Author: Libby

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Loss of the wife

Divorce is about adaption. Adapting to a new way, a new life. Its an opportunity to redefine yourself. To become someone you don’t know yet. To do this means you need to let go of everything you thought you were. The roles, the masks, the identification and yes the dreams and ideals you had as a couple, as a wife and mother. This takes time, care, patience and self-compassion.

It took me many years to transcend the role of being his wife. It still pops up every now and then. Throwing me off centre.

I didn’t want to let go of being a wife. Here were my some of my challenges letting go of being ‘a wife’ early on. This was written originally in 2014 only one year into my healing journey. Perhaps you may resonant with some of my thoughts and feelings.

“Sad, depth, core pain.

I loved being a wife, I lived my whole life to be a wife.  I felt I was a good wife, supportive, caring, good homemaker, lover, companion and friend.  I did my best.  I sacrificed myself in order to support my husband doing/being who he needed to be.  I played my role dutifully, purposefully with deep sense of commitment, value and respect.  I was part of a team, who had a common purpose, vision and dream.

At some point the other part of the team resigned, left.

I thought that was who I as.  I was a wife and a mother.

As he prepared to leave the terror I experienced was predominately tarred by me thinking this is all I am.  If I don’t have a husband, I don’t exist anymore.  I am not a wife.  Terror.  Panic.  Obliterated.   No purpose.  No need to exist.

When he left, the world collapsed, my foundation dropped.  I did not have a husband.  Yet I still thought I was a wife.

I lived through this role for many months after he left. 

Until now.

Painfully, I realised this was happening.   I began to open up to the possibility that I was more than a wife.

As I allowed my sorrow, my tears, my sadness to drip further in I felt these internal tears drop onto a vault.  A vault that surrounded my essence.  It was locked tight.  Protected, guarded.  Never to be opened. 

Until now.

In order to survive, the vault had to open.  The cocoon around my core had to peel back, to evaporate to reveal who I really am.

It was surprisingly a relatively quick, graceful, process.

‘Her’ strengths will be channelled into other areas of expression.

She is loved, dearly respected, nurtured, cared for and revered.  I love her.  I really love her.

Such a beautiful, giving, sharing, wife.

Expression of self.  One expression.

It is time for her to rest now.

Ah, she can rest.

No responsibility to her husband anymore.

God I loved being a wife, I loved being his wife. 

Big loss, indescribable grief.

Then intensified by another woman.

Replaced.

Depth sense of un-lovability as a woman.

No longer sensual, attractive to the one who was my husband.

The wife is in so much pain, hurt, anguish which can drop into rage and the depths of despair.

Grief at what is, what will not be, what was.

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The Wounded Wife

‘She’ is a tricky one to manoeuvre, this wounded wife.  Constantly being projected onto, activated, judged and suppressed.  Yet playing out in any moment of disempowerment or fear.  ‘She’ sits in the ‘ocean of life’ touching all who hurt.  Latching on, plugging you in to this sea of wounding.  The collective pool of unresolved, unloved and rejected pain carried deep in the psyche.  Many have swum in here before you arrived, and many more will come.

Choosing to remove yourself takes a willingness to ignore the pull of, the force of the collective.  There will be no praise, no support to do this.  On your own you will be.

The female psyche has experienced much wounding, you choosing to heal your wounds and transmute your feelings and step out of the pool is a powerful process which leaves an imprint of love and hope for those that come after you.

Swim in the pool, move the waters, disperse the stagnation, loosen yourself, release these ties that bind.  Leave your mark.

‘She’ feels unloved, not valued, as if her life is given to others only to have it thrown back in her face.  Rejected, expired, forgotten.  All her time and effort – her life – given away without anyone seeing.  Seeing what she gave, what she lost and what she was doing it all for.  For the family.  A structure she built, valued and prized above all.  Yet now the structure is collapsing, she is left amongst the ruins.  Wondering.  Why? How? When? Did this occur. 

