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personalgrowth - Kim Petersen

Is Giving Up An option?

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Some days I just want to pack it all in. I could do that. I could choose to walk away from the world of writing and publishing and grab a “normal” job with a dependable source of income. It is a real option; a path diverting from a journey begun a few years ago exists, and one that I’ve discussed with author friends who have toyed with similar thoughts. But is it really an option? And when do you know when it’s time to call it a day?

From the start, I made many mistakes that have accumulated into thousands of lost dollars. I wrote my first book, Millie’s Angel, without adhering to any one firm genre, resulting in “a little bit of this and a little bit of that” kind of novel. Which might work if you’re someone like Norah Jones, but I wasn’t someone like that. I’m still not someone like that.

It didn’t matter that that title attracted an award or a whole bunch of five-star reviews from reputable review services (that I’d paid for). It didn’t matter that I went ahead and invested a whole bunch of my savings into promoting the book because at the end of the day, I’d screwed up my target audience – and this was before I could get them to actually buy the book. I had totally failed on the original cover too.

It was a beautiful, award-winning cover created by a talented artist. I shelled out a good chunk of coin for the creation and I loved it. Turned out, I could love it till the end of rainbows and back, but that fact didn’t move the book into the right hands and generate sales.

The universe has a way of throwing the right people on your path when you need them. Think about it; there are billions of people in the world doing their thing – how is it not orchestrated by some stroke of higher intelligence when you encounter the important ones? The ones meant to touch your life in some way … for a particular reason.

He might blush when working on these words before you see them, but my editor Paul Vander Loos is a part of an intimate body of people to have influenced my creative world. I learned a ton early on during his work on Millie. He went above and beyond to clean up that first manuscript when most editors would have thrown it back at me in disgust.

Not Paul. He rolled up his sleeves and got down and dirty with my words, and probably wanted to throw me off a cliff on more than one occasion. When it was all done and delivered, I could barely believe how much patience this man must have possessed to have persevered through my manuscript. The lessons were invaluable, the appreciation more than he could ever realize.    

I’m probably going to regret telling you this, but I was so wet-behind-the-ears and excited when releasing Millie, that I went ahead and made the DUMBEST decision ever and hired a publicist. Yes. As I write these words, I can still feel the sting of that one.

I invested about a thousand dollars without much of a result in return. She snagged me one radio appearance and an article in a magazine about balancing writing with a big family. She had wanted to use my background in domestic abuse as a publicity angle; a fact that didn’t sit well with me (but I went with it anyway). When a few of the bigger magazines sniffed around for my story, they had to bolt when they discovered I’d never chosen to press charges against my ex-husband.

It wasn’t long before I realized that brand new, unknown fiction authors do not need publicists. Unless they have a surplus budget and money to burn. I didn’t.

Not all was lost, though, because it was through that publicist that I was introduced to a lovely woman who would become one of my most solid author friends to date, Beth Prentice.

Beth knew more than me. I found myself engaged in weekly phone conversations, picking her brain about the industry and spending hours talking shop. It was through Beth that I’d learned the ropes that had eluded me, and, in the process, I discovered a true friend. She gave me the encouragement I needed to keep going, keep writing and keep believing in myself. As dumb as it was, I’d pay that publicist again in a heartbeat for Beth.

I then started to wrap my head around the industry a little more. It was enough to write my follow-up title to genre, deciding to hinge the series on the most prominent genre to flavor my first book: paranormal romance. Despite falling short on the original cover, the book fared well and attracted great reviews from readers, making an even deeper niche when I revamped the cover art some months later.

That’s another thing that had stumped me in the beginning – who were my readers, how do I find them, and most importantly, how do I keep them engaged between releases?

It started out pretty cheesy. I did what I saw most other authors were doing with their newsletters, delivering the generic style email every other week or so. I organized dozens of swaps, signed up for author cross-promotions, newsletter builders, author giveaways.

I thought that if I didn’t have something like the above-mentioned options to offer my readers, then I didn’t have an email to send. The problem with that is that your emails become ordinary pretty fast.

Since releasing those first two books, I’ve gone on to work with some wonderful people, collaborate and learn from some of the best in the Indie publishing industry, make a couple of strong connections and publish more titles. Yet, it wasn’t until recently that I really began to grow into myself as an author, and as a woman. I’ve discovered a part of myself I never knew was missing.

There is something about creating stories that strengthens your inner world. It’s like a journey of self-discovery and self-realization. Our deepest truths seem to spill onto the page through our stories, creating more than just a fictional tale, but a personal learning experience that fosters insight and growth.  

I currently have two completed manuscripts in a series banked on the hard drive and ready to go; the third underway (well, somewhat). I find myself caught in the “undecided” zone with this series, unsure about which way is best to let it fly. That’s the thing about this game; sometimes it’s hard to know which way to roll the dice – the place where we circle back to the question: do I keep going and invest more into the books or do I call it quits?

My readers, the ones that have stuck around, still receive my fortnightly emails. Only, these days I rarely offer them other book deals or giveaway opportunities. I’m offering them something different; something they can’t get in a builder-giveaway or another book sale lighting up their screen. I’m offering more of me.

As a result, I’ve weeded out the “easily offended” and stuffy variety of readers as well as the ones hanging around for the freebie or 99 cent deals, managing to forge an authentic relationship with others. This is despite offering them little in the way of new release fiction for the duration of 2019. I figure these readers are the ones I want around for the long haul, the ones that like who I am behind the shiny book covers and deals.

I had no idea if consistently creating newsletters without the offers would work, but I’ve found that approaching my readers in this way continues to pay off. I can feel their loyalty, their interest in the content I’m delivering to their inbox and their support through their responses.

Hopefully, when I’ve reached a place where I can breathe long enough to make a solid decision about what to do with my new series, these folks will be just as interested in the fiction I have to offer them. And all being well, I’ll arrive at a place where I no longer question if I’m on the right path, because writing has become a large part of who I am and I can’t imagine a life without creating books.

I guess I just answered the question most of us writers periodically ask themselves: is giving up really an option?

It’s not if you stay true to yourself, do what you are passionate about and honor your soul.   

The Whisper

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Intuition is the whisper of the soul.” – J. Krishnamurti

I’ve heard it many times throughout my life; that inner voice whispering through my soul and guiding me forth as I’ve stumbled along my life path. Every day we’re faced with choices; sometimes, the decisions we need to make are crucial to the way our paths unfold. Other times, the choices are much simpler. All of the time, though, there is an unseen part of you and me that has no motive other than to love and guide us through our physical experience here on the earth plane, and that presence ultimately wants the best for us and our soul growth – the higher self.

Hold on a second, I know what you’re thinking – but before you go jumping to conclusions, I’m not planning to conduct a lesson in spirituality here. That’s not my gig. I’m no Wayne Dyer or Matt Kahn, although I have enjoyed their teachings. I’m no self-proclaimed guru, or Zen master either. That’s not me. My intention is to create a place I can share my thoughts and perspectives. Some I’ve gathered through my experiences in the external world, and some I’ve learned from the eternal space we find within ourselves – the great silence. Besides, it’s my belief that spirituality is very personal and something that needs to be experienced in order to understand.

Now, where was I?

Oh yeah, the higher self of yourself. The beautiful presence that stalks you like a shadow you just can’t shake. That all-knowing, all-encompassing part of you that connects you to all things, including source energy. Actually, it’s the essence of source energy, and if you understand that notion, then you’ll understand what Neville Goddard and U.S. Andersen meant when they wrote “You are god.” Or indeed, how powerful and symbolic the words “I am” are.

It doesn’t matter whether you acknowledge this pure part of yourself as it’s there regardless. How you choose to use that higher guidance is entirely your decision. Have I always listened to my inner self? No. The truth is, it has taken me many years to learn how to cultivate and nurture a relationship with this invisible part of myself and to arrive at a point where I am comfortable enough to trust it. Can you imagine how many more years it has taken for me to gather enough nerve to even write about this stuff?

Lots and lots.

I can think of many instances when I’ve listened to that inner voice, even before I was self-aware enough to really grasp the reality of those rich inner layers. Of course, there’s been plenty of occasions when I’ve chosen to ignore my inner guidance system too.

I’m going to touch on one of the times when I actually listened before I had gained enough insight and awareness about myself; the section of my life when I lived beneath the veil of ignorance. I was about eighteen years old and in the middle of a turbulent relationship (young love – you got to love it). It was a late Saturday night and my boyfriend had thrown me from the comfort of his ride and left me alone on a dark Sydney suburban street. It was punishment for standing up for myself. This guy was sweet at times but he could be a real hot-head.

I had two choices. I could walk the half-hour it would take to get home, which meant negotiating the Rockdale station overpass, or, I could go to the house nearby of my friend’s boyfriend, who I’ll call Grant, and ask for a ride home. Since a young woman meandering around Rockdale station alone at night wasn’t considered safe, I went with the latter option. I was no dummy, no way was I going to risk a late-night stroll over that station on my own. That was rape-bait behaviour, so it was a no-brainer. Besides, I knew my girlfriend was with him that night and she would look out for me.

