If manifesting isn't working out for you, this might be why

With so many angel card messages lately urging us to set intentions to manifest what we want in our lives, I thought I’d write about how we sometimes block our dreams from coming true by wanting them too much.

Wait, what?

Bear with me. I *know* that sounds counter-intuitive. How can you want something too much? I mean, no one would set a goal for something they didn’t really want, right?

The problem is that when we want something so much that we devote all our focus to it, we don’t give the Universe enough space to make it happen for us –  and that messes up all the good energy we’re trying to send out. We get in our own way. We try to force it before the time is right, jumping on every opening that seems like it could possibly be the way forward, instead of pausing to let our intuition guide us. We might pursue business opportunities that don't suit us and chase potential romantic partners who aren’t that into us. Speaking of romance, my own love life is a case in point: I believe that I only got the relationship I’d yearned for after I had stopped looking for it. I had not given up on love, I had just given up the search for it (for the record, love is not something you find. It finds you... when the time is right).

There is such a thing as being too attached to something. If we idealise how we want our lives to look, we may become tunnel-visioned and not realise that the Universe is showing us a better way. The problem is not the wanting of said thing, it’s the clinging to said thing.

This isn’t just a trick to play on ourselves so we don’t get too disappointed if something doesn’t work out, BTW.

When we ask the Universe for something, there are only three possible answers it gives:

·         * Yes
* Not yet  
             *  I have something better in mind

Here’s an example. Last year I was completely fixated on my goal of making my reiki practice work. It was haemorrhaging money, and I exhausted every avenue my Mastermind group and I could think of to attract the clientele the business needed. I sensed I’d made a misstep in opening a business without establishing a client base first, but I was in too deep and I felt I couldn’t just walk away (flogging dead horses has always been a hobby of mine, lol). I was so obsessed with making it work that I’d staked my sense of self-worth on the success of the venture, so that when it inevitably failed, I felt like I was the failure. Not exactly a healthy approach.

I’ve already written about my struggles with that resulting sense of failure (read that post here) but here’s a brief summary of what went wrong (or right, depending on your perspective): the Universe was trying to steer me in a different direction, but I hadn’t been listening. Because I was too attached to how *I* thought it should happen.

A lot of spiritual experts encourage people to emotionally invest in their goals, which is all well and good, but if we are *too* attached to our visions, we can overlook cues from our intuition that there might be a better way – or that what we want simply isn’t right for us at that point in our lives.

Lesson learned. Now when I set goals and intentions, I ask the Universe for help, then let them go. Your move, Universe.

Of course the Universe always responds to action (you should never be passive about your goals), but there’s only so far you can go before you’ve got to get out of your own way. Surrendering to the Universe is the only option – and the Universe is, after all, better at organising things than you are. 

This has worked brilliantly for me in recent weeks. One of my aims was to get a regular spiritual column in a publication. To solidify that intention, I focused on the euphoric feeling of having such a gig that would beautifully marry my two career streams of spiritual guidance and journalism (hint: the Universe loves it when we attach emotions to our intentions). I contacted a few editors, but heard nothing back. Then I pretty much forgot about it. I didn’t give up, I just knew there was nothing more I could do to bring the column into being. I knew that if it was meant to happen, it would. 

And, almost 12 months later, it has.

A few weeks ago, a former co-worker put me in touch with a commissioning editor who was looking for a monthly spiritual column on her magazine’s website. After some discussions, we arrived at a formula, I wrote my first piece, and it’s just gone live. I’m thrilled. I’m aware that it might not work out long-term... but then again, it just might. Either way, I’m happy. Because as much as I wanted this opportunity and am enjoying it, I didn’t *need* it.

That’s the best way I can sum up non-attachment: wanting but not needing. It’s a pretty helpful strategy to keep in mind. Except for when it comes to nachos, which I both want and need on the reg, obviously.

Three things I learned in 2016

I could have written a post about how well I met (or didn’t, as the case may be) the goals I set in early January, but I doubt my yoga attendance record or attempts to address my tendency for lateness are of much interest to anyone but me. What I’m writing about, instead, is what I’ve learned this year. Because the truth is, the challenges are always more interesting than the wins (right? right?).

Here goes.

Lesson 1: There is no one thing that makes everything perfect

In theory, I already knew this. But I had to experience it again to really understand it. Allow me to explain.

