she moved around the vast pink room with her chest puffed, her golden hair flowing down her back and her baby blues peering from a china-doll face, something else began to happen – me.

This stunning little creature with cherry-colored rosettes for lips and the glossiest blonde hair I’d seen outside of my Barbie doll collection had me enthralled. The thick carpet beneath my feet seemed to suck me further into its twisted pile and my entire body shifted into something extremely awkward as it dawned on me that this was a fairy tale and she was a real-life princess.

So, what did that make me?

Erm. Well, I’m going with the ugly duckling analogy here because that’s exactly how I felt. Better that than the wicked stepmother.

This lovely princess was confident and pretty, and she didn’t seem to second guess herself. She didn’t have to as this was a girl who appeared to have it all. She glided around the carpet like a swan skimming the calm blue ocean, gracefully flicking her hair when she laughed. And she laughed a lot. Turned out, she was a killer on the dance floor too – I know this because our parents took us out for dinner to a club that had a dance competition on the Saturday night and forced us kids to get on stage and boogie.

She won, by the way. Surprise, surprise.

The point is that this china-doll was everything I was not. She was perfect. I spent most of the weekend shrinking on the inside while my insecurities burned like a wildfire. If I could tell my younger self anything, I would remind her to love herself just a bit more than what she did, and I would tell her not to be afraid to shine. Because, at the end the day, that’s what insecurities boil down to – lack of self-love and self-belief.

I keep banners around my house. These are wonderful wise snippets shared from the likes of the Dalai Lama, native American beliefs and other ancient spiritual teachings. They’re everywhere. They’re in the kitchen, my office, the loo, my bedroom … I even have one hanging in my closet. I am someone that needs to constantly remind myself of the bigger picture, as I can become overwhelmed with life at times, and I know how easy it can be to slip back into old thinking patterns – those childhood feelings of inadequacy are never really that far below the surface.

One of my favorites is from Nelson Mandela when he talks about fear. Part of the quote is as follows:

“It is our light not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are we not to be?”

I love these words, and I realize now that playing small doesn’t serve the world, and that shrinking into the darkness and dimming my light doesn’t benefit me and won’t enrich my life. I won’t grow and flourish by continuing to doubt myself and think small.

I have come a long way since that little “ugly duckling” plagued with insecurities, and it didn’t come easy to reach the point where I am now. I had to deliberately set out to adjust my inner-perspectives and practice a bucket load of intentional change in my thought patterns, but over the years I’ve been able to tame the self-doubts and insecurities to something manageable.

Do I always get it right? Nope. But each time I feel that wobble, the one that says, “Who do you think you are to be doing what you’re doing?”, I take a few breaths and remind myself that a life lived in fear is a life half lived, and then I keep going, pushing myself to take the chances; putting myself out there in ways I could never have imagined, telling people how I really feel and baring my soul to the world. I do this because I am here to experience, expand, evolve and love like crazy. Why hold back when time is not on your side?

We are born on the leading edge of creation. We are born to shine. No matter how deep I must dig to find the courage to keep reaching for more, I’ll do it, because I am no longer that “ugly duckling” shrinking with insecurities and succumbing to the fear; I am the swan skimming over the surface of the calm, blue ocean.

So, the next time you feel that fear-wobble circling down your spine and threatening to overcome you, remember that everything you want is on the other side of fear, and consider these words from Nelson Mandela: “As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

You too are a magnificent swan – and the ocean is your playground. Play with me.

Kim Petersen In Uncategorized

Transcend Through Story: Unlock Your Imagination

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“Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

~ Albert Einstein

Every now and then, I am drawn into another realm, a wonderous and boundless kingdom where the only factor limiting the possibilities is the scope of my thoughts. I don’t need to go anywhere physically to enter this other world. I could be sitting on my outdoor lounge beneath the sun, or at the beach digging in the sand with my children as they play near the shore. I could even be punching the letters on my keyboard, just as I did when producing this article. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing, I always have access to this rich and magical endowment that I can channel anytime and anywhere I choose – my imagination.