The decision was made, and I set off towards the house. Now, before I get to the part where I arrived at Grant’s place, I need to back up a little and explain that Grant happened to have a little room at the back of his home and separate from the main house. Grant had recently allowed one of his old mates to occupy the room, which I’d frequented often with my group of friends. His mate, who was much older than the rest of us, had recently been released from a jail stint and had now taken up residence in our hang-out room.

I had met Grant’s friend numerous times while always in the company of my boyfriend and friends. He seemed okay, but in all honesty, he wasn’t someone I’d felt entirely comfortable around. That fact wasn’t all that foreign to me, though, because seldom did I feel comfortable around people I didn’t know.

Grant shared the main house with his ageing grandfather. Whenever our tribe would hang out at Grant’s place, it was this back room that we’d pile into and sit around and listen to music or watch movies. A rather serious looking Pitbull terrier lived there too, and I remember being a little concerned about entering the backyard alone with this dog on guard.

The point is that I had never been in the main house, and I wouldn’t dare dream of imposing on Grant’s grandfather, especially at that time of the night. Therefore, it had to be the back room. However, when I’d arrived at Grant’s house, I noticed his car wasn’t parked in the usual spot outside on the street. Hmm. What to do? I didn’t really think too hard about it at the time; it was late, cold, and I was tired. So, I decided to see if Grant’s friend was still up. He had a car, and he was nice enough. He might even drive me home, or in the very least, I’d have somewhere warm to wait for Grant and my friend to get back home, right?


So, there I was, in the dark, creaking open the side gate that would lead along the narrow path towards the back room. The Pitbull turned out to be okay with my intrusion. She knew who I was and allowed me access to the premises without a fuss. She trotted alongside me as I snaked along the path and emerged into the backyard where I was confronted by the shadowy walls of the blackened back room and the sound of light snoring.

I did what any eighteen-year-old would do in my situation; I acted without thinking. I began to knock on the window of the back room and softly call the guy’s name. It was very possible I’d considered this man was a member of my tribe, considering he seemed to always be around us of late. I’m pretty sure that was the driving thought. I trusted my friends, and Grant vouched for this guy. So, why start distrusting now?

A rustle sounded from the other side of the window; a slight movement accompanied by a mumble broke through the snoring, and it was at that precise moment that I froze on the spot while an overwhelming tingle zapped up my spine and whirled through my mind. My inner self was screaming at me to stop what I was doing. The message was unmistakable – keep knocking and I would find myself in a world of trouble. A clear warning to retreat.

For some reason, I didn’t second guess myself that night. I listened.

My heart pounded as I quietly retraced my steps, bid the dog farewell and crossed over the creaking gate threshold. I emerged back onto the street where I sat on the brick fence outside Grant’s home and waited for him and my girlfriend to arrive. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long in the cold, and I eventually got my ride home safely.

It would be a long time before I pondered the feelings that hit me that night. At the time, the moment passed and I got where I needed to be, and I didn’t take the time to acknowledge the significant message my intuition provided. Yet, there was no mistaking that inner voice warning me to stop knocking on that window. It was strong and precise, and it gripped my senses with a loud alarm that I couldn’t ignore.

I can’t predict what might’ve happened had I awoken that man, and I shudder to contemplate how it could have played out for me. Somehow, I know that something much higher than myself was looking out for me that night – a guiding presence that sought to protect me, and I chose to listen; and for that, I give my eternal gratitude. How blessed are we to have access to the wonderous tools of intuitive guidance? If only more of us would tune into the beautiful sanctuary within us and take our cues from that divine source, I’m certain this world could reach astonishing heights in evolution. There I go doing the dreamer thing again.

I love you, John Lennon 😉

To the Wonder – Aqualung
Listen with the ears of your soul.

Recognising abuse in all its forms – by Kai Calvi.

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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

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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.

Rooms for the Memory – What’s it Really About Anyway?

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rooms for the memory whats it really about anyway audiofile
Rooms For the Memory – What’s it Really About Anyway?
Audio-file. Listen to me read this post!

I will never forget the final months of my step-father’s life, nor the day I got the call summoning my presence because there was something urgent that he and my mother needed to tell me. I didn’t hesitate that day. Instead, I blew off the words of the project I’d been working on and drove the short distance to my folk’s place who live in the next town. All the while, my stomach churned and my nerves fluttered. Somehow, I knew before I arrived that it was cancer.

We hear about it all the time, people dying of cancer. In Australia, cancer is the leading cause of death. Still, nothing can prepare you when it reaches so close to home. I had lost a beloved uncle to cancer years before, but I wasn’t around to witness those horrendous end days. I got the call to come and say goodbye that final day, but by the time I had arrived at the hospital he was gone. I’d missed him by fifteen minutes and it tore me apart on the inside.

It was different with my dad. I was closer to him and it was me that he sought when he wanted to talk about death. For all the beliefs and spiritual teachings I had devoured and practiced over the years, I found myself struggling for the right words to say to him. What do you say when someone you love is dying? What words can you offer without sounding like a Taoist scroll banner?

What did I really know about death anyway?

My mother is the eternal optimist. She couldn’t or wouldn’t allow herself to accept that he was dying – right up until the day I told her that it was time to call my sister, my aunt and cousin to say their goodbyes. I remember the expression on her face when she heard me say those words; the shock as realization dawned. In those moments, the tables had turned. I had become her rock and her carer. There was no return. The fight was almost over, and I knew she had one foot in reality and the other in disbelief.   

It was Friday afternoon, he was incoherent, dazed, and he couldn’t walk unassisted. Their home had been transformed into something that resembled a medical centre. He hadn’t wanted to spend his last days in a hospital, palliative care turned up every few hours to administer morphine and check in on him and my mother.

By that time, there were no more words to tell him except ones of love and surrender. Those last hours were like a living nightmare. Nobody tells you what its like at the end of a cancer battle. Nobody tells you how watching someone you love writhe and grasp onto the final threads of life kills you on the inside. Stubborn man. Right up till the end, and it was his love for my mother that kept him hanging on. He’d been so worried about her life after his death that he tried so hard to stay for her. For her. Even though he was no longer afraid of death.

I’d whispered in his ear and told him that she would be okay, that we would all look after her, that it was okay for him leave now. We all told him.

From Friday afternoon, he fought as hard as I’d ever seen anyone fight. He fought for love. I couldn’t stay with him and my mother the entire time, but my sister and her husband did. I tag-teamed with my husband because we have young children, but even from my home a few miles away, his presence was all around me.

February 18th, 2018 was a beautiful summer Sunday morning. I’d been with them till late the night before, and my husband wanted to be there too. So, I turned to my writing to fill in my mind as I impatiently waited for him to return so I could get back over there. I was working on Rebellion when the call came. He’d gone without me. He wasn’t supposed to leave without me there. But he did, and I didn’t get to hear him take another breath, or whisper in his ear one last time.

He left and the day was gloriously blue and hollow.

He left and my life has never been the same. It’s when the profound moments arrive that we realise life stops for nothing and no one. The same moments when we know our human mortality in its truest form and acknowledge how fleeting our life on this earth really is, and how final death seems when you can no longer pick up the phone and call your dad.

My mother had wanted to dress him before the funeral. She wanted nobody else but me to accompany her. I watched as she shaved him, spoke softly to him while stroking his face and kissing him as she placed his favourite beanie on his head and fixed his shirt. I stood in the corner of the room fidgeting and feeling numb. He didn’t seem real to me anymore – he was empty and frozen, and he was just gone. I couldn’t relate to him in that way because it was no longer him.

I’d felt the distinct difference of his soul no longer occupying his body. His body was just that; a soulless carcass that no longer represented my father. I knew I could get closer to him in other ways because I felt him all around us. Those feelings made me feel awkward during the dressing, I was relieved when it was over and I couldn’t get out of there quick enough.

A few years ago, my step-father and mother stayed with us for a few days. Those were the days when they’d lived interstate and travelled around Australia a lot of the time. One evening, we sat beneath the stars after dinner and chatted over a few drinks and music. That night he’d told me that a day will come in the future when he was dead and gone that I would remember that night with fond memories and a smile. That I would think of the wise words he so readily bestowed on me and remember him.

We didn’t always see things the same way. We disagreed quite often. He was a fatherless man that strived and struggled to provide the guidance of a father, and he was interested in my work and life as a writer. He’d written and published a book himself. Watching me do my writing thing made him proud.

Although I’d pushed his words aside that night, it turns out that he was right – I do recall that night with a smile in my heart, and not because of the guidance he tried to provide, but because of the love he had always shown me.

I have realized that even in death, he has continued to teach me. Nothing ever before has had such an impact on my life. In death, he has taught me that love is eternal; that it really does transcend time and space, and that the way we love in this lifetime matters.

There are a few people in this world who I love but are not currently in my life. People that I have shared time with, loved from the moment we met and haven’t stopped loving them since. If this is it – if this is all I have to let them know that I still care, then every one of these words matters as much as the love that exists within me.

If this moment is all we have, I’ll bubble it with precious love and push it out into the universe and hope they receive it because the way we love matters. And whether those people realize it or not, my love matters too.        

