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When your friend shares with you in an email that a special practice to do at this turn of season time is to spend a little time thinking of all the accomplishments and growth experienced over this past year . . .

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I turned to this rose filled page I’d been saving for a time I’d know it was right to use it. I began to write the phrase my dear friend invited me to be with . . .

“I am proud of myself that…. “

I had no idea it would open a little flood gate and tears would spill out of my eyes, I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to answer this . . .

I realised again how I give so much time to noticing what I’m not doing enough of, how my business isn’t flourishing in the way I think it’s meant to, and it equates to so much focus on not enoughness that it was actually confronting to ask myself, honestly,

What have I done this year that I am proud of?

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I’m not sure it’s important to share here what I wrote, what seems most pressing is how it made me feel. I wondered how many other of my friends and connections do this same dance of scarcity.

I am often reminded of the importance of self kindness, I’ve made it my life’s work to be kind to this self I show up as for this life journey.

I was raised in a religion that told me I was worthless without God in the way they wanted me to believe in ‘him’, and now as a 48 year old woman I have come to different conclusions about this God thing and currently believe that we are all part of the Source of life having a human experience, but no less connected to the One than the Pope, Buddha, Jesus or Anyone. I don’t care much for arguing this point of view, this is my page, I get to say whatever I like. I also can’t be bothered to argue for another’s limitations.

This …. this thing… this deeply woven, skein of a belief that holds the note I’m not enough, is really effing toxic.

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Little dd – inner child expressions of wisdom and whimsy by Denise Daffara

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If you’re curious as to what I realised was the thing I was most proud of this year. . .

I’m proud of myself that . . . I was able to be present with my dear Mummah at the time of her death, and now I am learning a new way to live. More real, and more true.

and it hurts sometimes, and like I keep mentioning from time to time (because I’m still learning it) is; to hurt is part of life, to live a full, wide and deep life I must go through those times to discover what is hidden beneath the layers.

Layers I have covered things with

Layers that were tucked in for generations of covering, nothing to see here

Layers of the onion that keep peeling off,

you know… we don’t have a bottomless coffee in this life

we have a bloody never peeled onion.

 

Yours Curiously,

Denise xo

 

 

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