Our imagination is one of the greatest gifts we are given and it is as intertwined with the beautiful mystery of life as the certainty of the sun rising at dawn tomorrow. We can’t touch it or taste it, and we can’t hear it or smell it. There are no scientific analytics or mathematical formulas to support its existence, yet we all know it’s there – the invisible thoughts lifting us up and transporting us to other places.

It is imagination that forms the cornerstone of ingenuity. It is essential for the continued evolution of humanity and it is the foundation of all creation.

In his series of texts in The marriage of Heaven and Hell, the 18^th century intuitive poet William Blake made this wry comment: “What is now proved was once only imagin’d.” As you consider the simplicity of these words of wisdom and allow them to seep into your essence, your imagination will begin to kick into action.

Take a look around. Everything you see and all you experience with your physical senses emerged from somebody else’s imagination. For something to exist in this world, it must first be anchored firmly into your imagination. Without this perpetual resource, life becomes stifled and creativity is halted.

During his lifetime, Blake was largely considered an outlier for the mystical undercurrents expressed through his creativity – and that’s a nice way of putting it. Yet Blake is now recognized as a seminal figure in the history of poetry for his rich symbolism that embraces imagination as “human existence itself”.

However, William Blake wasn’t alone in his radically insightful views. Throughout the ages, virtually all spiritual teachings speak of the power of imagination; and that invisible formless realm has been bestowed upon you as your birthright.

Our lives today mostly encompass a combination of fast-moving experiences strung together by a series of innovative moments playing out on the leading edge of existence. These are exciting times where revolution appears commonplace, in the form of the technology infiltrating every field from fast food to finances. We’re closer together yet further apart thanks to the internet, and each generation contends with profound social, economic and technological transformations.

A fast-track life with the world at your fingertips can often mean a ceaseless internal merry-go-round spinning around the edges of your soul. It can be overwhelming and stressful, and sometimes we lose sight of the important stuff like love, sacred connections and that beautiful essence peering out from behind your cagey eyeballs.

So, while you’re taking that look around at everything that was once in someone else’s imagination, ask yourself if you’ve neglected your own. Have you left it at the threshold of adulthood to gather the dust of the passing years? Or perhaps your deadlines have highjacked it along with your mortgage repayments.

Maybe. Maybe not.

No one could blame you if you have temporarily misplaced your wild imagination. We are in an age swamped with selfies and Instagram, little Tweets here, and bigger Tweets there. Did someone mention Snapchat? Yeah, I just heard the teenager throw me some backchat.

What’s new?

Your entire life is probably now chronicled on Facebook and you just must keep up with the latest cat memes and viral diarrhea – right?

You’ll also need to remember to pay your bills on time, feed your kids after dance class, follow the rules, and for heaven’s sake – who let out the damned cat? Catch a little Netflix before bed. You may manage something more, if you last that long, because you’re so tired working your butt off to meet the responsibilities that are mounting up somewhere around your hairline, that you feel like your brain will begin to emulsify through your ears.

Meanwhile, you have convinced yourself that it’s completely normal for your eight-year-old to watch adults play with Kinder Surprise toys and Frozen figurines on YouTube just so you can grab a quick five minutes alone and gather your whirling thoughts.

Okay. I might be exaggerating a little. Maybe that scenario doesn’t exactly apply to all of us, or all the time. The point is, most of us are so busy, our childlike imagery often becomes a distant memory we seldom entertain, excluding those Kinder Surprise-playing-grown-ups on YouTube, of course.

In his wonderful book, Wishes Fulfilled, Wayne Dyer says, “Today, quantum physics confirms the universe is made up of formless (spirit) energy, and that particles (that is, things) do not originate from particles.” Meaning everything springs from something akin to your imagination.

Everything.

