a work in progress

Category: Faith? (Page 2 of 3)

Promise You

I can’t promise you.

I can’t promise you it’ll be easy.
I can’t promise you we’ll all always be there for you.
I can’t promise you that you’ll never cry alone.
I can’t promise you that all people you meet will live up to your idea of great people.
I can’t promise you that it’ll be peachy.

I can promise you that it’ll be challenging.
There will be days that will bring you to your knees.
Moments when you’ll wish you could rewind or undo the decisions.
Struggles that felt they would be easier, till you met them in the face and they gave you whiplash from the shock.

This love.
This life.
These choices.
The hardness.
The grittiness.

It all ain’t easy my friend.

But in the end.
How you see it.
How you feel it.

Has nothing to do with what it is.
And everything to do with your spirit.

So if you have to fix anything.
If you’re wondering where to start when the pain comes.
What part of you to soothe first.

Choose your spirit.


On Priviledge

This is an iffy topic. 
You see, there was a time when I was a girl from Mt. Roskil, stacking cans of Coke in a dairy fridge after school.
There was a time when we got to choose one gift for our birthday. 
Then there was a time when we lived with our grandparents, the five of us plus the two of them in a 3 bedroom house with a single toilet and a single bathroom. 
Soon after that, there was a time when we took a holiday every year – and by holiday, I mean an international vacation. 
Private school, iPhones, iPads, Peugeots. The luxe life (I mean, to you it might not be a Merc, but for me, it was, the luxe life). 
Papa always concealed the funds to us, we never knew if there was more or if there was less. Only Maa knew. 
From what I thought, we always had plenty, always had enough. 
Always priviledged. 

And soon after I got married, there was a time when I thought $10 was expensive for a lunch out. Cheap eats became my thing and I don’t say this from sorrow or grief or like I went through a tragedy. I say it with a secret pride. 
My friends were chipping in $50 for birthday gifts and I couldn’t find the words to say, “Gee that feels like a lot”. 
My salary was $42K a year and by the time it reached the bank account I was surprised by how little people lived on. 
I never knew much about the money. 
It was never a core strength or an area of interest. No matter how much my mother-in-law wanted to guide me, I couldn’t be the sponge to soak her advice. 

After the steady salaries, came the low funds from being business owners. 
There were fights. 
I pined for dresses and bags. 
Trips my sisters took but I couldn’t. 
Or boots my sisters bought that I couldn’t. 
I fudged conversations, told myself I didn’t really want the things I wanted. 
This is not poverty my friend. I know that and so do you. 

But after the counselling and the meditation. 
After the investing and the weekend working. 
And after our little darling Aru. 
Shit kinda came together. 

And what I’m saying is. 
We believed. 
I’m saying on those weekends when we went into work. 
Through those 2am wake ups to see if a developer had done his job. 
Beyond those lattes we missed and the ones we had. 
We believed. 

That it could work. 
This could work. 
A life the way we wanted it to be. 
Could work. 

And people look at us today – they say we’re priviledged. 
I agree. 
I say, “Yes, we’ve always believed we’re priviledged”. 

And tomorrow, when the storm rages, if it rages, we’ll stand by it. 
And believe. 
That we are priviledged. 

Because it is this belief. This belief itself. That has made us priviledged, through the storms gone past.

So my question to you is, do you believe you are priviledged?



Till you start saying 


You’ll never make enough room for all the 


That wants to come your way.

On Giving & Taking

V and I often discuss what it means to give and what it means to take. 

In the past, we’ve given staff extra, or assisted people who might have migrated or paid for education when we can. And we’ll often boil it down to the question, “but why?”. 

We truly acknowledge that it is done to ultimately feel good about ourselves. 

By the way, I should probably also mention that we believe that everything boils down to two things; love and fear. 

So every decision you make is either driven by love or by fear. 

And every emotion you feel is ultimately derived from love or fear. 

Probably a theory that needs a couple of blog posts dedicated to it… 

But nevertheless. 

So when we do something in a “giving” mode, we’ll often acknowledge that our underlying purpose is to actually feel good. From the refugees in Syria, to the men with cans standing at the Kings Way lights. It feels good to give. Selfish in its own giving way. And this isn’t me being negative, this is simply me boiling it down to where the feels actually lie. 

And in this way, I feel like we can hope to lose some of the ego that comes with giving. 

And accept, that whilst it is beneficial to the receiver, it is also just as beneficial to us and our emotional state of mind. 