‘She’ panicked in the early stages, frantically trying to stop the deconstruct, to patch the cracks, to keep it up alive and healthy.  Then one day she stops, looks around and realises the damage is done, the futility of trying to stop the disintegration.  She sobs uncontrollably for her loss, the pain and sorrow.  Realising it has gone.  She sits still and looks around.  Tears roll down her cheeks.  Her most precious possession has gone.  It will take some time until she opens her eyes, willing to see her life, now.  To contemplate moving forward, to even consider what else could be.  The void in her,in her life is huge and terrifying.

‘She’ realises this cannot be rushed.  Steadily with care she will move once more, courageously she will begin to look for signs of life and feed this new creation.  The gap within her remains.  Out of sight, no one will see.  It will be carried deep within and slowly she will heal.  Her deep heart holds the scars; they cannot be removed.  She will love them as they remind her of what was, what she was and the family she had created, loved and revered. 

A gift from the Gods.

For this she feels blessed.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

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The threads of life

What free-form weaving has shown me about life

It is all about the foundation.  A steady, reliable and solid foundation enables you to create and build.  It lays the ground work upon which you grow.  Your foundation must be steady.  There is no room for cracks or a missed thread.  When weaving it is all about layer upon layer upon layer.  Each layer dependant upon the other to settle and become part of the foundation.  You can’t skip a row or decided half way to stop.  Each layer, each facet plays its part and must be in place before the other can commence.   There is no place for bells and whistles in the foundation.  Keep it clear.

As we take that within ourselves what is your foundation built upon?  Is it steady?  What is in it?  Review your foundation – your values, your aspirations, your alignment, your priorities.  What needs to change to enable your new life to be created upon.  Any outdated roles, beliefs, patterns and behaviours that should be reviewed?  It’s important to see what is going on in there and make the necessary modifications.

The interplay between horizontal and vertical.  Its easy to look at the weave and see nothing but horizontal rows of yarn interspersed.  What you don’t see is the vertical threads that enable the horizontal to be formed.  Known as the warp thread, it is wrapped around the loom horizontally tied diagonally across the back.   Without the warp thread, the weave cannot be woven.  There is a constant interplay between the vertical and horizontal, one needs the other.  There is no separation.  Remove one and it all falls apart. 

It’s the same with us, there is our vertical alignment from the earth at the soles of our feet all the way up and through to our connection to spirit through the top of our head.  For some this is an easy one to visual, to experience.  The other though is our horizontal alignment the direction we are heading, where we place ourselves, what was before and what is to come.  Horizontal and vertical, an interplay that forms our foundation.  The same with us, is there a constant flow between your connection to the earth and source?  Is this in tune with the direction you are heading?  Or is the direction you are heading out of alignment with you as source, as spirit?  The two need to be aligned and working harmoniously.

The weave reveals itself thread by thread.  You can’t get ahead of yourself.  It creates itself moment by moment.  It speaks to present-ness.  Full immersion is required in each weave.  It pulls you in.  The yarn thread through the needle, the needle in your hand, the only place is now, the immediate weave in front of you.  You can’t get ahead of yourself and start weaving up the top right, when the foundational layers haven’t been created.   Whilst you can have a sense, a vision of how you want it to be and work towards that you can really only work with the one next weave that is in front of you.  You must be open to this constantly changing, as you experience one colour of yarn next to another, one texture against another, the interplay between colour, texture and depth.  

Like life, you can have an ideal, a goal, a direction you are heading yet at the same time you can only work with what is here right now and be open, adaptable to changing what you work with and where it will take you.  Anything is possible in this space.  If you sense it, give it a go.  You can always change.  

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Life as a writing process

8am is a tad early for attending a lecture on campus at Uni.  It doesn’t help when it is a cold wintry morning and the traffic was busier than usual on the freeway.  My body was fatigued before it even started.  With warm tea in my travel cup I walked wearily to the lecture hall.  I love walking onto Campus and this is what gets me out of bed at 5.30am on these Tuesday mornings to be here on time and taking my seat.  Ready to learn, expand my awareness and prioritise me.