Think about that for a moment. I bet while contemplating those words something deep within you recognizes the truth. It certainly gets my inner-bells chiming, especially when considering this observation made by the father of quantum physics, Max Plank: “Science cannot solve the ultimate mystery of nature. And that is because, in the last analysis, we ourselves are part of nature and, therefore, part of the mystery that we are trying to solve.”

I don’t know about you, but when I first read those words something unfurled and soared through my being at the realization that science cannot take us through the doors of the divine, no matter how hard we knock. The truth is we are as mysterious and beautiful as life itself, and the power of creation is within all of us. It’s within the places you choose to take your thoughts, and the ideas that seemingly spring from nowhere. And it lives, thrives and breathes through our stories.

Beneath my author name that appears on the banner on my website is the tagline “stories that transcend”. I chose that phrase because I believe story is the perfect instrument in which to nurture the endless creativity of imagination, and I believe it is through story that we can help make the world a better place.

It is particularly true that through fantasy and paranormal storytelling that authors can transport readers to other worlds brimming with magical wonders and spectacular ideas – stories born through the creative forces of imagination that provide an outlet to escape from the demands of modern life as we begin to consider the “what if?”.

Yet, as we ponder the magnificence of stories and imagination, and the escapism they provide to our busy lives, there’s something more at play here. It’s a golden opportunity to snatch back those moments when you dressed up in your favorite super-hero costume and flung yourself off the garage roof; or to reclaim those times when you lost yourself in a world of make-believe that felt so real, you couldn’t quite figure out the difference between the parallel realities. Nor did you want to.

So, as you turn the pages of a great fantasy, paranormal romance or sci-fi book and immerse yourself in the characters, a tiny spark ignites the dormant embers of your own imagination, in turn reminding you of your own childlike imagery.

Then something happens – the story ends.

Once you’ve read the last line and your fleeting visit to a fictional world has come to an end, you’re often confronted with the reality of your life. The enchanting tendrils of fantasy begin to fade as the weight of the “real world” sets in. Too soon does the inspiration of a great story merge with the internal merry-go-round until it’s lost somewhere in the gray matter of your brain.

But what if you chose to hold on to that feeling? What if you internalized it just a little longer until you have convinced yourself for a few magnificent moments that anything is possible? And what if you danced with the galaxy twinkling beneath your rational thoughts till your essence soared like the inner-child playing make-believe?

Reading the words strung together to form a story created by someone else’s imagination, unknowingly gives us permission to unleash our own. But it’s when we really take the time to ponder this greatest of gifts that we realize the limitless possibilities that abound in us.

Through the mystical chords of imagination, story will help save the world. It is through transcending beyond your daily responsibilities and releasing your imagination that you will expand and enrich your own life.

Imagine that?

Kim Petersen In Author spotlight, Uncategorized

Becoming Whole with Catherine Evans

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I was a child of the ’80s and grew up with a firm understanding of rules and boundaries and what those restrictions meant to my life. Breaking the rules had consequences I’d rather avoid. I didn’t want my mouth rinsed out with soap, so I didn’t use curse words. I didn’t want to see the hard end of a wooden spoon, so I didn’t chat back to my mother. And I definitely didn’t want to miss out on dessert, so I ate what was put in front of me at dinner time … most of the time. Swallowing and choking on brussels sprouts just wasn’t worth the sweet stuff. Sorry, ma.

Adolescence hit with a hefty side of rebellion. I was that girl – you know, the one that seemed to have all the bright ideas about pushing the boundaries. My geography teacher disliked me so much, she spent parent-teacher night bitching about me to my aunt who had turned up to discuss my cousins academic progress. That went down well. The phone line was red-hot that evening. Maybe I should have thought twice before slicking the teacher’s chair with superglue and darting wet paper bullets through straws all over her classroom.

Hmm. No comment.

Once I passed those rebellious teenage years and emerged into adulthood, I realized the rules for adults were slightly less forgiving and accompanied with much higher stakes. The government want to meet their revenue quota. I don’t want to help them achieve that. I don’t want to go to prison either.

