Is NON-REACTION even possible for us mere mortals?

mindfulness/myroommatenancy/mindfulness

I’ve been trying this new thing lately – well for the past year –but it’s so hard to do that I feel like I’m still ‘on training wheels’.

 

It involves acting like a Zen Monk…. All the time. More specifically, if something ‘out of the ordinary’ happens to me throughout my day – I’m trying to NOT react. Yes….. That’s right – I’m trying to just go with it, surrender,  and not create a mind made-up ‘story’ in my head about why it’s annoying, terrible and/or inconvenient.

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How I learnt to embrace my once despised wog-brows

Me and my big wog brows have had a tumultuous relationship over the years. They were once the bane of my existence.

When I say wog I’m referring to the Aussie slang for people (like me) of Eastern Mediterranean heritage. I think when trying to explain the ‘style’ of eyebrows that I am, you need only refer to them in that way and you’ll form an image in your head. (If you’re not sure then Google image search it and then get back here).

At the age of 15, I remember actually standing in front of the bathroom mirror, razor in hand, considering whether or not to shave them completely off. I genuinely thought that would be an improvement to my face-situation. My mum didn’t agree – but what would she know, I thought, she had a loving, harmonious relationship with hers. Read More

A longwinded blog about my 6 favourite Self-Development books (& why you should read them)

self development books/mindfulness/spirituality/

Why six? Because I can.

 

I remember the first time I attempted my first self development book. I think I was 20 years old and the book I’d picked off my dad’s book shelf was some tatty 1990’s ‘best seller’ called “Success through a Positive Mental Attitude” by Napoleon Hill. Such an ambitious first choice. I remember feeling really self conscious about it too. The secretive Scorpio in me didn’t want people to know so I’d strategically place it, cover down, flat on a table or I’d carefully place it in my handbag at the end of the day with the spine facing downwards.

 

I was a closet self-help reader. I was trying to find the answers to, and make sense of all the ‘Nancy’ mind chatter going on in my head like:

Bec I know you’re in the shower at the moment and you’re trying to switch off but… I don’t like quiet.  Let’s think about that conversation you had with your boss a week ago.  I don’t think he liked it when you laughed your head off when the pen broke in his mouth and the ink went all over his face. Laughing was the wrong decision” Or: “I’m going to remind you of every terrible thing that’s ever happened to you and you should dwell on them with me and feel terrible today” or “But who the bloody hell are you, like really? You don’t know? You’re a moron then.”

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Don’t believe the stories you tell yourself

Nancy’s been telling me lately not to make my blog live. I’ve been toying with the idea for months and there’s a little niggly part of me (Nancy) that says: “Oh, noone wants to read your boring crap” and “What happens when you make your blog live and then no one reads it? You’ll look like an idiot.” Or my favourite: “Who the bloody hell are you to be dishing out advice?”– Well I’m not mate, I’m just sharing what’s worked for me and what I’ve spent  a lot of my personal time and money learning.

 

I carried on getting my website ready for launch anyway. Then I went into the bathroom and plucked some strange, unsightly hair from my boob while half listening to Nancy tell me my body was doing unnatural things and I’d better not tell anyone about what I’d just witnessed.

 

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