Photo by Nick Morrison on Unsplash

I was doing my best to wake my weary brain, listen to the lecturer, write notes and take in what he was sharing.   This lecture is for the unit I am undertaking on Creative Writing.  I am not overly creative at 8am in the morning, so I was simply trying to keep up in a logical manner.  Listen, scribe.  Listen scribe.   I could read it back later this I knew.  Later I could re-read, highlight notes and begin to integrate what he was sharing.  It’s a process that works for me.

This morning though as I was frantically scribing, something within me (not my head) was pulling it all together like a puzzle.  What was appearing in my mind’s eye was a blueprint for living. 

What was being shared about the writing process could be approached as a way to live.

Could I ‘write’ my life, not so much as with a pen and paper (although I do feel there is something in that to explore) was the process for writing a way to approach life?  Quite delicious to ponder. 

Here are some of the pearls shared that morning:

  • Writing is a messy business, don’t look for the neat and tidy.  One must surrender to the creative force and let those words come out.  It can’t be predetermined.  Neither can life.  Life gets messy.  Be okay with that.     
  • Writing isn’t done in one straight line.  The plot becomes clearer through the writing process.  It’s not all known from the first word you written.  Neither is life.  Whilst we may head towards  a goal or desired outcome, we will experience obstacles that lead us down other paths.   Go on the path you are on, stop wishing you were on another one.  
  • Writing is of chaos to order.     You have to get in it and keep moving, keep typing or writing and the way becomes clearer.  Life can’t be planned.  As much as we want to be in control.  The nature of life is not. 
  • One must be completely present in the now moment, to be the open channel for the words to appear, for the story to be birthed.  Same with life.  Be fully present where you are.  Accept where you are.  Live here.  
  • Writing keeps moving.  Writing begets writing.  You can’t think about it.  You need to get pen to paper, or your fingers moving on the key board.   Creativity requires movement.  Life is of movement.  As much as we may want to stay put, hide or contract when its gets hard and uncomfortable we need to keep moving. 
  • Progress is seen retrospectively with writing.  I feel this is true to the experience of life.  It is important to review, to reflect and see where we have come from, what we have moved through and overcome.  Celebrate where we are now. 
  • And this most delicious piece of advice write towards what I don’t know.  What a great way to engage with life.   Live towards the life that I don’t know.  Lean into it, be curious about where it takes me, whilst I can set a course a particular direction.  It’s important to be open to possibilities.
  • Finally; to write, we must show up.  How true for life.  Are you in the drivers seat?  Or are you a passenger?

Lectures start back this week, so whilst it is possible I will begrudge the alarm going off at 5.30am I am curious to be placed once more in an environment that feeds my soul and nourishing my mind.   

How could you ‘write’ your life?

Thanks to my lecturer Alan Hancock.

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The interconnectedness of all that is

Musings on the totality of experience ancestral, spiritual and physical

As I have mentioned before I am not a scientist, nor have any bent towards this field.   And there is this incessant preference in the world for things to be validated or proved before they can be accepted as being ‘real’ or ‘true’.  This way has been in direct contrast to what my own internal knowing is.  I don’t need to gather scientific evidence to be in awe of the land, to feel love and the connectedness to the Planet.  My own personal experience is all I need. This conflict between the world I was presented with as a child and the one I intrinsically knew is one I have lived with for many years.  My own inner knowing of who I am and my alignment to living a spiritually centered life doesn’t operate in absolutes.   The more I journeyed along the spiritual path the more I realized how foreign my family was to me.  I didn’t belong here.  Disorienting.  I have become very astute at gauging in conversation if others are of the same ‘bent’, and if not learning how to keep me safe.  

I am not interested in defending who I am or even in converting other.  Its for all to be respected.  Finding other who embraces a spiritual centered life is rare and a kindred spirit is a gift.  Out of self preservation I have kept me close within.  I learned early on in my childhood that who I was intrinsically didn’t fit into the family way.  Attempts to express myself resulted in being ostracized and misunderstood.  As out of a misguided love lens they molded me into someone who fitted what they were and needed.  I learned to tow the line in order to feel safe and loved. 