For years I’ve been banging on about how finding a partner is not a magic formula for happiness and purpose, as it’s our sacred responsibility to create these for ourselves. Even though I believed this devoutly, there was still a part of me that believed love would somehow cause some deep transformation that would result in me becoming a better, more confident, altogether more complete person. So when I found myself in a relationship this year, for the first time in many years, guess what happened? Nothing.

I mean, lots of stuff *did* happen – don’t get me wrong, loving someone and being loved in return is wonderful and deeply satisfying, and I am very happy – but it turns out I am still the same person as I was before I met him. I’m still battling insecurities, afraid of my own inadequacy and struggling to find my way in the world. 

Without realising it, I had been looking for the one thing that would make everything perfect. That’s a pretty familiar MO for me, actually. Over the years such searches have included: cutting out gluten (it will make me feel so much better!), taking overseas trips (it will help me find myself!) and lastly, meeting someone who would sense in me something special, something that I wanted so badly to be there… and was terrified was not.

A relationship, it turns out, does not so much fill the gaps in yourself as much as expose new ones. This is as true about love as it is about losing weight and getting a new job. Changing yourself has little to do with changing your circumstances, and significantly more to do with changing your thoughts and beliefs. And gratitude, always gratitude. There is no one thing, and there is no perfect. The best work I’ve done in terms of my personal growth, this year and all years, had nothing to do with any other human. And that’s as it should be.

Lesson 2: It’s OK if people don’t share my opinions or beliefs

I don’t know when or how this happened, but sometime during the year I stopped giving a fuck about how people responded to what I do. I used to avoid discussing One Grounded Angel, fearing the disapproval of others. This did me an enormous disservice, and possibly also others who might have needed some of the messages I was passing on. I suspect this reticence to be seen diminished in direct proportion to my sureness about the value of the information I’m passing on.

Of course, the more ‘visible’ I became, the more I became exposed to criticism and negative opinions. My viewpoint on such matters has always been this: what other people believe in is none of my business. I won’t say it doesn’t upset me when people post messages telling me what I do is bullshit but I would like to think I’m better at not taking that personally. This is the mantra I intend to carry into 2017: I do not need the approval of people who do not approve of me (that’s a life lesson from George Michael, by the way).

Lesson 3: I have failed, but I am not a failure

I wrote about this at length in a June blog post (read it here) so I’ll keep this to a brief summary. I had to change tack halfway through the year, as my reiki practice rooms failed to attract enough clients to be profitable. This stung. I felt personally inadequate, as if this lack of success were an indictment on my own worthiness. It took a period of healing and gradual acceptance for me to realise that this was not the case. This failure does not make me a failure.

Everything has played out exactly as it was supposed to. I don’t know why just yet, and maybe I never will, but I do know that venture was not meant to be. And that must mean something better is coming.

2017, I’m ready.

Rising up when it all falls apart – the difference between failing and being a failure

This week I will hand back the keys to the practice where I’ve been offering reiki treatments. Long-time readers of my blog may remember that 12 months ago, I took a massive leap of faith and committed to a one-year lease on a room at a health and wellbeing practice here in Sydney. I planned to offer reiki treatments two days a week (read that blog post here), and hoped that I could grow a client base and eventually make this, combined with my angel card reading service, a career alternative. It was a big financial risk… and it has not, unfortunately, paid off. The very worst result that could have happened – the one I was most afraid of – has indeed happened. And I’m OK with that. Now.

For a long time I was not OK. In February it became apparent that my business was not working. That, on top of a (temporary but prolonged) drought in my primary source of income, plunged me into a state of despair... not to mention debt.

When I realised there was nothing I could do but watch money flow down the drain until my commercial lease ran out, the sense of disappointment was immense. I had lovingly stacked my hopes and dreams, along with significant sums of money, into this business, and it had not worked. I had wholeheartedly trusted that having faith was enough to make my dreams come true... and I was wrong. I couldn’t not see this failure as an indictment on my skills and my worth. The failure of my business felt like proof that I was a failure as a person. My inner bully’s cries of “I knew you’d fuck it up!” were deafening.