I’m still a rebel at heart. I’m a risk taker, a visionary; a dreamer. I’ll take that leap and bound full-force into unknown territory – even when it terrifies me. For me, life isn’t about conforming or pleasing other people. I’m considerate, compassionate and sympathetic, but being subservient to those traits won’t allow me to shine. Loving and honoring the people in my life doesn’t mean that I have to deny that which lights me up on the inside.

This is how I’m wired. This is why I’m finding that I’m meeting new people that feel and share similar qualities as me – likeminded souls that run full pelt into love and care less about the opinions of others; deep thinkers unashamed of who they are or what they want out of life.

Those rules – the ones that are written, the ones that are not – still exist. We know them and live by them even when we question them. Without them, havoc would reign supreme. Or would it?

Catherine Evans has a vision to change the world.

Sound familiar?

It should because you’re here too and so is your legacy. Changing the world sounds like a momentous task, but I’m going to tell you that it’s not. It begins with the small stuff. It begins with you and me, and the choices we make daily. If every one of us can deliberately compel ourselves to accept all love, kindness, faith and hope, and reject all suffering, sorrow and depression, then perhaps that is how we begin to change the world – from the inside out.

Catherine Evans wants to become whole. She wants to do what lights her up inside and make a difference in the world. I am proud to call her my friend as much as I am proud to introduce her to you.

Meet Catherine

I write under two pen names, which in some ways is good because it allows readers to find the books they want to read (or more correctly, avoid the books they hate). But there’s a part of me that’s saddened by this.

Let me give you a brief summary of me. I’m the eldest child, born into a conservative Catholic family. I am an introvert who avoids conflict, a rebel who doesn’t understand societal rules and strictures. There are two sayings that resonate with me. One is – “Learn the rules properly so you know how to break them.” It hung on my office door for years. It’s one of my beliefs.

For me, the introvert avoiding conflict doesn’t go well with a rebel. My rebellions have been rather small and personal. For example, I rarely wear dresses or make-up, and have no clue about fashion. I have long hair that’s not dyed and going gray. I worked in science where most of my colleagues were men. I had sex before marriage. I have no kids. I gave up religion. I kept my surname after marriage – and if it wasn’t for my husband’s strongly held belief in marriage, I would not be married.

I hate labels, categories, boxes, systems, rote, generalizations, and rules. I hate mindless following.

I love deep thinking and deep discussions, especially where you disagree but keep talking to find out why. I love challenging myself and my thinking.

When I started to write for publication, I didn’t realize that books had genres and subgenres and that these had rules. How I didn’t know this is quite amazing because I had read books all my life. In my defense, I submit that I read widely without caring about the genre. The only option is that the book is interesting. Libraries are set up so the non-fiction is categorized by topic, but fiction is just alphabetical order. To me, that means story books are story books.

Not so. I had to learn what box I wanted to write in when I didn’t believe in boxes. I went with romance because I found Romance Writers of Australia who offered help and feedback online. When I narrowed it down to romance, I thought I was right, but no. I learned that I wrote cross-subgenres, which made it hard to market your book.

By this stage, it was doing my head in. My stories didn’t fit into niches. I hated niches.

While I was writing rural romance incorrectly, I realized I could write erotica and there were far fewer rules with that. When I wrote about sex, and included swearing [cursing], and was thinking about publishing this, my family were appalled. They asked me not to use my name; not to tell anyone; to hide this side of me.

I became two writing personalities.

Over the past eight years I have realized that all the little rebellious parts of me have become Cate Ellink. The parts of me that conformed to my family/society wishes have remained with Catherine Evans.

I bloody love Cate Ellink. She’s written smoking hot sex. She lusts after footy players and dreams happy stories. She unashamedly explores fetishes, taboos, spirituality. She questions her thinking about society norms. She wants to change the world. Keeping quiet and fitting in is not really doing it for me anymore. I’m getting to the point where I need to become whole. I’m of the age where I really don’t give a damn about others’ opinions, and we need change in the world before it’s a catastrophe for humankind.