Changing Life Chapters – it’s Easy to Resist Change.

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“Love is friendship set on fire.”

~ Jeremy Taylor

What lights you up inside?

Have you ever looked back and imagined your entire life as chapters of a book? And that each chapter began with an inciting incident that eventually led to a critical point that became that one moment when you stood at a crossroads? You remember that one – the time when you knew your decision would determine the way your life would unfold over the months and years to follow.

Of course, we experience more than one of those pivotal moments during a lifetime. It’s how it’s meant to be; how we grow and evolve as individuals and as a species. Besides, life would fast become mundane if we were not periodically presented with new possibilities. It’s as if the universe peels back to reveal a crack every now and then – a sliver wide enough to illuminate a path brimming with alternative prospects of a different life.

Our bellies may flutter as we peek through the doors of a mysterious future. We might slide on our dark shades to peer into the uncharted hours of a life spreading before us like the light of the moon trailing across the ocean’s surface. Thinking … pondering … mulling over the would-be path while we analyse and sift through the possibilities until we decide whether to embrace something different or stay put and play it safe.

Sometimes, it might be a work opportunity or a crazy idea that entails a certain amount of risk. Other times, it might be more personal life choices like love and relationships where the stakes are raised high enough to warrant a vault pole if we decide to take a leap of faith. Whatever the moment is, one thing you can count on is that it will usually show up when you least expect it.

It’s easy to resist change. After all, the future is unpredictable and uncertain. No one can really foretell what the future holds; freewill takes care of that. Gifted psychics and mediums can only take you so far. Their visions are always confined by a higher order. In other words, those intelligent beings existing in the higher realms looking out for you will only allow you to uncover so much about the future. The rest is left solely to your own discovery in order to strengthen your personal growth and life lessons.

Makes sense. If we knew without a doubt the events yet to unfold, how would we really be able to relish those moments as we experience them? We wouldn’t, and that’s the beautiful mystery of life – to be present and participate fully; to feel and resonate with our emotions as our paths wind through rocky waters and soar at wonderous heights, and to anchor ourselves in the present while keeping a firm vision of our ambitions and desires in our mind’s eye.

And this is why the present is all-powerful, because the present is all we have to ground our feet in deep and practice assuming that our desires are fulfilled before we leap into the future. Does this not excite you as it does me? That your dreams and aspirations, desires and hunger to create are as real as you want them to be; as real as the power you decide to extend to them. The energy will always go where it is directed so direct it wisely.

I love the way Neville Goddard expresses this notion in his book The Power of Awareness when he states, “All transformation begins with an intense burning desire to be transformed. You must want to be different before you can begin to change yourself. Then you must make your future dream a present fact. You do this by assuming the feeling of your wish fulfilled.”

We can’t stop change from happening. Even when we think nothing is changing, it always is. The invisible wheels are always shifting in the background of our lives. We change even when we don’t want to change – physically and emotionally, our circumstances, environment and relationships. So, if our lives are always changing, why not embrace the all-powerful present to manipulate your future into your most burning desires?

If we’re being honest here, it is through our relationships that offer us the most value on the everchanging wheel-deal. This is where things can get tricky when thinking about our future, but without those rich and transformative experiences relationships provide, we cannot reach our full emotional potential as evolving human beings.

We are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends and lovers. We wear many hats for many different people. Each relationship has its own authentic current pertaining to the two individuals involved; each provides layers and experiences that enrich our lives in some way, even when we are confronted by conflict within those connections. Yet, of all the relationships we experience, it is through the ones we connect with at the heart that really shape and cultivate our lives – the ones that burn like an exquisite flame to light us up on the inside.

Have you ever felt your breath thin and your heart explode when confronted by that special someone? Or told someone that they were the best part of your day and meant every word?

Love. Messy, scary, exciting, beautiful love. Everyone experiences it differently, and each time it happens, it is never the same as the time before. Anyone that has experienced it knows it is the best feeling ever. Love is like a rainbow; even when it’s not returned, it is still filled with glorious colors that shade your heart with beauty. Love is never wrong. Never. But the thing about love is that it is subjective and intangible, and it’s different for us all.

It can grow and flourish, making us feel smitten, crazy happy and utterly delirious with all things wonderful. And sometimes, it can take a turn and produce the opposite effects – it can sour and hinder your happiness, clip your wings and make you sad. Sometimes, love just runs its course for the length it takes for that relationship to reach its full potential. This is when the two in question become passive within the connection; when they no longer challenge and fuel one another at the deep levels required in order to continue evolving and learning from the union.

I know this situation well. We probably all have at some point or another. Remember earlier when I mentioned imagining the everchanging sections of our lives like chapters of a book? Here’s the super-short version of one long chapter in my life, and it all started with a guy…

Love was the inciting incident. I fell in love with a guy I had known during my childhood years. He reappeared into my life like a lovely blonde vision with a cute smile and a gentle demeanor, and every part of me succumbed to his blue-eyed, boyish charm. Yep, I totally melted while my heart sang and other parts went wildly crazy. It wasn’t long before he took me to the beach, produced a diamond and asked for my hand in marriage. Truth be told, it scared the bejesus out of me. I was 21 years old with plans to travel and see the world before thinking about marriage. But he was so damned vulnerable and sincere in that moment that I couldn’t bear the thought of turning him down.

My bad.

The usual entailed; we set out to make a life together. We moved around a bit until eventually buying a house, cars and furniture; a cat came along … then children. Travel emerged too. We cruised the south Pacific, visiting cool places like Vanuatu, Fiji and New Caledonia. We flew to New Zealand to spend time with his Kiwi family, and he bought me stuff – lots of stuff. I was buried beneath so much stuff, I didn’t know what to do with it.


Progressive complications are … well … complicated. Not all things are what they appear to be. Come to think of it, most things aren’t what they appear to be. On the outside we appeared to be the perfect family. Lots of stuff and travel makes for a convincing veil. Yet there is truth to that old saying about what happens behind closed doors. You know those kinds of people that don’t possess the ability to recognize their own toxic behavior and the effects it has on others? They are the worst kinds of bullies because you cannot reason with them no matter how much you try.

I tried hard.

For many years I over-stayed my welcome in a marriage with thoughts of making it work. I was really kidding myself, but we’re all pretty good at that, right? The idea of change was terrifying. There was our jointly owned home to consider, combined assets and finances, and of course, the cat and the children.

Life happens…

The months turned into years and more years, and I knew in my core that that relationship could no longer serve me in the ways I yearned to be served. The connection had faltered, waned and had become a shadow of the beginning. I longed to be able to connect at a meaningful level; needed to relate and expand in ways that he was unable to reach – through soul, spirit, intellect. Which naturally spills over into producing the ultimate bedroom experiences, by the way.


We all do the best with what we have and what we are capable of in the moment. It took me a while to realize that he wasn’t capable of taking a hard look at himself and readjusting accordingly at that time in his life. But these were my lessons too, and I strongly believe that we never get more than what we can take.

I took a lot, and lots of stuff doesn’t come close to filling the void within.

This really was nobody’s fault. He was physically and emotionally abusive, controlling, and extremely difficult to live with. Yet, that was his hang up; his own demons that would become his undoing. In the early years before we had children, there were times when he would lock me in our apartment before he’d go to work his night shift. He would lock me in there with no way out, only to return home and demand to inspect my nether region.

Was it fresh, plump and pink this day? Or had it taken a serving?

God forbid had I decided to serve myself while the cat was away. Have you ever been subjected to that line of questioning as someone has their nose buried between your legs with a microscope in hand?

“Uh-hum, it appears you are somewhat swollen.” Dark frown raises with suspicion. “Who’s been here?”

“Huh? Are you out of your mind?”

Yeah, someone was losing it and I’m certain it was me. He actually didn’t have a microscope, but considering the amount of effort he put into these inspections, he may as well have. Besides feeling utterly violated at such a derogatory treatment, I had no idea how he thought another man could get in. Too bad if the building caught fire too. I would’ve been toast.

The Crisis eventually arrived in the form of suffocation. Over the years our relationship had disintegrated to the point of disparity and existed for the sake of familiarity, the vows we had taken and the children we had created. Discordance dominated the connection; the pages in our book were verging on an entirely different series. Emptiness replaced the meaningful exchanges and delicious intimacy we had once thrived on – and yes, that was there in the beginning. But intimacy and connecting had become something of the past and I needed more for myself, and yet, I buried that internal need to grow for the longest of times.

The universe offered a crack. I had a choice.

If I continued to play it safe, I would be better off financially and the children would not have to endure the reality of a broken home. Stay and I wouldn’t have to endure hardship or raise three children alone; stay and I would remain miserable and oppressed, and in doing so, I would inevitably deny myself of my own truth.

Climaxes are not always earth-shatteringly exquisite, but they always bring change. I’m not certain what finally broke the final piece of resistance, but suddenly, something clicked inside of me – I couldn’t deny what I needed and craved in order to nourish my soul. It was then that I began the change by anchoring myself in the present and daring to see my life differently; a life that he had spent years trying to convince me that I was too weak to create.