Now over 40 years on, its taking heaps loud of courage to begin to speak and share of me to a wider audience.   Ironically it is the voice of spirit deep within that provided the nudge.  I spent many years ignoring her delicate nudges to be who I am, to express me and my gifts so much to the point that she is now like a tsunami bearing down on me that can no longer be ignored.  Its like that.  Love has many ways. Ignore long enough and you will be placed in a situation where you must act.

Spirituality is not religion.  Often the two get intertwined.

A spiritual life is one embraced with the knowing that we are more than our physical body.

It’s experiencing an interconnectedness with all that is.  It’s knowing in essence, we are eternal, there is a life force within us that will continue beyond this embodiment.  That there is an indwelling soul who seeks life experiences to learn, to grow, to heal and integrate for its own evolutionary growth.   From this perspective everything that happens in our life, is not so much ‘to’ us but ‘for’ us.  We draw towards us the experience that will assist us to grow and heal.  It’s about taking our life in and transforming it into love.  Nothing is by chance.  It’s not about being punished.  It’s about being given an opportunity to become more of who we truly are.

Ones perspective on life becomes larger.   Our lens expanded and clearer. 

We realize the potential in every moment.

There is a constant reflection for us. 

However, when science does catch up with the spiritual way imagine my hearts delight!

This chance occurrence happened for me when I came across epigenetics and transgenerational trauma.  My heart skipped a beat.  Here was a spiritual concept being proven through science.  That who I am here and now is the result of what has come before me.  This life time is not in isolation.  Its connected.  That what I am experiencing in this life is not random but an opportunity to heal residue trauma.  Its about becoming aware of the influence your genetics can have yet not being solely defined by it.  Its about hope of healing the pain you feel, transmuting it and in doing so have a positive healing impact on your life and for those to come after you.  That the way I defaulted to deal with the loss and pain associated with divorce and grief was to some degree encoded within my genetics.  That the women who came before me have shaped who I am today.    Any unresolved trauma lies in wait in our genes and can be activated down the line waiting to be addressed.  And that perhaps whilst I inherited a predisposition to deal with life in a particular way, they also have a story to share and that there is a power within that story.   A story that provides me with insight as to how they overcame personal challenges, it provides me with hope that I too can overcome and that their strength and resilience runs through me. 

In learning of their story, I begin to see a correlation.  I realize I am not alone.  That these women who came before me are imparting wisdom too. 

Its appreciating the totality of who I am and choosing what parts to continue and what needs to be transmuted and let go off here and know.  Its recognizing that my soul seeks this integration.  Its relating with the past in a healthy way and no longer being defined by it.   

Hope lies in our ability to know we are always more then our current experience.  That change is the one constant and that whilst change is scary it is change that frees us.

Whilst many may not see it that way, my heart knew.  I felt enraptured and full of hope that what I had felt and experience through some of my darkest moments did have some evidence to support it.  That I wasn’t just going mad but perhaps, just perhaps my deepest personal challenges was not just ‘me ‘ into but that there was a link a connection to all the women before me.

Hope where there was none.

Quite often in my darkest moments, when all hope was lost and I found myself on the bathroom floor curled up in a fetal position on the cold tiles there was something deeper in, beyond the human pain.  It was reaching it that was the challenge.  Yet always it was there. I just had to ride out the human anguish and suffering long enough for her to be heard.

Who was she though? Where did this voice come from?  The one that said “you will be okay”, the one that ethereally brushed my brow and told me to slowly get up.

Where did this nudge come from? 

It was as if a collective force scooped me up and help me to land on my feet.  ‘they’ encouraged me to take one step, then another, then another. 

There was a connection deep out of sight that I felt but could not explain.  And that is okay.  A connection that healed, loved and supported. 

Written by Libby Kinna 2019

#libbykinna #enlightenedtraveller

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Why I’m an ancestral searcher

Ancestry.com provided me with a sense of belonging at a time in my life within which this was missing. Recently divorced, my adult kids transitioning into adulthood, my identity smashed; what I belonged to, my family, home and roles as a wife and mum were gone.

