I’m writing to you from my new studio. More about that in a moment or two.
I recently read an article about a woman who said she’d spent her entire life treating herself as optional – until one day she didn’t.
She’d treated everyone else’s needs, comfort and peace as essential. She was the person who moved, postponed or cancelled when something “more important” came up for someone else.
She advises women to design a week where they’re essential, not optional. To block time for what makes them feel alive, and for everything else to be built around that.
I don’t want to count how many weeks have passed since I last wrote here. For three months over winter I put first what makes me feel alive, including writing here. I was firm with my boundaries. I put my phone on silent and didn’t check emails and simply wasn’t available to anyone during the morning hours. I found it easy to stick to my routines that best support me: morning meditation, Qigong, walking in nature, making my offerings, and a healthy diet with a focus on getting enough protein (skip the sugar).
Then, in the afternoons, I attended to the things that didn’t exactly make me feel alive, but had to be done. I noticed how different my energy was. In the mornings I felt inspired, excited, connected with my intuition, in tune with the beauty of nature and life, bursting with creative ideas, and joyful - just because. I was kinder. More generous. And while I haven’t surveyed those close to me, I think if I did they’d agree that I was “nicer” to be around.
In the afternoons my energy would start to drain, my fuse was shorter, and I’d find myself getting annoyed over life things that weren’t necessarily “that deep” (as my daughter would say).
When wedding season arrived in September, I started to become optional again. All the goodness of when I was essential, when I felt so incredibly alive, faded day by day. I became even less essential, even more optional, through October, November, and for most of December, until after I’d officiated my last wedding for the year.
During two-and-a-half months I officiated 21 weddings. I was the emcee for 10 receptions. Some weeks I officiated three to four weddings on top of my usual work.
Weddings are lovely. There are moments in nearly every ceremony that move me. It’s a beautiful thing to be part of a couple’s special day. I also find officiating ceremonies really easy. Despite the enormous pressure to “get it right” (there’s only one chance with weddings, and so much preparation, emotional investment and money goes into them) I don’t get nervous. Standing up and speaking to a group is one of the most natural things in the world for me to do.
And yet… Wedding season takes over my life. I simply don’t have the capacity for anything else when I’m officiating so many weddings along with the other work I’ve been doing. I’m refusing to allow myself to become optional anymore. I’m refusing to allow my power and purpose on this planet to become optional. Every hot flush I’m experiencing (and will keep experiencing until I’ve been doing all the things that truly support me for a few weeks) I’m choosing to see as a burning away of being optional. I’m fired up – literally.
I selected an Earth Warrior card this morning that reminded me that I am/we are the ones we’ve been waiting for. It also reminded me that anger can be a sign from the soul, a sacred gift that asks us to deal with a situation to bring about something different and more empowering. We can use our anger with compassion and clear purpose. I love my anger. My rage is sacred. It always guides me home to myself.
I’ve handed over a role I no longer want to do. I’ve freed up space to focus more on my soul’s work, to help you own your power.
I have two spaces left for my Held retreat in Bali, June 21-26. I’m gathering a group of wise, kind women to transform grief into power and purpose, heartbreak into beauty and joy, sorrow into aliveness and vitality.
This kind of transformation, as we tend to our hearts, is energy-giving and joyful beyond words. It’s not something we’re taught how to do (most of us don’t even know it’s possible). We all carry grief and pain, sometimes old, sometimes new, sometimes personal, sometimes collective, and when it’s not met and transformed we miss out on the medicine it holds for us. We miss out on fully claiming and owning our power.
As I watch the horrors of our world, I’m reminded that I can make a difference by living my purpose and being kind. When I tend to my own sorrow, and discover oodles more joy and aliveness, I contribute to the world I want to live in and that I want for all of us. The effects ripple out in magical and unexpected ways. Our time on this planet really is short. There is so much beauty for us to discover, and it can guide our lives in the most exquisite ways.
Bali is as much a calling as an invitation from me for this retreat. It’s a feeling of “yes, I want this for myself.” It’s a holding of our hearts, bodies and souls in ways that simply aren’t possible anywhere else. With a wonderful group of women, you’ll stay in a luxury eco resort close to nature so you can be close to yourself, eating meals made with freshly picked organic produce that are prepared with true love (you really can taste it), having massages, swimming in waterfalls, resting, walking in nature, taking part in celebrations and beautiful rituals with our group and the local Priest and women, laughing and having more fun than you’ve had in ages, and filling your heart and soul with a kind of joy that can only be described as overflowing.