It’s difficult to buck the system. It’s even harder to stand strong when people belittle and ridicule you. I’ve been incredibly lucky to have readers and writers who don’t care what I write, they just accept me. That’s been such a strength to me, allowing me to think I need to be whole outside of this reading/writing world.

Now Kim is tempting me into the paranormal. It’s not somewhere Catherine or Cate has gone before, and yet I love reading paranormal and my belief is in the paranormal. When I write in that subgenre, I won’t be able to manage three distinct personalities. I’m going to have to join all my parts together, allowing the different names to distinguish which part of my mind you’re comfortable reading! But I’ll be me, Catherine, Cate and whoever else I write as. It’s as exciting as it is daunting.

Do you have any tips for me?

Find Catherine:

Website | Twitter | Amazon | Facebook

Kim Petersen In Uncategorized, writing

The Truth about Love, Sexuality & Creativity

“It is passion, more passion and that we need. The moralist who bans passion is not of our time; his place these many years is with the dead. For we know what happens in a world when those who ban passion have triumphed. When love is suppressed, hate takes place. It is passion and ever more passion that we need if we are to undo the work of hate.”

~ Havelock Ellis

Photo by Josh Felise on Unsplash

I used to be a little girl with a little room filled with nothing particularly girly. There were no pink mermaid curtains draping the windows nor were there white frills adorning the bed covers. I loved climbing trees, riding bikes and erecting forts on top of the carport roof with my younger brother. Wrestling matches were fun too, till one of us was hurt enough to scream blue murder. I’ll be honest, a lot of time that person was my brother. Those were the times when the fun turned sour and I shot dagger-eyes and mouthed terrible things that made him go crying to our mother.

Tsk. Mamma’s boy.

Oh, brothers! There’s a whole lot to say about growing up with a little brother shadowing your every move. Almost three years separate my brother and me, and once upon a time he used to be smaller than me. But you know what? His lack of height had never stood in the way of his ingrained sense of protectiveness for me. He was loyal and courageous, and his love was fierce. I had seen that kid take on the meanest beefcakes in the name of love for me, and I always had his back too.

Although I would not have dreamed of admitting it at the time, my brother was my best friend, and for the most part, I adored hanging out with him. We spent hours creating new adventures and exploring uncharted territory as children. But sometimes, I had to retreat to a place of my own and turn my back on his pouting lips to leave him to his Matchbox cars. I had to shut the door to our room and delve into a world where he was not welcome or permitted. It was the delicate world of dolls.

Yes, dolls. Barbie dolls to be exact. I kept a bag beneath my bed filled with loads of Barbie dolls, one Ken doll, an assortment of accessories, and the biggest kicker of all – a Michael Jackson doll.

Every now and then, I needed to explore the soft feminine urges of the little girl I was and unleash my imagination with a focus on love. Romantic love. You know, the kind of love that springs from your fluttering heart and inevitably results in the happily-ever-after? It is the type of love that captures your breath and steals your soul. It wraps around every cell in your body till you can’t imagine a future without that person.

When you think about it, it is not so unusual that we begin to probe and delve into the beautiful mystery of love from such a young age, because it is love that governs your greater-self, your deeper-self. It is the part of you that connects you to all of creation, and this isn’t something you can ever know intellectually; you can only feel and be aware of it.

Our view of the world is usually less tainted as children. Those magical years when our imagination knows no restrictions are also the years when our memories are the strongest, and our perceptions are most pure. Somehow, we innately realize the knowledge that we are more than the flesh and blood peering back at us when we gaze into the mirror; we know that it is love from which we were born, and love that builds our whole existence.

Then time kicks in. The years pass and we settle into the dense 3D reality of our physical existence. We’re bombarded with societal rules and restrictions, beliefs and religions, fear, hate and worldwide threats breeding the rancid contempt in the bellies of our leaders and spilling into the population. It is greed, materialism, brutality and murder, and the ever-present outcries of injustice constantly influencing and informing our worldview.