Business leaders around the world consistently describe the experience of losing everything as integral to shaping their success. JK Rowling famously had her Harry Potter manuscripts rejected 12 times. “I was the biggest failure I knew,” she said. When Bloomsbury Publishing took a punt and printed her first three books, it warned her not to quit her day job. As we all know, Joanne went on to achieve stratospheric levels of success. Yet on 12 previous occasions, she had failed. It was not her moment to shine… until it was. The Universe has a schedule all its own.

Failure is a blistering, heavy word. The most unhelpful thing anyone said to me when I was coming to realise things were not turning out as I’d hoped was: “Just think positive – it’ll all work out.” Please, never say this to someone going through a significant challenge. It implies they’re not trying hard enough, that a lack of faith is the cause of their struggle and that getting what they want is a mere case of wishing for it (a wildly inaccurate interpretation of the law of attraction). So, so unhelpful.

What *was* helpful for me as I licked my wounds was reframing the situation. There’s a difference between failing and being a failure. The former means I haven’t had success yet; the latter indicates I am flawed on a personal level. Once I understood the distinction between the two – and stopped beating myself up – I found my way to a space of acceptance. Instead of seeing myself as incompetent I was (eventually) able to depersonalise the experience, and recognise failure as a necessary step in my development. Brene Brown says: “Failure is an imperfect word because the minute you learn from it, it ceases to be a failure.” 

Although the Universe didn’t meet me halfway on this business plan, it did issue me with an invitation to grow. Learn from this, and you’ll become more resilient. Learn from this, and you’ll navigate future obstacles better. Learn from this, and new doors will open up to you, opportunities better than you could have scripted. The secret of life, as Paulo Coelho expressed so exquisitely in The Alchemist, is to fall down seven times and get up eight.

There are all sorts of reasons why my reiki practice likely didn’t fire. It could have been the wrong area. It could have been (and most likely was) simply the wrong timing. It was 100 per cent not lack of skills nor lack of effort on my part. I know that I could not have put anything more into that business. I have no regrets… now.

So when I take my certificates off the wall and push my business cards through the shredder, I will remember the difference between failing and being a failure. I will remind myself that I am not defined or diminished by this disappointment. And as I let go of my expectations I will hold space for shiny new opportunities. 

Your move, Universe.

Confessions of a crap meditator

When my mother was a child, she enrolled in ballet lessons, full of enthusiasm… then quit after a month because they wouldn’t teach her how to dance Swan Lake. I’ve always loved this anecdote, not only because it brilliantly illustrates that self-righteous indignation particular to pre-teen girls, but also because I can understand her objection to pursuing an activity she didn’t immediately excel at.

Generally speaking, I go out of my way to avoid things I’m not good at – budgeting, walking in heels, samurai-sword fighting (admittedly this last one is not an everyday problem). But meditation has been the one thing I continue to do even though I fail at it again and again and again.

In a world which focuses on results, success and achievement, committing every day to doing something I have yet to improve at feels a little, well, pointless. But that’s exactly the point. 

My daily meditations go from 10 to 20 minutes. Approximately 45 seconds in, my attention starts to wander. I’ll be breathing slowly and deeply, feeling my body start to relax, then my mind will panic about not being in control. Then it stages a takeover bid. Is that rain outside? I need to renew my domain name soon. Did I ever reply to Mum’s text? What kind of weird-arse bird makes that sound? 

Here are some strategies I’ve employed at various points in a bid to stay focused on my practice: repeating mantras, letting go of my thoughts as soon as they appear (trying to let them simply pass), concentrating on each part of my body and letting it relax, using guided meditations. These are sometimes effective, sometimes not. I can proudly declare that I have been meditating almost every day for about three years and am just as crap today as the day I started. 

I’m telling you this because whenever I deliver a message from the angels about the need to meditate, nine times out of 10 I will get this response: ‘I’m no good at meditating’. I’m sure there are lots of holier-than-thou spiritual types who will tell you how good they are at meditating, but I’m a very realistic spiritual type. So here’s the truth: I’m no good at meditating. And this is not a reason not to continue with my practice. It’s actually an excellent reason TO do it. 

The philosophy of meditation is that there is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ meditation practice – it’s the process itself that matters. You’re discouraged from putting a judgment on the quality of the practice. It’s normal for thoughts to appear in your brain – in fact, it’s almost impossible to clear your mind of all thoughts – the trick is not to engage with those thoughts. If you can resist that, you’ll go deep and experience the level of calm that will melt your stress and change the shape of your day. Zen monk Shunryu Suzuki explains it as follows: “In [meditation] leave your front door and back door open. Let thoughts come and go. Just don’t serve them tea.”