Want to book one of the last spaces?
Please reply to this post if you’re feeling called and I’ll share all the details with you.
My new studio
I’ve been longing for a space to create that’s 100% mine, my own sanctuary, and at the weekend I moved into my new studio. I’m surrounded by creative people. In the studios either side of mine there are painters and ceramicists. A florist. Writers. An organic veggie box business. The studios are behind a quirky café and second hand bookshop. The people here are warm and friendly.
I’m in the process of making my studio exactly what I want it to be and I love it already. I cry when I walk through its old green door with a few stained glass panels. This is my creative home that I can decorate exactly as I want to and be fully with myself and who I’m here to be in this world.
I have shelves with shoe boxes of foraged nature, Christmas biscuit tins of shells I’ve collected, op shop finds, jewellery, Christmas tree decorations, a fountain with gathered stones and shells, a beautiful Indian kilim rug on the floor, animal bones collected on nature walks, alpaca and llama fleece and wool plucked from a friendly sheep’s back, crystals and other sacred objects. Oh, and coloured fairy lights that I just might put up. Because who said they have to only be for Christmas? Being in my own space, surrounded by objects that have meaning and beauty for me, is my version of Heaven.
There was a table with a round top already in the studio and I’m using it for my offerings. My new routine is to walk in the mornings and collect fallen nature, then bring it to my studio to make my offerings. Today’s offering for you – for us – is to not being optional:
When I made the offering a couple of days ago I chose what I felt drawn to include. Afterwards, I thought it would be fun to search for any meanings attributed to these objects and this is what I found (if you don’t want to read it all scroll down to where I summarise the themes below). Take from this list whatever most speaks to you:
Oyster shell: Protection, resilience, wisdom, abundance, and the transformation of inner pain to beauty (how about that!)
Mussel shell: protection, self-exploration, creativity, self-expression and happiness
Crab shell: protection, resilience, boundaries
Gold lion from Japan: protection, strength, courage and good fortune
Crystal bell: love, harmony and the restoration of peace
Rose quartz crystal: self-love, self-worth, serenity, love
Turtle: protection, wisdom, staying true to your path, longevity
Bougainvillea: protection, passion, resilience, prosperity and spiritual connection
Pink rose: gentle love, gratitude, admiration, divine femininity
Wisteria: enduring love, longevity, wisdom and spiritual growth
The statue is an Indian lady holding a diya – an oil lamp – which is a symbol of light conquering darkness, knowledge over ignorance, and prosperity.
The strongest themes: Protection, protection, protection plus love, prosperity, peace and wisdom.
When I choose to no longer be optional it requires firm boundaries, and some protection and mindful distance too, mostly from my own conditioning about being nice and good and putting other people first, and their expectations of me. The love, peace and prosperity come – they always come – when I choose to be essential for myself.
These offerings aren’t a matter of just arranging a few things on a table to look nice. They are made with intention and they carry a lot of power. In the past couple of days I’ve noticed more ways I’m still making myself optional, and I’m making changes to become more essential.
Want to become less optional too? Use this offering. Make clear intentions as you look at it. Maybe light a candle. Then design a week where you are essential. Take action. Live it. May you bask in the love, peace and prosperity that arrive in your heart.
Let’s make ourselves essential. Let’s own our power. Let’s help create a world that says “all of you belongs.” Let’s tend to our hearts and discover more aliveness and joy. We can do it together.
With love,
Tricia x
If you’re new here, welcome. This space is where I write about owning our power, with a focus on love, loss, beauty and the tender art of being human. It’s where I try to make sense of what it means to live with an open heart in a world that keeps breaking.
I believe our grief deserves reverence - not fixing, not rushing - but honouring. When we tend to it with care it transforms us. It brings us back to life. It brings us home to who we truly are.
If this speaks to you, I’d love you to stay connected. Subscribe to receive future letters, stories, and invitations to gatherings where we remember how to turn our sorrow into something sacred.
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