In a massive process of re-identification – who and what I identified as was required. Often painful and disorienting the need to belong became paramount. Through belonging I could begin to anchor my roots, connect, docking station – slowly begin to anchor to spread my roots in the newly turned soil.

Belonging is a basic human need. Only through its absence did I experience this. But what and who do we belong to? Ultimately we reach a point where the truest sense of belonging is to oneself. Deep within we belong to our core, our centre, our conduit as spirit. Until such time that sense of belonging to external may be necessary.

For me tracking back through my ancestral lineage provided a belonging not only to people but place.

This sense of place, belonging to, I soon realised was important for me. To be connected to land and place through time became a stepping stone for my true connection to self. To become aware of sensations of Googling place of continents far away over oceans to lands not seen, showed me the eternal aspect of self. Some places were so familiar I could smell the air and feel the earth under my feet from sitting at my desk. Names of places such as Dunkeld, Perth… suddenly I was transported to other times. The familiarity soothing, a reminder of previous life times. ‘I’ as spirit had traversed these lands. I belong ‘there’ and I do ‘here’, all co-existing simultaneously.

So gently through researching I came to know that I indeed belong to many places, through experiences and that the imprint of experience is carried within. I belong where I am.

Ancestral searching for me played a key role in re-identification, providing a sense of belonging to place and ultimately self.

#libbykinna

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The light that never dies

Musings on why we are our ultimate travel destination

I am not a scientist or would even attest to having a predisposition to the science and math fields.  Basic biology still stumps me yet I have enough knowledge to understand my physical body, what it needs and how it operates.  I appreciate and value it as without it I simply would not exist. I don’t need to know the finer inner workings in order to appreciate it.

I am not an astrophysics either yet that doesn’t stop me from being in awe of the Universe.  I marvel at the beauty of the planet, respect her and understand my place within it.  How easy it is as humans to think we are the ones in control.  Foolish and contrite.  We are so miniscule on the universal scale.  We are like ants within the greater scheme of life.  This life just one within the universal flows.  How grandiose that we think we the most singular important factor.  In a world engulfed with the taking of selfies and self focus catapulted by the wave of social media we are loosing ourselves.  So busy are we worrying about how we look that we don’t actually stop and look at where we are.  So busy living life through a mobile phone lens we become detached from the actual experience.  We become a 3rd party to the fact.  Too focused on capturing a moment instead of living it.

But I digress.

I am comfortable in an experience without needing to understand it.

I take delight in feeling the sand between my toes and navigating the crashes of the waves as I walk along the beach.

I am in awe of the sun setting and the splashes of light that cover the sky.

I feel the embrace of the moon in the darkest of night skies.

There is a connectedness that transcend time.

I feel it all yet I don’t need to understand it mentally.

Some things you just know.  It’s a knowing deep within.  Its not a head thing.  In fact, the head can get it in the way.

Yet in a world that prizes the intellect and seeks answers and absolutes and validation its challenging to simply be with what is, to take comfort in your own knowing and to live a life following the inner guidance.

In an environment where something must be proved to be right or real or true, we are loosing the magic.   The magic of embracing our uniqueness and the courage to bring that forth. 

We are conditioned to be part of a pack. 

Squashing our creativity, our life force and struggling against the increasing tides of uniformity.

I am not sure where all this is coming from or where its going.  I was going to write on transgenerational trauma but it seems we are down another path.  Go with it. Allow.  Surrender.

I feel as an infant, even as far back as in-utero I was aware that I was connected to something far greater then this tiny little physical body.   It was such a huge shock to experience the world I was born into.  I became aware of feeling vulnerable, scared and at the mercy of those whom were my family.   I wanted to scream.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to go back.  Back to the love.  I was trapped.  I was pissed off and at the hands of other.  My spark of light began to dim.  The ideology of coming forth and being a way shower of love and connectedness on this planet became erased. 