 So, one day when he was condemning and criticizing me, I looked him in the eye and told him that he could try as hard as he liked but he would NEVER break me. Then I did it – I made the first moves to make a change that I had thought was nearly impossible.

He wasn’t an easy man to escape. Those who thrive on controlling women never are. He even threw things at me as I held my terrified two-year-old and stuffed my belongings in boxes as I prepared to shift myself and my children out of there.

Resolutions are like a breath of fresh air asthe new normal settles in your bones. I had resisted change because I was afraid of the unknown, but it was when I peeked through the crack the universe had provided for long enough that I believed that I was able to place my faith in an uncharted future. It was either that or continue on the same path that wasn’t lighting me up on the inside. And that is what it comes down to – knowing when to embrace the mysteries of an unmapped future and when to play it safe.

The future is there regardless. Playing it safe and hiding from exciting opportunities or unbridled passion, or just a change for the better might be terrifying, but it won’t enrich your life in the same ways that owning your truth will. We are here to carve our notch on the surface of time. If we don’t write our chapters with our authentic selves, then we cheat ourselves more than anyone.

It’s like being faced with a field of blooming daisies and the universe cracks open to present you a rare wildflower. Picking the wildflower could be risky and exhilarating, but it could mean the beginning of the next chapter in your life if you are but game and brave enough to pluck the stem from the universe and step into the uncharted future.

The Girl Can Shine


“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.

The Twin Flame Soul Connection – Part Three – The Awakening


Love makes the impossible, possible.” – Xavier Eastenbrick.

Xavier, the way you have expressed the depth of your experience is unbelievably authentic and moving – thank you for sharing your inner-most feelings with us. I think it is those souls seeking the answers and in need of knowledge that will innately gravitate to and discover your words here, because although the Twin Flame journey is truly sacred, the connection can also be extremely confusing at times.

You have told us about the awakened or Spiritual Twin, and how it is for their benefit to focus on their own soul growth rather than attempting to chase or initiate union with their Matrix Twin. What advice, if any would you give to the Matrix Twin – the one feeling uncomfortable with the intensity and nature of the connection?


I appreciate being given the opportunity to address your questions in this setting. In doing so, I hope by sharing my experience it helps those reading it as much as it helps me writing it. All too often, people try to keep their spiritual selves bottled up and locked away for fear of being ridiculed or ostracized. Perhaps this is why people can feel crazy on this journey. To put it into perspective, you may find more understanding and empathy talking about addiction than you do talking about the Twin Flame journey. No one would call someone addicted to drugs “crazy” – but as soon as you start talking about your soul being split and sharing existence with another human being for the purpose of breaking limitations and shattering the obstacles to love, and by doing so expanding the breadth of unconditional love – people tend to think you have lost your mind.

What I attempt to do through my writing, is to organize my Twin Flame experiences and relate them to circumstances others can identify with; therefore I gain a more grounded understanding that I can share with others. Figuratively speaking, I take a bowl of spaghetti and comb it out. The path is daunting for so many reasons; not the least of which is the fact that the normal and typical Twin Flame process begins by experiences which occur without having learned the information ahead of time.

What I mean is that we learn to walk and then call it walking. Then, you realize you aren’t walking but dancing, and not just dancing but waltzing. And then, that penultimate moment arrives when you realize you’ve been dancing with someone you didn’t even know was there. If you are on the Twin Flame journey, that sentence makes perfect sense to you.


Before I awakened or knew anything of substance about Twin Flames, I suppose I was living a normal life. I am not employed in any spiritual occupation or business. The experiences I have had led me toward a certain path and body of wisdom. While much of the information I read about Twin Flames resonated with me, there were aspects of the journey I felt compelled to add to the discussion: I was able to provide a much-needed perspective on this often-complicated connection. That’s the beauty of spirituality. You can be anyone or anything; a carpenter; a merchant; a fisherman; an attorney – or whatever, and still have something significant to add to the conversation about spirituality.

What I write about is based upon all that I have experienced, learned through my mistakes, as well as learning from others who have provided their written guidance. I combine the knowledge I have gathered along the way with these golden nuggets, my own education gained through schooling and through life, as well as a healthy respect for both religion, spirituality and science to inform what has resulted in the culmination of my knowledge surrounding Twin Flames.


Can you explain how someone would know if they are in fact a Twin Flame incarnated simultaneously with their counterpart? Is there a magic flag that waves above your twin’s head when you first encounter them?


Discovering my Twin Flame was part of my spiritual awakening process, which occurred a few years after I came to know her. From the moment I spoke with her, I was drawn to her. What she inspired within me was an incredible explosion of creativity and life-changing momentum. In the beginning, while I knew nothing about Twin Flames, somehow I knew she was extraordinary and meeting her would be the line of demarcation between who I was and who I would become.

For the purpose of context, my journey began long ago and without it being identified with the term, Twin Flame. Growing up, I felt always odd, out of place and felt an unidentifiable sense of incompleteness. I suffered from depression and threw myself into creative projects as a way to channel my emotions. In most of what I drew or wrote, there was an overarching theme of duality. It was something that persisted in everything I did. In fact, when I was a teenager, I remember a psychologist asked me: “If you were to draw a portrait of yourself, what would it look like?” My answer was: “I would have to draw two portraits.”

At the time of my awakening, I was going through serious problems which I didn’t want to talk about for reasons I won’t explain here. The thrust of them were internalized stressors which built up and I was caught in a feedback-loop problem; perseveration, poor reaction; depression. Repeat. The essence of it was that I was living an inauthentic life and it was catching up to me, tormenting my soul. I was able to mask my abysmal self-esteem with a pleasant smile and outward confidence. If you interacted with me, I was outwardly normal. Inside I was a wreck of self-loathing and nearing the bottom of the proverbial barrel.

I began to learn more and more about crystals because of a creative passion – which was inspired by my Twin Flame and then, I began to incorporate them into my life. I was drawn to certain crystals and felt their vibration. On the day of my awakening, which happened to be my Twin Flame’s birthday, I was alone at home and meditating in an attempt to calm my mind. At this point, the stress feedback was the thought equivalent of a cacophony of out of tune instruments.

Weeks before I had read articles about music attuned to 432hz – a frequency known as Verdi’s A and is mathematically consistent with the Universe. The American Federation of Musicians adopted the 440hz standard for pitch and most music uses that frequency.

I figured if I am going to connect with the universe, I may as well use its frequency. Accordingly, I placed certain crystals over specific chakras and played the 432hz music. I tried to silence the stress in my mind with positive imagery. For some reason, the image of a large majestic oak tree with golden luminescent leaves and branches popped into my head. I was sitting beneath the tree and it felt so right to be there. I was almost at peace but somehow, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be alone. That sense of incompleteness remained.

I began to imagine the closest people in my life with me under the tree. Each time nothing felt different. Then, I imagined her with me under the tree; the woman who I would later understand to be my Twin Flame and suddenly, everything changed.

Immediately, the lucid dream shifted. It was as if I [my energy] was pulled into a worm hole, deep in space. The scene was surreal yet authentic, and I can still describe the stunning stars, colors and galaxies I saw before my eyes and in the distance. In retrospect, while it seemed like only my energy, it is more accurate to say “our” energy, because I know it would not have been possible without her being a part of the imagery experience.

I felt a sense of wholeness I had not previously known. Our energy was propelled into deep space and continued to expand outwardly. I ceased to feel my body at all and lost the ability to comprehend my individual self. I felt all of my emotions evaporate and incredibly, I didn’t love any particular person. An overwhelming rush of pure love for all things took hold within me. It was unconditional love; dependent upon nothing and no one, and it encompassed the entire universe. I let go and surrendered, and ultimately became fully conscious of my soul and all it connects to.

After a while, I felt the turmoil in my mind ease and suddenly, as if called back to my physical self, I felt the weight of my body and the familiar sense-of-self drift back into my awareness again. When I awoke and looked at my surroundings, everything I saw emanated with an aura for a few minutes.

As you might expect, it took me a while to unpack this surreal experience and figure it all out. Almost immediately, I began to see the synchronicities relating to twin soul incarnations – especially 11:11, as well as the rest of the number sequences. I kept feeling a gentle nudge to investigate the numbers I was seeing until I understood what they meant. I furiously read all about synchronicities and one of them mentioned the term, Twin Flames.

Number sequences specific to the Twin Flame phenomena

Numbers can play a major role when the universe is communicating with you. All you have to do it look out and be aware of the signs. The universe will never fail to provide signs, symbols and synchronicities. Often, the synchronicities take the form of repeating numbers and there are numbers significant to the Twin Flame journey.

In my case, I observe triple repeating numbers and palindromes. I also notice 1010, 1111, 1212, 121, 222, as well as other sequences involving the outer number reflecting the inner number. As part of my Twin Flame research, I discovered that the number 11 is prevalent.

[For more information about guiding numbers relating to the Twin Flame journey, check out Gangsta Goddess; Tribe & Twin Flame Program.]

