Stand up for what you think is right - but speak with love

Woman speaking into megaphone
I’ve spent most of my life running from confrontation, so I can understand how yesterday’s angel card – which urged us to stand up for what we believe – might have been a little difficult for some of you to digest. The reason many of us struggle with assertiveness is because we don’t want to cause friction or upset other people. We’d rather suffer than put ourselves in a situation where we might spark a conflict. This is doing ourselves an enormous disservice, and robbing the other person of a cue to reflect on their actions. And that’s a shame because we are all here to help each other lead better lives – but, ideally, without judgement and without infringing on others’ right to choose their own direction.

It’s important to know that you’re not being mean to someone if you say something that is contrary to their opinion or behaviour. If they are doing something you consider unfair, immoral or which causes pain and difficulty to another person (including yourself), you’ll feel a pull to speak up from within. What’s important is that your intentions are good – ie you speak from the heart – and that you frame it in a way that isn’t a personal attack. If someone cuts in front of you in a queue, for example, you’re not being a troublemaker if you point out that they’ve cut in, and that you were there first. Regardless of the outcome, at least you said something – sometimes people will take the piss because they’re willing to wager that no one will call them out on it. Being assertive is not the same as being aggressive. If you call someone a nasty name and shout at them for their rudeness, that’s probably not going to go well. 
Woman with love hearts coming from her mouth
Speak your truth - with love
I’m not saying there aren’t sometimes consequences to speaking out – and of course you should take that into consideration – but if your intuition is telling you to speak up, you’re urged to honour that. 
The history books are bursting with examples of people who’ve spoken up despite the risk of adverse effects – whistleblowers, civil rights campaigners, agents for change. But it’s not only big social issues that call us to speak our truth, it’s everyday interactions.
About eight years ago, my best friend at the time, who was living overseas, made the very difficult decision to break up with her boyfriend and move back home. Because it was going to be so challenging living with him while she went through the process of packing up, leaving work and severing ties with the city, she decided not to tell him she was leaving until just before her departure date, about three months down the track. I can certainly understand her desire to delay that inevitable crushing moment, but I felt that in not telling him their relationship was already over she was deceiving him. I felt – and this is only my opinion, of course – that she was being unfair. In buying “peace” for herself she was maximising the pain for him later on, when he realised he’d been kept in the dark and misled as to their future together. I told her all of that... and I think you can guess how well it went.
She went ballistic at me and told me that as her friend, my job was to support her. I believed then – and I still believe – my role as her friend is to challenge her on significant choices that reflect poorly on her. Of course I was far too upset to explain that at the time. Instead of reflecting again on whether her decision was right – which she probably, deep down, knew would bring her face to face with something she did not want to face – she chose to focus on being outraged at me. A personal attack ensued, and we did not speak for about three months, which made us both miserable and put a lot of strain on our mutual friends. I should point out that this is only my side of the story, and I’m sure she has her own perspective on the incident. I should also point out that the way I expressed my thoughts was embarrassingly sanctimonious and laden with judgement, so I can hardly blame her for firing up. (Cringe.)
Do I regret my decision to speak up? No, although I’m not proud of the way I expressed myself. For me, it was important. One of my core values is treating other people fairly. It’s not up to me to tell other people how to behave but in a situation where I feel a deep unjustice is being done, I would like to think I will always use my words (carefully) to bring another perspective to light so others will pause and question their actions. What they do after that is up to them – and if they’re a friend of mine, my job then is to accept that and look for ways to support them.
If you feel deeply uncomfortable about someone’s actions and they ask you for your opinion – or worse, ask you to be party to it – what will you do? Doing the right thing is an incredibly complicated – and often, risky – act but it’s one that your angels ask you to honour as much as you can.
It’s certainly something to think about.

Help! I think I just did something brave... and I'm terrified!

Taking a chance, pushing through fear
Ever done something bold and thrilling and daring, then woken up the next day and thought, ‘what the hell have I done?!’
I’m not talking about a party flashback (although, God knows…). I’m talking about the big life-changing decisions that force you into a frightening place of immense vulnerability where your future no longer seems secure as it was. The result: terror and regret. But mostly terror.

Yesterday I signed a lease on a practice room at a holistic health centre in Inner West Sydney, from which I’ll be offering reiki and angel card readings, two days a week. I’d been talking about doing this for months, and I think everyone was as bored with the subject as I was. It was time to put up or shut up. So I did. I put down a hefty deposit and signed a lease which I’m bound to for a year. At the time I felt emboldened, confident and optimistic. But within hours I had that gut-wrenching ‘oh-God-what-have-I-done’ feeling. I don’t need to tell you this is a significant financial risk on my part. There’s also more than a small element of emotional risk too – if I don’t get a healthy client base I’m going to look and feel like a failure. 
As the landlord was asking me about my target audience (um, anyone with a pulse?) and my marketing plan (don’t even know what that is), I suddenly realised I’m in way over my head. I do not have a single client, and I don’t know the first thing about how to get any. I know I’m good at energy healing and angel communication (well, so my feedback indicates) but I also know ability and talent are immaterial if you can’t get anyone to walk through your door.
Guys, this is terrifying. The only thing keeping me from having a full-blown panic attack is the faintest hope that this *just might* work out. And the sense that if I don’t give it a go, I’ll always wonder whether it might have.
In a way, this reminds me of last year when I quit Auckland and moved to Sydney – a decision which also defied logic and threw me into an uncertain future, both financially and personally. And here I am again, staring at a foggy road ahead. Feeling woefully unprepared, but mildly buoyed by some brilliant person's quote that goes something like this: ‘No one is ever really ready for anything’. I’m whispering that silently, and often, to my Richter-scale-level thudding heart.
I know how much is riding on me backing myself and promoting my skills, and I’m genuinely unsure whether I can do that. There’s only one way to find out.
Risks uncertainty brave bold