At key points through my infancy I remember purely out of the need for physical survival, to dim my light.  To surrender to them.  The pain that endured from me attempting to speak and express who I was, was too much for my body.  The risk was too high.  I did what I had to do.  I became what they wanted and needed me to be.  So they were happy so that they could give me the love they were capable of providing.  I morphed into their rendition of a good girl.  I became subservient, amiable.  Every single choice in becoming this suffocated myself further.   Deeper and deeper out of sight out of reach ‘I’ disappeared.  Until that spark of unique light went out.  Disconnection had occurred.  Numbness many say is the absence of feeling.  Trust me numb is a feeling.  It effects your nervous system, your mental acumen, your ability to relate with other authentically and it colours your world into many shades of grey. 

I was numb and remained that way until life events occurred that shook me from my slumber.

Disorienting.  To be woken from a slumber you have lived in for over 30 years.  

Some never wake up.

Some, like myself do.

There is work to be done.  Our lights must shine once more.  We must address the pain hidden beneath the numb.  Healing needs to occur.  Realignment needs to commence.   Reconnection to our true essence, to that spark of light and love of which we are.

Unbecoming all that we thought we were.

Its not blissy.  But the rewards are plentiful. 

Correct identification that we are more then the human physical body.  We have a body but we are not our body.  Within is our spark, our eternal essence, spirit.   A powerfully loving life force that propels us ever forward.  The light that never dies.  As water is a source of life to our body, spirit is the eternal source.   Seeking to experience all of life expressions.  In various places and time. 

Residing deep within us, in our core, our centre ‘she’ lies.  Always present.  Patiently waiting.  Welcoming communion.  Navigating. Championing. 

In the quiet you will hear.  Through the stillness you will feel.  In the depths of your existence you will know.

Its reaching that still point within after years of covering it up that the task at hand.

Its unhooking yourself from patterns that no longer serve.

Reviewing beliefs, should’s, ought’s and ought not’s to see if they are a true reflection of your own know.

Its having the courage to review you in your life.  What resonates now?  What doesn’t?

Its listening to the voices in your head – who do you hear? What are they saying?

Its clearing out the emotional baggage.

Its prioritizing self care.

Its becoming selfless, centered in self, not self-centered.

Its reorienting your life expression to one fuelled through wonder, curiosity.

It’s embracing your past and not running from it.

It’s owning your story yet no longer being defined by it

It’s healing the wounds and transforming them into love.

It’s courageously every day keeping your flame alive.

It’s feeding your life source.

It’s being a way shower and the best version of yourself possible.

It’s about never forgetting who you truly are.

It’s leaving leaving a trail of love on this Planet, of which we came. 

It’s connection to self, to land and Planet.

Written by Libby Kinna 2019

#libbykinna #enlightenedtraveller

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The empty suitcase

the empty suitcase

This was the part she dreaded. 

She felt the fear rising from the pit of her stomach.  Thud! It landed in her throat.  For a split second she couldn’t breath.  Fear disabling air from entering her lungs.    Air unable to enter her lungs.  Constriction.

“Get a grip” she scolds herself.  “It’s not as if we’re never coming back”. 

The empty suitcase lay there on the floor.  Open. Empty.  Terrifying.

“Argh!”

Around it lay pile upon pile of clothes.  Neat and tidy.  Waiting.

They could be waiting a while. 

It’s a common pattern.  The joy and delight for Beth always comes in the planning and pulling it all together.   Then slowly as the days to departing begin to creep upon her, so to the dread.  Like the slightest wisp of air against her check.  Apt at keeping herself busy she is the mastermind at distraction.  Years of well tuned practice has ensured Beth the ability to distract herself when the slightest tremor of fear appears.  Best to ignore it and get on with things, the motto.  Well trained as a child to dismiss her feelings.  Now however she has been slowly learning that this is not so wise and definitely not healthy.  Its been taking time but slowly and patiently she has been changing her relationship with her feelings.  Instead of clamping then down tight, like an airtight lid on a container, she is now allowing them to be.  Practice.

However there are many times when she doesn’t catch them, like now. 

“Argh geez” she exasperates.

“I don’t understand my problem”. 

“I should be enjoying this.  It should be exciting. I should be revelling in it. But I am not.

For this she felt bad.  Ungrateful.  Which only compounds her experience.