I had vaguely heard about Twin Flames in the past, but never read too much about the concept. I thought it was just some fancy phrase for a “soulmate”. However, the more I read and researched about Twin Flames, the more I was able to recall details which completely fit with who I would ultimately recognize as my twin. Each sign and synchronicity I see and feel now inevitably relates to her. And although she is unawakened, each divine trail the universe reveals to me leads back to her; and only her. When I recall our past discussions, the way we interact, then separated before finding each other again, it all fits the established Twin Flame connection. Through meditation and inner-work, I connect to her higher-self on a regular basis and I am able to sense her thoughts and emotions.

She is unaware of our connection and I will not be the one to tell her because she has to discover that knowledge on her own, if at all. That is one of the frustrating realities of this journey; there are no shortcuts and information cannot be served. It must be found and experienced.

In the beginning, it was difficult to navigate the connection and I quickly became the chaser, but I eventually understood the futility of it, so I chose to surrender.

In surrendering, I found peace in the form of knowing that divine timing will bring us together when it is right, if at all. And I’m at peace with fates ultimate hard reality; that this may not be the lifetime in which we reunite. What keeps me from delving into bouts of depression is my core belief and mantra: Love makes the impossible, possible.


Recognizing your Twin Flame is a matter of “knowing”. It is a core sense; a strange sense which emanates from the soul. It is as if your insides were reading a book, suddenly looked up and saw your Twin Flame. It is what many call the feeling of being “home”. The knowing occurs after the encounter and might not happen immediately. Once the knowing happens, the war begins between your brain and your heart.


The typical path usually occurs in this sequence: initial encounter, a sense of heightened awareness for your counterpart that leads to “knowing”, and then, information which confirms the connection. The encounter can and usually does occur without knowing and the knowing isn’t necessarily instant. This process can take a while to happen, but when it does happen, it is as if your soul clicks into place like a machine with giant gears releasing an immense sphere that rolls down a slide to a perfectly fitting hole.


Both the brain and heart can agree on processing the encounter with your Twin Flame, but it is the knowing part that is an extraordinarily difficult concept for the mind to reconcile. You typically do not register the person as your “Twin Flame” during the initial encounter. To your brain and heart, they may simply be another person. When the knowing finally hits you, it goes against everything rational about your identity as a single mortal life because your Twin Flame isn’t just some love at first sight interest; they are much more than that. This is the person who encapsulates the same soul as yourself – they are literally your eternal soul in front of you.

Some mistake a strong love or a soul connection with a Twin Flame. This is not because they are ignorant, but because they may have learned about Twin Flames prior to encountering who they believe to be their Twin Flame. But when the connection is true and one or both counterparts arrive at “knowing”, there is no mistaking it. This is why those who have some knowledge about Twin Flames generally suggest to others NOT to seek out information or attempt to learn about Twin Flames unless you are on the path.


In an effort to protect you, your brain will fight you at every turn and doubt almost everything. It is like white blood cells that begin attacking healthy tissue because the autoimmune system mistakes it for a disease. Your brain is framed by your ego and because Twin Flames are primarily spiritual, it is mostly contrary to what your ego accepts as reality.

For example, your ego has little problem accepting the concept of love or in loving another person who loves you back. It is a logical jigsaw puzzle of connectivity. But your ego has a big problem with the concept of the soul and in the case of Twin Flames; your soul also existing in another. If the problem the ego has with the soul can be likened to a fire, the concept of Twin Flames would be napalm.

In my case, I’m an over-thinker. I have never met a simple answer I could not first dissect into a chaos of more questions and with enough variables to choke the most pedantic philosopher. When I encountered my Twin Flame, my brain and heart were focused and aligned. I loved her in an instant, but it was too powerful to call love. The “knowing” was there too – but it was amorphous and without a convenient description to articulate in words. At first, as the symptoms of the connection began to manifest, I simply went with them because I had ways of explaining them.

For example; I suddenly became healthier and overloaded with positive, kinetic energy, which was something I simply enjoyed as a lifestyle change. Consciously, I knew she was connected to it, but my ego wasn’t necessarily bothered. The inspiration and explosion of creativity – also connected to her – was something I just accepted.

When the telepathy and emotional connection to her began to materialize and my full-blown spiritual awakening occurred with her at its heart, my ego became agitated. A sense of discomfort led to my brain trying to minimize what she meant to me or any connection at that level. I chalked it up to probable, temporary insanity or a side effect of the increase in energy or dietary changes. I tried anything I could to rationally explain what I was experiencing, even if it made less sense than what was actually happening. And to compound the issues, she was unaware as far as I knew.

Every morning was the same – she was my first thought. No matter what I was doing as each day progressed, she was constantly in my thoughts and emotions. Every night, the last thought I had before I drifted off to sleep was of her. I knew I loved her but I wondered whether I was becoming obsessed. An obsession is an unhealthy fixation or addiction to something. An obsession has a deleterious effect on the person.

With her in mind, it was not the all-consuming thought that obsession creates. She wasn’t debilitating to my life. To the contrary, her affect was overwhelmingly positive in my life. Everything that involved her or was inspired by her, resulted in me at my personal best and even better than I had reason to be. I easily lost the concept of time and was singularly focused on each and every task, assignment or project at hand. I was on fire!


Then, something unusual began to occur – I started to feel emotions which had no connection to me and made no sense of what was actually happening in my life; and I could find no rational reason for experiencing those feelings. I would be at my desk at work or in my basement and suddenly become giddy or burst out crying. I was bewildered because there was no underlying cause for me to feel that way. While I can’t definitively say those emotions were coming from another person, I know for sure they were not my own.

Later, after communicating with my twin I discovered I was able to confirm a factual link to the emotions I was sensing in real time. The emotions were hers. If she fell in love, I felt it in my heart chakra as a sharp pain. When her heart broke, mine did also – in the form of a pain that felt like a heart attack. I could literally feel her energy; her times of peace and harmony, as well as her bouts of extraordinary confusion.

Ironically, the aspect that my ego had most difficulty processing was the fact that I was able to distinguish between my own emotions and those of my twin. At a certain point my ego had to admit the connection was real because it ran out of rational explanations. Doubts cloak of shadows could no longer eclipse the light.


When the luxury of doubt finally dissolved, I was left with acceptance and the full awareness that she is my twin. That is when the “knowing” set in. It was like a harmony of the various aspects of my being, all saying at the same time: “She is my Twin Flame. It is her. It has always been her.”


There are many paradoxes in the Twin Flame journey. One such paradox is that the usual path is begun by neither party realizing that they are a Twin Flame. The two in question will experience unexplained synchronicities, and perhaps even odd circumstances which may lead and guide one and/or both along the path, but the moment of realization is not accompanied with an “ah-ha” moment escorted with the skies opening up and a beam of divine light spelling out “TWIN FLAME” in burning violet letters.


Oh, so there is no magic flag…


No, I’m afraid there is no magic flag!

Each Twin Flame path is specific to the set of Twin Flames, but there are enough commonalities that we are able to identify specific traits relating to the sacred connection.

For example; there is a Spiritual Twin – usually the predominantly divine feminine, and a Matrix Twin – usually the predominantly divine masculine. It is important to remember that Divine Feminine doesn’t necessarily mean female and Divine Masculine doesn’t necessarily mean male.

The Spiritual twin typically has an individual spiritual awakening first [either before or after they have encountered their twin]. During the course of their awakening, the Spiritual Twin will eventually become attuned to their Twin Flame – sensing there is something profoundly important about their counterpart – and will finally discover the knowledge about Twin Flames. Think of it in terms of being asleep. You wake up, make some coffee, cook your eggs, pop in the toast and slice up some fruit. Afterwards, you finally learn that you have made this thing called “breakfast”. The added kicker is that you have made breakfast for two and you’re not sure why.

The Matrix Twin is called such because he is accustomed to the 3D world and as such, has immersed himself/herself in those customary ways of doing things. Spirituality might be a foreign concept to him and he might not even grasp the idea or be able to acknowledge the synchronicities and signs which might be occurring – even if those signs are howling in his face like a wild storm. Think Clark Kent without knowing he’s Superman, figuratively speaking of course.

These roles lead to the push-pull dynamics of the Twin Flame journey and process. Because “running” and “chasing” sound rather predatory, I try to avoid it. It is simply the process of encountering fear and overcoming it, triggering and strengthening, and wounding and healing. If we look at it in this context, perhaps the pain can be better understood and both twins can learn from it.

It is always tempting to tell your twin that they are your twin. But try to think of it in terms of the natural order of the universe. Things progress as they should, and in the correct time they need to. A tree begins life as a seed which finds its way into the earth, interacts with nutrients and rain, before sprouting from its shell. After a while, the roots begin to anchor as the seedling pierces the surface and grows towards the sun. If you were to deny the seed this journey, no tree would appear. Similarly, telling your twin may be more about you shocking the process and imposing your own will and timing on the universe, as opposed to you surrendering and allowing the process to unfold naturally. When we try to force our will on the universe, it typically does not end well.