The theory’s good, the practice, less so.

I have had some sublime moments while meditating. A few times I have felt myself lifting right out of my body. I had a sense of floating above in a divine light. It lasted mere seconds but I have never forgotten that feeling. 

I’ve also had very clear messages from my intuition while meditating that have proved immensely helpful in my life, which is a major reason I persevere with it, even though I am often frustrated by my tendency to lose focus and my frequent struggle to let go completely.

The inescapable truth is that even when I feel like I haven’t had a particularly beneficial meditation, I still feel better than I would have if I hadn’t meditated at all. I feel calmer, more centred and fractionally more powerful. Even wine can’t do that (although, sometimes it momentarily fools me into believing it can). 

If you’re struggling with meditation, feeling like you’re doing it wrong or that you’re just not spiritual enough, I feel you. But you’re going to have to come up with a better reason not to commit to this hugely powerful, transformative activity. In a loud, crazy-busy and confusing world, we all need periods of stillness like we never have before. Even when you lose, you’re actually winning. So keep trying, keep failing. You will be better for it. 

RELATED POSTS: Mind and matter – how meditation has changed my world 
Rocking my body. How meditation can affect your health on a deep level

I am scared of setting goals - because it means I have to try (and possibly fail)

Delta Goodrem sang that she was born to try, but sometimes I think I was born NOT to try.

For most of my life I have had a fear of failure bubbling under the surface that has kept me from committing to things. Which boils down to this limiting, and ultimately flawed, logic: if you don’t try, you can’t fail.

This unconscious belief came to the fore recently when Liz Gilbert espoused the value of creating a five-year plan. “If you don’t know where you wanna be in five years... you’re already there,” she wrote. I was at the hair salon so, with nothing better to do, I pulled out my ever-present notebook and started imagining how I wanted my life to look in five years. And after jotting down “have at least two dogs” and “have stayed in an ice hotel” I couldn’t think of anything.

Actually, that’s not true.

I thought of lots of other things I wanted, but I couldn’t write them down. Because writing them down would force me to commit to them. And that would mean I have to try to achieve them, running a high risk of failing.

“Writing down your goals causes a disturbance in your own soul – wakes you up, and makes you take notice of your own desires,” Liz wrote.

Well, yes, Liz. But I didn’t want to notice my own desires. Because then I would have to do something about them.

I didn’t want to write down the number of clients I’d like to have or the amount of days I’d like to work or the blog reach I’d like to be hitting. I particularly didn’t want to inscribe in words the healthy relationship I would love to be in but secretly fear I am not good enough for.

When I look back now, I can see this has been a pattern throughout my life. I have often resisted pitching big, challenging feature ideas to editors because I have been scared they’ll reject them, or, worse, commission them but I’ll do an abysmal job in bringing them to life. I have never bothered to try and save money for anything specific in case I can’t hit my target, proving myself to be completely inept.

This mindset may be something I picked up from my play-it-safe parents (this is not a criticism, BTW, merely an observation of their generation), who are, I think, proud but slightly baffled at my bravery/stupidity (my words, not theirs) in opening a reiki and angel-card-reading business, but mostly it’s due to my own subconscious desire to protect myself. I have realised that it’s not the humiliation of failure that I’m afraid of, it’s the suspicion that that failure would prove that I was not good enough to have the thing I wanted.

Some spiritual teachers are opposed to using the word “try” in goal-setting because they say it gives you licence to fail. Saying “I’m going to try and run a marathon” is less potent than “I’m going to run a marathon” because the first option makes it more acceptable to quit – after all, you only committed to trying. I can see this point, but for me there’s strength in the trying. For me, *that’s* the point of power. Because when I take action, I’ve committed.

What this five-year-plan exercise did show me was that, yes, I have a fear of failure that takes the form of not trying – but it’s not completely paralysing me. There is a major area of my life where I am doing OK on this front. My business is not going as well as I’d hoped, but I am still showing up. Because my will to make a success of this is stronger than my fear of it failing. Maybe focusing on that is the key to defeating my allergy to trying.

Now, to try that five-year-plan exercise again…

 To read Liz Gilbert's post about five-year plans, click here.