“Okay take a deep breath”

“We’ve got this”

She put her hands on her stomach and consciously takes a slow deep breath.  And waited.  Waited for her hands to rise slowly suggesting the air had reached her diaphragm .

Nothing. 

“Okay this will take some time”.

Once more she took a deep breath and allowed the throat to relax.  Air began to trickle down, like rain on a window.  

Not quite to the stomach but closer.

“Once more” she whispered to herself.

She closed her lies and allowed herself to lie on her bed, amongst the pile of clothes.  Resting her hands gently on her tummy she took a slow deep breath. 

This time her hands raised slightly.  She could feel the movement.  A sign of life.  Without force, yet with consciousness, she focussed on her breath.  Each inhale and exhale resulting in a deepening connection with herself.  Expansion. 

Her throat now relaxed, her heart rate slower Beth welcomes the release. 

Her bed a welcome place of refuge.

She feels the warmth of the sheets under her body and the comfort of the pillows for her weary head.

Love would lay here.

So she does.

She allows herself to doze off.

When she awakens a shift has occurred.  A common experience for Beth.  Sleep a way to integrate and heal.

“Okay so lets have another go”.

This time paying attention to what is going on within her, Beth looks at the empty suitcase.

“Why do you frighten me?”

She looks at the clothes surrounding it.  Waiting patiently.

“What if I get you wrong? What if I pack you but you work out not be right?”

“What if I don’t pack you and wish I had?”

The pressure was rising once more.

“What if you are all I will ever have?”

“What if something happens and everything I ever own will be what I choose to put in you?”

A quiver in her heart, a welcome sign that she was on the verge of learning something else about herself, that had previously been out of sight.  She knows not to push it.  Simply breathe, allow the feeling to move and explore what comes.

“And what if what is in the suitcase is all I will ever have?”  Beth asks herself.

“I can’t pack up my life.  I don’t want to.  I have done this before been forced to pack my life into one suitcase and flee.  Not in this lifetime. Yet the feeling still sits in the recesses of her soul. Don’t make me do this again. Please.  It hurts.  Deciding what to take.  All I see is what I am leaving behind.   More is left than taken.  How can I do this again?”

Packing up my life in a suitcase  pressured to make the right decisions in a split second.  No I won’t let you do this again.  You must stop. 

“Oh my, my precious one.  Is this how you feel?  Oh goodness”. 

Beth embraced herself to soothe this wounded one within her.  “I had no idea”.

“Sorry”.

“This is not what is happening here and now”.

“I feel your terror however it is not now.  Come and rest, allow these feelings to come into my heart, so together we heal.  Our heart”.

Gently, gently now.  She will tread.

Aware of this unlocked trauma within her Beth will undertake this process with care.  Each item she picks up and places into her suitcase will be done with gratitude and love. 

She will be gentle and kind.  Knowing that when she reaches her destination if she needs anything she hasn’t packed she will be able to find a solution.

Packing her clothes, she realises, is a symbol of packing up who she is now.   Putting who she is in a suitcase as she departs.  She nows within this however, that what she unpacks at the other end will most likely be a different being to the one who departed.   Who boards the plane will be transcended by the one who returns. 

For this my love is the joy of travel.  Transformation.  Expansion.  Growth.

Short creative fiction by Libby Kinna 2019

#libbykinna #enlightenedtraveller

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“a table for one please”

Changing my solo dining experience

One cold blistery early March evening I checked into this tiny little hotel ‘The Bosville’ in Portree, Isle of Skye.  From the outside it was like every other building in the street. Only one thing differentiated it.  There was a soothing light emanating from the tiny windows.  It was a welcome sight after the long day journeying through from the Scottish lowlands into the highlands, weaving through Glencoe  and finally ‘over the bridge to Skye’. 

Whilst the sun had come with me most of the day, the clouds had rolled in later in the afternoon and the rain with them.  I was weary, wet and hungry.

Dulse & Brose Restaurant, Portree, Isle of Skye 2019
Dulse & Brose Restaurant, Portree, Isle of Skye 2019

In anticipation of the later than usual arrival, I had rung earlier and booked a reservation for one in the restaurant ‘Dulse & Brose’.    A wise choice as time was to reveal.