Instead of shocking the process, be there for your twin. Enjoy your twin, send them unconditional love in plenty, introduce them to spirituality if they are so inclined, and be part of their journey. Give them every tool they need to recognize the door to knowledge; the wisdom to unlock it; the strength to turn the key; the will to grasp the door knob and push on the door. When they are ready, be there when they find the courage to walk through the door because they will need you to be there as their Spiritual Twin in the same way you need them.

I’m not going to sugar coat it – here’s the thing – this journey is HARD and the pain can be almost unbearable. Sometimes, you want to scream: “Wake up, my Twin!” because it is so damn frustrating. You become frantic with excitement to have found this extraordinary soul; your soul, and you look at any time spent apart as wasted time. I get that, truly I do.

In those times of pain, my advice is to meditate and reflect on the situation. Drop your attachments and shed your fear. Attempt to understand where your pain is coming from. Be gentle with your twin, even when they are testing your every nerve and last sprig of sanity. Be as gentle as if you were opening your front door to them, or setting that plate of breakfast down in front of them.

I began this journey from the ground level, a place of not knowing. I use my hunger for knowledge to acquire information and learn all I am capable of learning. Then, I take all the material offered, process and sort until I am able to make sense of it as much as I can. I try to keep grounded in all that I learn and focus my efforts on sharing with others that need the advice and guidance, to serve others experiencing their own Twin Flame journey.

That is an important aspect of the Twin Flame journey; to understand that we are not only part of a connected universe, but as Twin Flames, we are part of a connected community of souls who deserve our empathy, love and understanding. If I can help those on the path find their groove, maintain their sanity, faith and hope – help them understand and mitigate their own suffering, both in this process and in healing their past wounds, then I am fulfilling part of my mission to change the world.

As I set about helping other Twin Flames, it is my desire that we proceed down our respective paths and, in the process, understand Love in its purest, energetic signature and resonate a frequency so high, that it further expands the universe.

Do you want to know the reason why, as a Twin Flame, I help and serve others? The reason has nothing to do with money – I don’t charge a dime – or fame – which I don’t have – or anything else which might serve as a motive for one’s efforts. The reason is love and the fulfilment of a simple truth I have learned; Love makes the impossible, possible.

Want to talk more with Xavier? You can find him on the web via the links below. Alternatively, leave a comment and he will respond with pleasure.

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Missed out on parts one & two of The Twin Flame Connection Series? Don’t fret, you can find the links below.

View The Twin Flame Soul Connection Part One

View The Twin Flame Soul Connection Part Two


The Twin Flame Soul Connection – Part Two – Runners & Chasers


Love makes the impossible, possible.” – Xavier Eastenbrick.

The notion of one soul dividing to incarnate the earth simultaneously first came to my attention back in 2007 when reading Michael Newton’s, Destiny of Souls. I remember the idea seemed so far out of my range of perception at the time that I almost immediately dismissed it as an improbability. Yet, as my life has unfolded the opposite it now true. I have come to believe the Twin Flame journey to be an extremely personal and spiritual path – one that can only be completely understood by those experiencing it. I was so fascinated by the idea of this divine connection, that I chose to explore and write about it in my novella, Wildflower – a story included in my latest collaborative release, Untamed DestiniesIt was during my research for that particular project that I discovered Xavier Eastenbrick.

For me, soul connections are a super interesting topic to ponder. I’m thinking it must be an honor and a privilege to have encountered your Twin Flame during this lifetime, but you [Xavier] mentioned that the path is not necessarily an easy one. Can you tell us more about that? Why is it that those experiencing the true Twin Flame connection suffer? And perhaps you can explain the notion surrounding what is termed as the “runner/chaser” dynamics between Twin Flames.       


I never really had a problem with the soul splitting aspect of Twin Flames incarnating on earth because as odd as it might seem, I always felt there was a certain aspect of myself that wasn’t part of me – as if I wasn’t truly whole. I felt the split before I knew about it. It was just a sense, but it was a sense that was core to the development of who I am. I thought it was normal. When I encountered my Twin Flame and then discovered information about Twin Flames, those feelings I had always felt began to make much more sense.

It’s funny. We accept biological twins in our society, but we find it difficult to grasp the concept of a soul splitting in much the same way. In the Sufi religion, they speak of Twin Flames as twin rings interconnected in a vesica pisces shape. This [symbolism] has always resonated with me. Of course, the question that many ask (almost hopefully) is: “Okay, the soul can split into Twin Flames. What about three or more parts?”

No. Just no.

vesica piscis galaxy lt

It is complicated enough for soul-counterparts to live their lives across time and space and then find each other and deal with the connection. It would be a cruelty of cosmic proportions to split the soul into three or more parts and then have a tripartite connection. I am happy to be proven wrong, but as far as I am concerned, I reluctantly accepted Twin Flames as a reality and cannot fathom a further split of the soul.

I say “reluctantly” because my faith began from a place of scepticism and wilful doubt – I did not want to believe in any of this. I tried my damnedest to justify as much as I could, but there were core elements to the connection that were simply beyond random happenings that could be dismissed as coincidence or imagination. It is much like when one may doubt the existence of a higher intelligent design and order to the universe; whether it be named God or source energy, it is the momentum and divine will of the universe. You can try to supply a rational explanation – and then you encounter sacred geometry; the golden ratio; the universality of numbers and the Fibonacci sequencing. Regardless of your view on religion, none of these phenomena are random. There is order to the universe and that order represents an intelligent design.

There are schools of thought within the Twin Flame community who theorize about Twin Flames being the split of the primary soul, and then there are twin rays and so on. I am not necessarily on board with those extensions because it seems to unnecessarily complicate an already complicated connection.

After many hours of research and devouring endless words surrounding the realm of soul connections, and according to my own intuition based upon my experiences thus far, I have drawn the following conclusions I believe to be true of soul connections:

  • Karmic connections – lessons to be learned.
  • Soulmate connections – include aspects of one’s soul family – connections that resonate in a harmonious frequency and which further the soul’s growth.
  • Twin Flames – the crown jewel of soul connections – the mirror self; the counterpart of the soul; the great tempest of change. Twin Flames are the fire crucible of the soul, as well as the trigger of soul healing and betterment.

I think you get my drift. Your Twin Flame is many things and will at some point during a lifetime eventuate into a harmonious union. But much like a duet of out-of-tune instruments, in the lead up to harmony there often exists a dissonance between the souls which can be quite frustrating.

The Twin Flame journey and the life-path of a Twin Flame is complicated, very much personal and can be difficult. It should be made clear that the difficulties and pain some encounter on this journey have nothing to do with being a Twin Flame and everything to do with healing and releasing attachments and expectations instilled in our egos.

To become the best version of yourself, you need to have an extraordinary sense of self; who you are – your strengths; weaknesses; fears; insecurities; vulnerabilities; wounding; unhealed scars; the deepest and darkest aspects of one’s self. It is the kind of stuff buried beneath the core of your soul that when confronted, can drive you to the brink of madness. Facing these feelings can often be turbulent, but it is in acceptance and forgiveness of ourselves that we are able to recognize our self-worth. Those are easy enough words to write, but it is a very different story when learning to acknowledge and address the process in one’s soul work.

When you encounter your Twin Flame, the meeting triggers aspects of your soul to accelerate change from within. No one changes you. Anyone who tells you that change comes from without is selling you on a narrative of lies. Change can only come from within – and only when you have an understanding of the issues that require transformation and have a genuine desire to change them. This is why the Twin Flame path can be painful; because in most instances we naturally resist acknowledging our deepest truths and want to defy the idea of revolutionizing all that which with we have grown comfortable. It is amazing what we get comfortable with.

We build up defences and shut down the breadth of our hearts because the way love works in this world and among people is often unsatisfying and conditional. In reality those invisible walls are not defences but prison confines that keep out that which we fear, yet those same defence mechanisms also imprison that which should be freed. That part of my journey hasn’t been painful because if I get hurt, I might erect the equivalent of velvet curtains with ropes, just like the ones you might find at a movie theatre. But eventually, I lower the ropes because I know that is not how I want to love. To me, true love means risking everything and running full force into the horizon and not away from it. It means I love like a tsunami and have the capacity to receive and accept the same kind of storm.

For example, my fear is abandonment. You know what terrifies me? Winnie the Pooh. Go ahead and laugh. But at the end of Winnie the Pooh, after we have learned to love Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and even Eeyore, Christopher Robin grows up and leaves. “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.” That breaks my heart. Of course, there is hope: “But, of course, it isn’t really good-bye because the Forest will always be there…and anybody who is friendly with bears can find it.”

While the Forest may be there and anyone can find it, the thought that rattles around my head is whether anyone would want to find me there. Will my Twin Flame want to find me or will I be that teddy bear languishing at the bottom of some closet until someone donates me to good will?

It sounds silly, but every time I see Toy Story 2, I cry at that one scene when Jessie recalls how she was once loved by her Emily and then, Emily grew up and Jesse was eventually forgotten and finally put into a box and donated to good will. She was abandoned. That is the way I have felt most of my life.

I’m Pooh. I’m Jesse.