It gives relief and good vibes.



I wanted you to know

Adult life is shit scary.

Until recently, I didn’t know of anyone who has been raped, now I do. I’d read books and watched movies, but it was never as close as a LinkedIn connection.

3 years ago, I thought domestic abuse happened to people on TV shows like in Shameless. I was so wrong and clearly so prejudiced.

I thought contemplating suicide happened when you’re drugged up or when you’re alone, now I know it may be a part of the scene, or it may not be at all. You could be rich. You could be handsome. You could be loved.

When I was little, I thought people were always whom you expected them to be. Mean aunties were and would always be mean aunties. I never knew good people had dark days.

And until now, I was trying to do everything under the flaming sun to raise Aru away from that darkness.

But today, I realised, that darkness is in all of us.

It is in every relationship, be it in the passion or in the stagnancy.

It is in every parenthood, be it in the trapping love or in the firm voices or in the depths of the dark night that takes away your sleep, relentlessly.

It’s everywhere.

Like day and night.

And I realised.

Instead of fearing it.

We are better off acknowledging it.

As my wise father-in-law says, “yeh ek samay hai.”

This is a time.

And of course, my dear friend, whatever it is you are struggling with, trust me, it too shall pass.

And should it be all too much, we are here for you.
Take a closer look and you will see.




In school, they teach us geometry, mathematics, PE, history and even some religious studies remixed with modern day meditation. We learn how to cook, a bit of woodwork and a dash of tax planning.

It’s like we’ve got a set of solid basics to start off from.
You’d think.

Last week, I caught up with a dear, darling friend of mine.
She’d been up till 3am.
She was hanging out with a dear, dear friend of hers.
Who tried to commit suicide.

This friend of mine is gorgeous.
She’s a lot younger than me.
Beautiful, expressive eyes, wild, ruthless hair and a spirit that V would have crushed on 10 years ago. She reminds me of the younger me, but with better hair and more make-up confidence.

I was worried. She shouldn’t have to go through this alone.
I felt I didn’t have the right words.
31 and I still don’t have the right words.

I said to her, I’d love for you to meet my counsellor, Kaylene.
I’ll cover it, all you need to do is show up.
And I even dulled down the talking part – I explained that it was just getting a “toolbox” for your brain. Helping you figure out what you might say and unpack how you might be feeling.

This beautiful, confident lass resisted.
She smiled with a “no, thank you, but no”.
I tried again, 3 more times before I let it go.


So. I was thinking. If that was me, 10 or so years ago, what would I have said? Probably the same thing.
It took V to convince me to go to counselling.
Not the other way around.
She could have been me.
I could have been her.

You tell me.
Did they teach you in high school how to cope if your grandma died?
What to say to your friend if they offered you drugs and you wanted to say no without losing your friend?
Did primary school have any classes on divorce?
Or perhaps they covered rape at uni?
How about what to do with a Dad who was never around?
Did they teach you why people can get angry?
Did they teach you why you get angry?
Or how to recognise a girl in trouble before you label her a slut?
Or how to deny the boy who keeps hitting on you at the bar?

It seems not. Nada. Nothing.

Then why the fuck did they bother with home economics?

There is something missing in our psyche.
It’s missing in our community.
It’s missing in our families.
It’s missing in our friendships.

It’s the ability to know when we need to seek help.
It’s the ability to assess our minds – and know that a friendly chat isn’t enough.

Why do we think we don’t need help?
That we’ve got this shit sorted?

What is so wrong with help?
With making that phone call?

A 911 is the real deal.
Hitting your child is the real deal.
Cheating on your lover is the real deal.
Slitting your wrists is the real deal.
Walking for 4 hours in the dark of the night alone in a massive park is the real deal.
Getting wasted every other night is the real deal.
Saying “shut up” to people you love and yelling at them is the real deal.
Losing someone you love is the real deal.
Fighting for months on end about the same issues – is the real deal.
Having a baby is the real deal.
Having another baby is the real deal.
Heck, getting married is the real deal.
Hating your kids is the real deal.
Maxing out the credit card is the real deal.
Lying over and over and over is the real deal.
Struggling as you watch your parents get closer and closer to divorce is the real deal.
Falling in love is the real deal.
Getting road rage is the real deal.
Arguing about the toilet seat is the real deal.
Cutting off a relationship is the real deal.

How bad or intense does it need to get before we seek help?
Or do we just think life is meant to be like this
– because home economics is all we need to get by?