I have always been challenged dining out alone.   At home its an easy one to avoid.  I just didn’t do it. However, when you travel it is often necessary to do.  Whilst the room service menu is convenient the options soon run out.  There is only so many times you can have a BLT or burger! 

At the beginning, dining out in the first hotel was confronting.  I was often placed in the corner and it felt like the waiters weren’t quite sure what to do with me.  I was very aware of how they were about me being there alone.  Then there is the judgments and pity often projected from others. In fact, I feel this is the greatest challenge; managing and trying to not be impacted by others thoughts of me and perhaps the stories they were making up around me being alone.  Combined with this were the stories I was playing in my own mind! 

In amongst all of this how is one meant to enjoy one’s meal?

A new experience awaits…

'a table for one', Dulse & Brose, The Bosville, Isle of Skye - March 2019
‘a table for one’, Dulse & Brose, The Bosville, Isle of Skye – March 2019

Greeting me in the small intimate restaurant was such warmth.  My body relaxed and my soul sighed.  The warmth oozed from the staff, to the music playing, the soft candles, rustic yet comfy table and chairs and the dimmed lights.  I was led to my table.  It was not hidden in the corner, but beautifully placed at the window, looking out over the bay as the sun settled for the night.  It was picturesque and prime restaurant position. 

I felt welcomed and valued.   Then to my delight the table was set for one person.  Not two, but one.  They had previously removed the second setting and in its place a small vase with flowers and a lit candle had been placed.  I felt cared for.  I had not experienced this before. Such a delicious experience.  

I didn’t feel like I was taking up space or not wanted (which often is the case).  The staff struck up a delightful conversation with me, which was so nice.  My food was mouth watering and presented with care.  It set me up for a relaxing and rejuvenating evening in my cosy room.

'The Bosville', Portree, Isle of Skye - April 2019
‘The Bosville’, Portree, Isle of Skye – April 2019

I had no hesitation when I booked ‘a table for one’ the following night.  I knew I was in kind hands. What I took with me from that experience was to ask in future moments to have the second setting removed.  It made so much difference as I continued my travels.  Staff where happy to do it.  “Ask and you shall receive”.

Along the way I also began to take a notebook and pen with me so I could write out my reflections of the day.  I made my dining out experience about me 100%.  Instead of worrying about what other was thinking, I used it to nourish my body and soul.  

One small action of setting the table for one, by the staff in ‘The Bosville’ made such a huge impact on how I saw and related with myself. 

It showed me that being alone does not mean second best.  It does not mean I am less worthy of experiencing a beautiful dining moment. 

That I can take up space and I matter.

www.bosvillehotel.co.uk

www.dulsebrose.co.uk

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Travel as a transitional process

Travel is a powerful way to mark transition.

All we need to do is look at honeymoons that newly weds embark upon. It’s an opportunity for them to transition from living two single lives into a new one of union. Of taking time away from family and friends to be alone just the two of them. A time of deepening communion and laying a foundation for a new life.

hilltop town of Todi, Umbria Region, Italy 2015

The experience of a ‘gap year’ is traditionally used by school leavers to transition from high school to young adulthood. Grey nomads hit the road with their caravans in tow as they move from working life into retirement.

For me, my trip to Italy in 2015 marked a transitional process from being married to divorced. Two years after my husband and I separated I had saved enough to take myself for a few weeks to travel through Italy. My first overseas trip alone. It was scary in many moments yet as the days progressed I settled into myself in a whole new way. Its a beautiful world regardless of what one is going through personally.

In a somewhat interesting Universal play out my divorce papers were finalised in the courts whilst I was away. I left married and arrived back into the country divorced. The Universe leaving her mark on the importance of this trip.

I feel undertaking a travel journey during or following a separation and/or divorce can be a beautiful and healing process. The opportunity to take self away facilitates a transformative journey enabling one to reconnect with self in a whole new way. It enables the transition from ‘us’ to ‘I’.