I had to face abandonment in order to transcend beyond that fear. Two divorces and deaths of those closest to me – all of these experiences reinforced the fears while giving me the tools to deal with it. Separation from my twin also crushed me on the inside and triggered an awful dark night of the soul. An experience that was so dark, I almost couldn’t distinguish between the shadows from the night. But no matter how dark I plunged, or how far I fell into the depths of fear, my soul was resilient and I survived. I found the tools within to mitigate fear and pull myself out of the darkness. I stand on my own and the one person who I can always rely on to stay with me is me. And that is the point. Many will focus on union with their twin as opposed to becoming the best, strongest version of themselves.

Those on their Twin Flame journey do not have to suffer, or at least don’t have to endure prolonged suffering. It is all a matter of perspective and choosing to surrender your will and expectations. What I mean is that while we participate in fate, we do not control nor can we accelerate divine timing. It happens when it is supposed to happen and no sooner. The sooner we accept this, the sooner we can heal.

Think of it like this: a mother and a child are in the kitchen. The mother says to the child, “do not go near the stove, it will burn you.” The child goes near the stove, touches the lit burner and gets burned. The mother soothes it and reminds the child not to go near the stove. At this point, if the child has learned his/her lesson, they will not get burned again. If the child goes ahead and touches the stove again, they will endure more pain. It is not much different here. The lessons are roughly the same.

If you feel pain in separation, ask yourself why you are feeling pain. Is it a matter of your fear? Is it a matter of your attachment to an expectation or an expected outcome? The most difficult aspect of this journey to process is unconditional love. When it feels all warm, fuzzy and happy, it is easy to say you love someone unconditionally. It is when it all turns upside down that conditions pop up. That is when you can actually understand how challenging it is to love unconditionally.

Twin Flames often engage in a dance of push and pull – more commonly, and unfortunately referred to as the “runner and chaser” phase. The thrust of it stems from the fact that there is usually a Spiritual Twin who has awoken earlier and is in fact a guide for the other; the Matrix Twin. The Matrix Twin is living their life and has not yet awakened. They might not even know about Twin Flames or understand or acknowledge the connection. They might be freaked out about what they are feeling. And the rub of it all is that the Spiritual Twin can’t just tell the Matrix Twin that they are a Twin Flame and more specifically, their Twin Flame. In short, it is a bittersweet paradox.

In matters of soulful truth, you must arrive at your own knowledge and understanding. It is not simply a matter of wanting to be something. You need to feel and experience it for yourself, and all the convincing in the world will not make it happen. The Matrix Twins have to believe and until they do, they won’t.

“But why would anyone run away from someone who loves them and who they love?”

That is the logical question a Twin Flame might ask in this dynamic, but it is not as simple as it seems.

When you encounter your Twin Flame, you are encountering someone who is both an entirely familiar soul; your soul and yet, at the same time, a riddle wrapped in mystery with a bow tied in a quagmire – Who the hell are you and why do you love me? What is going on with me? Why do I love this person and why are they on my mind all the time? Oh wait, this is starting to frighten me! This is intense. Defences up. Denial; denial; denial. Then, “fight or flight” kicks in and suddenly, there is a Twin Flame sized hole in the wall and a dust trail leading away from you.

You are beside yourself with shock. So, you put on your sneakers and start chasing them, yelling: “Wait. I think you just didn’t hear me. I said I love you! That’s all. Come back!” Sometimes they run even faster. Sometimes they might hide in the woods. Sometimes, they might run to a familiar romantic interest. Who isn’t you.

Are they doing it to hurt you?


Are they trying to forget you?

They might be.

Do they love you?

As incredible as it might seem, they do love you and it scares the living daylights out of them.

I know what a nonbeliever would say – exactly what I would have said: “Oh, just let them go and move on. You’re just reeling from an unrequited love and they just aren’t into you. This was all a stupid crush and now it’s over. You aren’t connected to anyone. It’s just part of life.”

Here’s the part where I tell you something unexpected; they are part right.

Of everything a nonbeliever might say – which is patently wrong – they would be correct in advising you to let them go. Surrender. If they are your twin, let them go and they will be back. Don’t chase them; whether it be in reality or energetically. Give them space to deal with the complex panoply of emotions and the crisis management they are dealing with. Remember that this is an eternal soul connection and lifetimes are not the Endgame. Your encounter is enough and if and when they choose to return or if the divine timing of the universe conspires to bring you together again, you will have them back.

Some words of advice: don’t let your ego and pride get in the way. Just because you may have realized who and what they are and are able to deal with the intensity of it all, be gentle in your understanding of their reaction. Forgive them as if they are the prodigal twin.

Remember, the love between Twin Flames is unconditional. That means you send them your love even in separation and in silence. You send them your love with no expectation that they’ll ever love you back. You send them your love even if they hurt you and abandoned you; even if they chose someone else over you. It’s hard and can feel painful at first, but this is not a typical love story of boy meets girl and happily ever after in this lifetime. It might just be, but often times it takes many lifetimes of learning the dynamics of love to become the soul who can face their counterpart without fear and handle the intensity of the connection.

Want to talk more with Xavier? You can find him on the web via the links below. Alternatively, leave a comment and he will respond with pleasure. Stay tuned for more from Xavier in next week’s post – The Awakening.

Catch up on Xavier’s first post Soul Signatures here.

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Xavier’s extraordinary find just last week in the garden!

Scandalous: A Fleeting Love Song

depositphotos 6337739 xl 2015


Do you remember your first broken heart?

You do, right?

I’m not talking about the crush you had on that cute guy or girl during middle school that resulted in a wounded heart for a day or two. I’m talking about the first time you felt as if your heart had split in two and spilled with the blood of utter misery. The time you cried yourself to sleep every night and awoke with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You know what I’m talking about.

It was the same time when every love song you’d ever known suddenly resonated. No longer was Islands in the Stream just a chirpy tune you knew off by heart. That music. Those words. They weren’t just catchy vibes you sang along with to the radio anymore.

Uh-uh. No sirree.  Your world had spun off its axis and nothing would ever be the same again. You had leveled up to a different ball game and you’d just lost the first innings.

Welcome to heartbreak central.

Don’t forget to grab your tissues at the door while you drown yourself in the music that now transcended into something meaningful. Something solemnly expressive. Something … raw. Lyrics. Tunes. Voices. Instruments. All of them pulsed, beaten and drummed against your brain like a weeping melody that etched a memorable notch on your freshly bruised heart.

I Wish it Would Rain Down on Me – Phil Collins.

“Cos, I know in my heart of hearts I’m never gonna hold you again” – I mean, come on. I almost broke the cassette tape hitting the rewind button. I choked. The stereo choked. But I did it – I abused that rewind button till the surface was worn smooth while I sprawled on my bed and gazed teary eyed at the ceiling wondering how he could have rejected me.


Love Song – Prince and Madonna.

A love song with swag … Attitude … Sass.

“Say what you mean, mean what you say. This is not a love song.”

“I’m losing my mind (are you wasting my time).”


Hmm. Another subject.

He was my friend’s older brother and he liked Prince. He drove his parents’ car and he played the Batman soundtrack every time I rode with him.

Scandalous – Prince.

“Understand, understand that I love you.”

I understand. Baby.

He could dance. Oh, how he could dance. He had the moves and the grind. His hair would fall over his brow as he worked his hips and did sexy things with his lips. He asked me to dance at the high school disco, and holy mother of all things hot, I had never been so turned on.

Mind you, I was only sixteen.

And sweet.

Didn’t matter how sweet I was, by the following day, word had spread around like a blazing wildfire – He and Kim looked as if they needed a bed last night.

Erm… huh? Nah.

He must have heard it through the Grapevine, because it didn’t take long for my home phone to ring. Remember how phones used to be attached to the wall socket in a common area in your home and the curly cord could only reach so far?

Ours was in a small hallway leading to the bedrooms and the bathroom, smack bang in the midst of a heavy traffic zone. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stretch that damned cord far enough to reach my room. I tried hard.

Sweet talker crooned down the line. He’s all smooth.

“Hi baby.”

Blushing. He called me, baby?

I’m suddenly feeling rather mature .

“Hi,” I said, gushing.

“I had fun last night.”

Blushing plus heart flip.

Definitely feeling all-woman now.

“Me too.”

“Can I take you out on a date this Saturday night?”

Blushing plus heart flip plus inner-delighted scream.

Slight alarmed pause, then: “Hold on, I’ll just ask my mum.”

The grown-up feelings fizzled fast after that, especially when she slapped me with a strict curfew of 10pm.

Wait – what? 10pm?

I know, right? I debated. Hell, I argued till I was blue in the face. I was good at debating with my mother. I was also good at losing those battles. She was nervous. I was going out on my first date with an older boy that drove a car. What was her deal, anyway?

I didn’t understand …

He took me to Darling Harbour. He held my hand and we walked along the harbourside and gazed at the city fountains cascading beneath fairy lights that sprinkled and twinkled in the trees above us. Sigh.

Sound romantic?

It was. To me. Those moments were the same ones that bonded us. Well, I can’t speak for him, but that was my perception, my experience. It was short-lived though, because I had a curfew, remember, and he had other pressing matters to attend to within that timeframe.