Ask yourself – why am I so resistant?
Why is this help thing so hard for me?

Is it expensive?
Can I find someone cheaper?
Is it clicky?
Don’t tell anyone about it.
Is it embarrassing?
No one needs to know.
Does it make me less manly?
No, it makes you a rockstar really, trust me on this one.
But I should be stronger than this?
Hey, when you need help with your taxes, do you tell yourself you should be stronger than an accountant? When you want to do yoga, do you tell yourself you’re better off without a teacher? When you start bolting up your emotions, do you know where to start unwinding?

Or. Do. You. Just. Suppress?

The world has been getting it wrong for aeons – so don’t rely on it to tell you whats right for you. Don’t rely on me either.

But do – rely on someone. Learn from someone.
Just chose the right someone. Because we weren’t born here to do it all alone.



Little bird

Running away from your problems,

Taking flight in the night,

Booking away your tears,

How far will you go little bird?
You could go to Spain, to Russia to India and Africa,

That love of yours has no limits,

The heavens bestowed you with the luxe life

When they saw your sinewy hands, slender arms and the body that never tired, oh how hard you had tried.
Your wings take flight,

No plans, no strategies, no boundaries,

Just the feeling of wind on your face.
But it all catches up with you doesn’t it.

Because the thoughts never leave your mind.

You never really pressed the eject button.

And so the universe will always send you back.

It’s waiting for you.
It’s waiting for you at the point when dawn becomes day.
The point when you rise and see it.


The point when the thoughts stop.
And they will.
With that kind of a sunrise, they all said it was impossible to think.
All you could see was the pink and the orange and the glow of it.

And it did. Make you. Stop your swirling thoughts.

And you did.
Let all the darkness, the disease, the exhaustion, the marks and the scars fall from your wings like dust.
Let the past, the memories, too dark and too haunting, the anger and all that tension – tight from knuckle to knuckle, from eyebrow to eyebrow.

Let it go.

And finally. Bygones will be bygones.

And you’ll see the light that no religion could have ever shown you.

I wish you well my little bird.

Come home safe and fingers crossed, come home ready.

For a change and no more the same.

Let. It. All. Begin.




Your marriage
your career,
your friend circle,
your children,
your family,
your health,
your mind,

is all a result of the choices you’ve made to date.

The Sting of Jealousy

I’ve had it. You’ve had it. Want to hear my one?
My darling, darling friend bought a house in Fitzroy.
My sister fits into jeans and blouses so neatly. I’m flapping all over the place.
My cousin is so neat and organised – her handbag looks like what I’d imagine Donna’s would be like. From SUITS of course.
My client has Friday champagne lunches and loves them.

I adore them all so much and in those moments, I become so aware of how I’m feeling. I don’t really know what to do.

I only want to feel positive energy for people. I don’t want envy. I truly don’t.

Why is the grass always apparently greener?
Why do we loose appreciation for what is inside our palms?
Why does the unknown seem full of golden promise?

I know it isn’t greener.
I know what I have is incredible.
I know my own life is a golden gift.

I know it because I remind myself of it every single day.

I know it.
But I still felt it.

I guess the thing is.
To just be ok with it.
Let it pass.
And let it go.

Unless you have any alternative suggestions? Curious to hear your thoughts on this one, I don’t think I’ve reached the bottom of the barrel yet.



Do It

There is something you are pining for.
It could be that freelance job.
That solo life.
That dream trip abroad.
You pine for it every day.
On your way to work, you think about how life would be if you weren’t on your way to work.
When you are with your husband, you think about how it would be to leave him.
When you catch that flight away from your kids, you hear the toddlers in the row behind you and think about your own.

That thing.
That thing you are pining for.

Is change.
Consider how it would feel in your bones if it worked out.
Then DON’T CONSIDER how it would fall apart.
Because that is the -.
It’s not the +.
When in doubt, listen to the +.

Pray for the best and take a frickin leap.
Whatever you do, don’t stand in the same place when you want to move on.

Because you start to poison yourself.
Oh, it’s slowly my friend.
It’s a real slow, toxic poison.
This state of gradual unhappiness.
The problem with the slow, toxic type of poison, is that it creeps into your bones and into your blood.
It’s so subtle at first. Just a blemish here and a mark there.

But over time.
It scars you.
And over time,
you scar others.
The ones you love.
Because your unhappiness is so huge, you can’t see beyond it.

So before.
Before it all comes crumbling down.


Just. Start. Somewhere.
No matter where.



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