Can you imagine all the benefits of a spa visit without the paper panties or having to be coated in a sticky brown substance that has none of the pleasures of chocolate?
What if you didn’t have to think about how to modestly cover up with a towel, or even have to shave your legs and worry about stragglers near your lady garden or man field first. Where is this magical spa of freedom and pleasure? Can it really exist? Can I buy a voucher?
You don’t need to - this is Your Mind Spa and all you need to do is summon up your inner therapist so you can reap the benefits without a blush in sight. Most people visit spas in the quest for inner peace and relaxation but in reality bliss is already yours and I’m going to show you how.
If you like, you can make your inner spa experience more enjoyable by dimming the lights, lighting a candle and playing some restful music.
Make yourself comfortable and cosy ensuring you’ll be undisturbed for the duration of your 'spa visit'.
Here is one of my past lives that came to me after I self-regressed about 20 years ago. It didn't all come in one go, but during the regression and for a few dreams during the week that followed.
My sister Lizzy and I lived on the outskirts of a village. I knew the year was 1590.
Our mother had died some years ago, quickly followed by my father who died of a broken heart. His last words were, 'I'm sorry to leave but I need to be with your mother, you have each other. I leave you both our home and my love.' He then slipped into a peaceful sleep from which he did not wake.
Lizzy and I lived a happy settled life for a few years, growing flowers, making and selling bread. We had been schooled by our parents in herb lore and tended to the sick. Many visitors would come for healing potions. We helped at births and used herbs and prayers to ensure those who passed went in peace.
One day in October, the village men had a meeting. From that day our lives changed dramatically.
We never found out what the meeting was about and who exactly was present, but from that day the people in the village averted their eyes and whispered to each other whenever we passed by.
A lot of my work is with people who have injuries or suffer with chronic pain. As someone who lives with this I know the challenges and desperation this can cause.
Some years ago I was working at a golf club with a group of nine and there were two people with shoulder and neck pain, three had low backache, one had a headache and one suffering with IBS.
The two people remaining who didn’t have any pain felt quite left out. If you ask around most people experience discomfort of one sort or another quite frequently, especially, backache, headaches and the ilk. It might be just general aches and pains, pain following injury or surgery or a stress related problem in the form of tensions in the body.
And of course, pain leads to stress which leads to pain and so on. It can be a seemingly never-ending downward spiral and when this happens it is called chronic.
I am simply known as ‘healer’. People, in my and the surrounding villages, call on me for a variety of ailments. Daily I walk the hedgerows gathering flowers, barks and roots to make my lotions, potions and tinctures. I return to my kitchen to brew, grind and whisper the incantations to infuse the medicines with the intention of good health.
I help people with pain of the body, mind or soul sometimes all there if someone is deeply harmed. Often a broken heart from an unhealed injury or bad relationship can not be mended without compassion and regular infusions of healing. The grief of a life that was might drive some from taking to their beds and this can often lead to difficulties in them getting back up.
Together we stop excessive inflammation from spreading and turning in on itself with the bark of willow to cool the heat and the leaves of valerian to soothe demons in the mind. Finishing with milk of poppy to quieten the noise of pain.
We know of the way pain burrows deep, determined to stay put, and without correct measures can take hold as a permanent lodger.
It’s one of those lovely days again and you’re off to play golf. You feel good and all is well with your world.
You tee off at the first and think to yourself, ’So what was that all about?’ ~ as you watch the ball disappear nowhere near the place you wanted it to go. You decide it’s first tee nerves and try again.
But oh dear, another rubbish shot followed very quickly by another. With each successive shot you feel your stress levels rising and your confidence falling.
As if that isn’t bad enough the harder you try the worse it gets. You find your jaw tightening, your neck and shoulders tensing and the first suggestion of a headache coming on. Your swing goes more off line and you begin to really dislike playing golf. Your brain goes into overdrive as you try to analyse yourself and you dread the remaining holes.
What’s going on and why is it happening? Why is confidence so elusive?
"It just shows what can be done by taking a little trouble," said Eeyore. "Do you see, Pooh? Do you see, Piglet? Brains first and then Hard Work."
The House at Pooh Corner
Yet another person has told me how lucky I am because my husband and I have just returned from a Greek island.
Many times luck is mentioned when I talk about writing. One person actually said, “You have a publisher? A real one? Gosh, you are lucky!”
I, apparently, have tons of luck that has resulted in my wonderful family, delightful friends, flourishing career and beautiful home in the country. How did it all happen?
Well, I was strolling about one day minding my own business when ‘wham’ it all fell out of the sky at my feet! Imagine that. Yes, dream on.
The process of writing and having a book published is like giving birth with all the same feelings. True, you can be a bit calmer after surviving the first as you know how the process works but although each experience is unique the similarities are there. As labour starts you get an instant wave of, 'Oh, I remember now!'
It goes something like this:
Foreplay – I want to write a book
Climax – I’m going to write a book. Are you with me ;)
Conception – The idea for a book has gelled
Incubation – I’m writing a book
1st trimester – I’m good at Solitaire
Worries – My book is rubbish
Recovery – My book is brilliant
2nd trimester – I’m also good at online Mahjong
Worries – What if they say no, get a real job
Mid-way – The publisher said yes
3rd trimester – My book is being edited, proofed and printed
Worries – What if they change their mind
Close to due date – Excitement and fear in a bundle
Closer still - Little shows and teasers
Labour – Might come early. Keep breathing
Birth – Push it out there and hope no one thinks it’s ugly…
I’ll keep you posted should I get any twinges x
Why is it hard to stop smoking? How can those little sticks of leaves cause such hardship and have so much power?
The majority of people who smoke began in their teens because it was a cool thing to do, smoking helped you to be one of the "gang," everybody else did it so you didn't want to be left out, it was glamorous, helped you to look older, and so on. You probably also believed that you would only do it for a while and when you were ready to stop, you would.
So what happened?
'Fear' of going without it the top reason people give in the decision to be free. I know - I used to smoke. Every night when I went to bed I told myself, "No more. Tomorrow I won't smoke. I am stopping now."
In the morning I would 'need' a cigarette. I would then comfort myself by saying, "Oh well, now I've had one so I may as well smoke today.
But, tomorrow… definitely!"
And this went on for years.
Once upon a time.
In the beginning.
There was a man/woman/dog.
Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome.
Did you hear the one...
Beginnings need to pull you in right from the start. Think of them like chat up lines but less sucky than, ‘do you come here often.’
Authors have told me of the stress caused by those first few words/lines. For some it becomes so crippling they gaze at the screen or sheet of paper and lament on the condition un-lovingly referred to as ‘writer’s block’.
Well, I have a secret for you. You do not need to get it right or correct first time. In fact, and here’s the biggie, you do not even have to write the beginning at the beginning.
There I’ve said it. My name is Barbara and I write out of order.
element1. a component or constituent of a whole or one of the parts into which a whole may be resolved by analysis.: bricks and mortar are elements of every masonry wall.
2. Chemistry. One of a class of substances that cannot be separated into simpler substances by chemical means.
3. a natural habitat, sphere of activities environment etc.: to be in one's element; Water is the element of fish.
I am writing this is a taverna in Skala Eressos, Lesvos; sitting on a comfy sofa looking out to sea with a cat purring at my side and, of course, free wifi.
My day began with a walk followed by a swim in the Aegean and as I bobbed about in the water looking back to the awakening village I felt a wave: literally and metaphorically, of feeling that I was truly in my element.
Written by Herself
I write as the muse takes me and here is a blend of blog posts and articles.