The veil thickens and the invisible barriers are firmly placed around our lives, leading to those moments when we forget who we really are. They are the same moments we get to choose if want to continue living beneath the cloak of ignorance or embark on a journey back to the real stuff.

From time to time the curtain will lift to reveal a glimpse of the eternal source gracing all that is. It’s in those moments when you gaze from a mountain peak and your being soars with the beauty filling your essence; or those silent times when your soul lifts higher and you’re encapsulated with a sense of unconditional love; or even a simple gesture from a stranger that touches your heart in a way you hadn’t expected. However, most of all, it’s in the relationships we experience with other people.

In her book, A Return to Love, Marianne Williamson says, “In every relationship, in every moment, we teach each other love or fear.”

It is in demonstrating love toward others that we learn how to love more deeply. In exhibiting fear, we learn to be more frightened of life.

There exists one underlying force that connects us through our entire life. Despite the negative circumstances I mentioned above, humanity strives toward that feeling whether we realize it or not. It forms the basis in each one of our thoughts, interactions and tasks, it informs the words we utter and the way in which we see ourselves – Love.

Bold, fearless, glorious love.

It is love that forms the groundwork of most of our literature, art, music and drama, and love that has given birth to the endless inhibitions that humanity imposes on a false attitude toward sexuality – the most important expression of mankind. Sex is really life expressing love.

Love or fear?

You choose.

“In this relation between a man and a woman, in the sexual act, is expressed the complete physical, psychic, and spiritual hunger of being for another. No other activity or expression of mankind provides such a total outlet for love as the sex act.”

~ U.S Andersen.

When contemplating that statement, it’s easy to recognize how little sex is understood, and how abused, particularly when we consider how readily available sex has become in our virtual worlds. We live in an age where voyeuristic perversions are fostered by the exploitation of sex. The overexposure of sex has had a significant impact on changes in our sexual behaviors and continues to influence our younger generations.

At the other end of the spectrum we face the age-old taboos and condemnation surrounding the sex act. This is when people get touchy and uncomfortable about sex, but how could such a natural and wondrous part of being human become saddled with shame, ridicule and immoral ordinance?

When love is present, there is no such thing.

Love is the recognition of our true selves – the motivation for unity and the desire for fusion. It’s no wonder our stories are brimming with tales about love and romance. Even those authors who claim not to write romance are really writing some of the greatest love stories of all because it is love that flows from them and into their words; and love and passion, fueled with imagination, that embodies their creativity.

I believe every human is a creative. Every human can manifest and love; every being is ultimately cut from the same divine cloth. It’s the golden threads that weave your heart and soul together and bond you with the universal energy – that brilliant light shining resiliently from behind every negative thought and experience that lets you know you are loved.

Love and creativity are one and the same. Love is the source of creativity.

Through all our experiences – the good and the bad – there is one profound and complicated sentiment that remains a universal thirst. One element is instinctual to our nature that is continuously streaming through the veil that blinds us from the truth. It is the invisible link driving us to a common basis – love and sexuality.

When I was a little girl, my dolls fell in love in the stories I created for them. Now that I’m a woman, my characters fall in love through the stories I create for them. I fall in love every day through story, my beautiful interactions with people, sacred soul connections I cherish, gratitude and the simple pleasures of life.

Love is more than a word on a page or a choice; love is fundamental to being human, and you cannot evolve, thrive and appreciate without it.

It is through our divinity that we are created by the source of love. It is through our humanity we learn how to express, give and receive love in our physicality.

When we look past the taboos, the abuse, and the exploitation of sex, and nestle down and really search ourselves within, we can acknowledge and celebrate the magnificence of sexuality and all its forms of expression. In his wonderful book Three Magic Words, U.S. Andersen articulates this perfectly when he states, “The end of the sex act is not procreation – it is the expression of love!”

Free yourself. Love yourself. Express yourself.