Like, get into my pants.

 “Whisper, whisper a question.”    

He parked at the beach and asked me to join him in the back seat of the car. He introduced me to lust and desire, and the hottest kissing session I’d ever known. He introduced me to dry-humping.

“With my body, I’ll scream a reply.”

The chemistry was amazing, and I was falling in love. Foreign things began happening to my body; my head whirled, pulse ramped, nipples ached and something else – I got wet. Really wet.

Who knew that could happen?

Not me.

Temperatures rose higher than a tsunami on amphetamines. The car windows fogged. We were covered in kisses and sweat and trapped in a steamy mobile Turkish bath on high arousal. My sweater was off. Bra still intact. It was at this point he moved in for the kill – the zipper on my jeans.

Panic set in.

“Don’t be afraid, baby. Touch it and explode.”  

It was going to explode alright. There was no mistaking the bulge, and absolutely zero doubt that he wanted to get unzipped and release its throbbing wrath upon me. It was then I put on the brakes.


“Huh?” Breath hot and urgent in my ear. Spaghetti hands in a frenzy. “No, why? We’re having fun.”

I couldn’t argue with that, but I wasn’t going to lose my virginity in the back seat of a car on a first date – no matter how much I liked him.

He didn’t like that.

“Take me home.”

He didn’t like that either.


Suddenly, I was silently grateful for my early curfew and had an inkling why my mother had been so nervous about this date. We rode in silence and he said he’d call me. He didn’t.

Enter Phil Collins on rewind.

What is it with guys not calling you if you don’t give out?


After that, he systematically made his way through a lot of pretty girls in my year who did give out. I think he appreciated systems. Yes, he liked his systems. The girls, however, did not. They put out and he called on them again – until they inevitably wound up sobbing along to Phil Collins.

Or Millie Vanilli.

“I knew it from the start you would break my heart.”  

I might’ve silently smirked when watching mascara tears staining virtuous faces black as one pretty girl after the other caught the backdraft of his sting. He hurt me too, but it could have been worse; I could have been one of them black-stained notches on his belt. I could’ve slept with him.

He called me again a few months down the track. He was ready for round two. I guess he thought I’d matured enough to get all-woman with him. That time, I turned down his invitation. Not saying it was easy, though.

That smile. Those deep brown eyes. Luscious lips … steamy mobile Turkish baths and hand holding in Darling Harbour beneath twinkling lights. Sigh.

“No thanks.”

Choke. Did I just turn down the most irresistible guy in school?

Yep. He shattered my heart for crying out loud. There was no return ticket. I did the time. I cried, I wrote him letters (and actually posted one to him – cringe); I moped around for days, weeks … months. Then I found a spot in my mind and placed him on a shelf and moved on. Witnessing his playboy antics probably helped some too. Black tears leave lasting strong impressions.

About six months ago I heard from him again. I was going through a tough time. My heart was hurting when he pinged me out of the blue. It was as if the universe was reminding me of the past. It was reminding me that hearts break, and hearts heal, and everything would be alright. Serendipity.

“I should write a book about my life. It would be a bestseller!” he told me.

“Oh, hey, I know. You can begin your book about the time you broke my heart.”

“Did I really? That was never my intention.”

Erm … yeah. Duh. Did you not get that letter? (cringe). I’m certain I spoke for myself earlier about the bonding and romance part along a dark Darling Harbour street. Luminous city fountains and fairy light dreams.


“You have my sincerest apologies. Believe it or not I have often thought about you over the years.”

Hmm. I wonder had I not put on the brakes in the steam-machine that night if that would have turned out differently. Either way, whatever it was that we shared has made its mark against our memories and formed part of the fabric of who we both are today.

I must admit he’s a pretty cool guy with a vibrant personality, though. Whenever I hear from him, he always makes me laugh. It’s not unusual to receive something like this in Messenger nowadays:

“What’s up, ex-girlfriend with a broken heart? HAHA!”

“Cute :)”

 “Spirits rise and spirits fall.”


Greenhorn; beliefs and opinions

“Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one.”

~ Dirty Harry.

The first time I heard those words spoken wasn’t during a screening of a Clint Eastwood flick. No blue-eyed, hard-nosed, convention defying Harry Callahan strutting with his Smith & Wesson revolver lit up my screen and branded my ears with that sentence for the first time. Far from it. I was twenty and it had been during a showing of the Nazi symbol firmly tattooed on the brawny arm of a bikie greenhorn.

Maybe I’d had one too many bourbons that night, or maybe I’d grown comfortable enough around these new friends to finally express myself a little. But then again, perhaps it was just when I was confronted by a symbol that to me represented fascism, dictatorship and the murder of around six million people that I had trouble taming the instant revulsion swirling in my belly. And there it was, flung out in the open before I could catch it – my opinion.

The words started to roll over my tongue, and at each unsatisfactory answer, I probed even more. Suddenly, I wanted to know why the bikie beefcake wore that symbol on his arm as if it were a prized medal, and more importantly, I wanted to know how he could choose to believe in such an atrocity.

And he wanted me to “shut the f**k up”.

I have an asshole, you see.

Those were the days when I was introduced to a new world of long whiskers, leather jackets and hot motorbikes. I know what you’re thinking, but before romanticised visions of Sons of Anarchy flood your mind, I’ll stop you right there. There were no super-hot males swaggering around in tight jeans and fitted shirts. And certainly, no Jax Teller straddling a shiny Harley-Davidson and beckoning me to cosy up behind him before whisking me off into the sunset.

Uh-uh. Not even close.

But that’s not why that scene fast became a fleeting memory for me. I stuck it out for a few months because my boyfriend had decided they were his new tribe. To be fair, some of them were his childhood friends. But in the end, I discovered it was a world in which I didn’t belong.

It wasn’t that they were bad people. Although none of them remotely resembled Jax from the above-mentioned notorious biker series, for the most part, they were fun to hang out with and quite accommodating. There were no qualms when it came to sharing, and I have to admit, they knew how to party. And party hard they did. I’d even made a friend among them. She was one of the girlfriends. She was blonde and nice, in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way, and she took a liking to me.

After a while, though, she was banished from her biker-girlfriend position, and cast aside for the next in line. She piled her belongings into her car and to my surprise, stopped by my house on the way out of town to give me my first dreamcatcher because she said I was the nicest person she’d met in Sydney. Another surprise. I mean, I knew she liked me but to be the nicest person she’d met in Sydney? I was honoured.

Then I remembered her choice of company.

Wait – was that another opinion flung out across my keyboard?

Well, I do have an asshole remember, and I’m betting the last time you checked, you do too. In all seriousness, I didn’t think more or less of that particular group of people. They were no different to me, and free to express their opinions and beliefs as much as the next person, even if the Nazi symbol had offended me at the time.

Actually, the part that had upset me the most during that interaction was when the bikie greenhorn responded with the phrase so famously spoken by Clint Eastwood in the movie The Dead Pool. I remember blushing and feeling embarrassed. I had no idea how to react, and suddenly felt self-conscious. I guess he had accomplished his intention, because yeah, I shut up pretty fast following that remark. And something else occurred to me – not everyone wanted to hear my opinion, and nor was it necessary for me to share it.

Opinions. Unless you’re a Buddhist monk, most of us can’t get through life without forming them, believing in them and living according to them. Hell, even Buddhist monks live according to their beliefs, right?

They are the threads of thoughts drawn from our experiences, our cultural, societal and academic backgrounds, and family heritage, and are strung together to eventually inform our belief systems.

We have all kinds of belief systems, too – religious and spiritual beliefs, political beliefs, philosophical and ideological, and the list goes on to eventually settle in the core of your being after you have sifted through it all and decided to adhere to a set of beliefs that feel right to you.

But what are beliefs and opinions really?

Practised thoughts. Practise a thought enough and it will become your reality. I could say I believed the sight of that Nazi tattoo offended me – until it didn’t. Until I realised that by allowing the outer conditions of my world to influence my reactions and feelings, that I was really giving power to circumstances and conditions outside of myself.

I’m not saying I had a complete about-face and now advocate the heinous actions of the Nazis and what would result as the holocaust. Quite the contrary. But I am saying that you can never escape the opinions and beliefs of others, and you’re not always going to agree or like what you see or hear. You can, however, choose how you react to those situations, and you can choose not to allow the opinions of others influence your self-esteem and self-worth.

Do I always get this right?

Hell no.

I still get hurt and feel emotional pain, and sometimes have fleeting moments of loss of control. Only now, it is the people that I love that can stir my most inner emotions. I don’t give that power away too easily these days, and even then, it has its limitations because I remind myself that I cannot pin my happiness, the outcome of my life, or my self-worth on anyone other than myself.

People will always have opinions, feel the need to share them and judge. You can’t stop it – even in yourself at times. But when I hear someone judging another person or impressing their opinions about them, or even when I feel the urge to pass judgement on another myself, I recall the words of Matt Kahn when he said, “May the person judging be the next in line for love.”

At the end of the day, that’s all we can do – qualify judgement with love and move on.

Move on with love.