Heart riffin’ and how to ‘find’ your voice.


The need to be liked is human freakin’ nature,  but the real, actual truth o’ the matter is, what other people think of us, is none of our bloody business. For ages, I worried about posting about my mumma’s illness publicly because I thought my ability to work would be judged, when I talked about spirituality, I worried about being seen as ‘fluffy’ by the super spiritual, and being seen as ‘woo-woo’  by the muggles o’ the world, the worry was relentless, time-consuming and all encompassing. It diluted my words, tapered my truth and ultimately served no one,  least of all me. 

If worrying about what people think of us is a  limiting cage of our own making, telling our truth is the key to setting us free.

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Telling your truth

There was a time when I said, and wrote, what I thought people wanted to hear.

Because sometimes, it’s easier to simply keep quiet, not rock the boat, to keep the peace, right?

I spoke out recently about something I was NOT cool about. Someone’s behaviour did NOT sit well with me. Turns out that I’m not the only person who doesn’t dig this person’s attitude and behaviour, but it seems that before now, it’s been easier for others to simply accept this person’s attitude and behaviour and laugh it off.

Except, when you’re a girl who’s living your truth, standing totally in your SHE power, if something doesn’t sit well, you speak up.

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Writer Girl Diaries: We’ve set a date

When you know, you know.

The book ideas I’ve been flirting with over the last month have now become ONE book idea.
One that I freakin’ love and adore.
One that I first started working on last year but like the magpie-girl that I am, got wooed by other bright and shiny ideas, except none of them were ever as good as THIS one.
This one is a bit big and awesome-y.

I declared my big awesome-y idea to a g-friend. Now, talking brand-spankin’-new ideas with people is a risky business, that’s unless that person is Amy Palko, who is a magick-making goddess. When I declared with a li’l nervy croak in my voice, ‘so, this new book? It’s going to be like..(insert the stupidly huge book I compared it to here) but for gutsy, go-for-it girls.‘ She hollered and told me to totally own it.

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Real Self Care: What’s your body’s story?

If my body could tell you it’s story, it would go a li’l something like this:

So, if you didn’t know already, she digs on me.

She likes how I curve at her hip, she likes how I roll her flesh into a chubby buddha belly, she likes how pretty I look with ink splashed on me, she likes how I rock an accessory. Most of all, she likes that she can reside in me, without apology.

You see, I’ve always been a ‘big girl’ body, but for the most part of her residence in it, she’s made apologies for it.
She’s felt like we were taking up too much space, that there was too much of us, and for the longest time, she saw herself as a completely separate entity from me.
Our relationship sucked.

It’s true. My body and I simply didn’t get along.

That was BY. Before Yoga.
Enter Yoga, stage left in all it’s freakin’ awesomeness as the game changer. The life enhancer.

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You are stronger than you know

There are some things in life you just don’t want to do, like bump into an ex when you’re wearing your jogging pants, no make up and unwashed hair, pay a huge-ass tax bill, or give your dying mumma a strip wash.

Yet I have done all bloody three.

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Writer-girl Diaries: it’s not you, it’s me.

So, the book and I officially messed up the sheets.

Except, it wasn’t as good as I’d thought it was be. We tried a couple of times, different positions, phrasings, but, I just wasn’t feeling it.

‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ I said. ‘Another time, another place and maybe this will work.’

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Because you’re worth it. Cue hair swish.

Minerva and I getting intimate. We’re writing a book together, y’know.

I’ve got a new Mac.

She’s all kinds o’ pretty. She’s pimped out with a light up keyboard and swanky retina screen. I have named her Minerva, coz she’s a freakin’ goddess.

Over the last couple o’ years, I’ve become a li’l less obsessed with owning shiz – apart from books and shoes, obv. – so, when my previous Mac ‘puter, Mojo, started working on go-slow, I got a li’l pissed, but I ignored it. When it started shutting down of it’s own accord and making some crazy-assed whirring noise, I’d shake my fist at it in a ‘why I oughtaaa…’ fashion, but I put up with it. When it kept shutting down mid-edit, not auto saving my work and losing me hours of work, I swore, a LOT, threatened to chuck it out o’ the window, and had to admit that maybe it was time for another ‘puter.

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The Writer-girl Diaries: I’m dating…my book.

I, Lisa Lister, am officially writing my next book and, for some crazy freakin’ reason, I’m sharing the WHOLE process right here, every other Friday, in Writer Girl Diaries.

Usually I wait for the stars to align, divine intervention, a call from the muses that I can no longer ignore, basically anything that means I don’t have to make the first move. But this book has me feeling a li’l frisky, I picked the date and locale – today, my office – without so much as checking the moon cycle, I’m wearing a pretty dress and a slick o’ Backstage Bambi by Kat Von D.

Today is my first date with Untamed.

Yep, that’s the book idea that I plan to date for the foreseeable future.

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