Don’t ask the universe

I love the notion that the universe provides; all you have to do is ask in the correct way.

But just when you think you’ve got it nailed. And you know what you want, and at last you’ve figured out the correct way to ask – it’s right in this moment that life knocks your feet out from under you and slaps you round the face.

Then, as you climb to your feet and before you’ve even had the chance to brush yourself off and decide what to do next – slap! You get hit round the face just one more time.

‘They’ say that things come in threes, so I suppose I should steady myself for another hit. Or would that be a self fulfilling prophesy? Am I inviting the universe to bitch slap me one more time simply because I believe things come in threes?

And so here I am, on guard, wondering what part of my request the universe didn’t like.

But I don’t believe in fate and refuse to accept what I am served as final. I think we make whatever happens to us in life work – because really, what other option do we have?

Stopping? Giving up?

And so rather than preparing myself for the third hit I’m going to stay on the floor for a little while longer considering my options.

I no longer feel hard done by, I am grateful that these circumstances are forcing me to consider a different route.

What comes next is up to me.

 

Self love v’s self destruct

Now I’m all for self love. In fact I would go as far as to say I was an advocate of self love.

But, from time to time I have found myself wondering what am I supposed to do when all the Yoga and organic dark chocolate in the world just won’t cut it.

I had been feeling it for a while – extra pressure with work, deadlines looming and bills hovering somewhere in the background.

Then finally I’m eye to eye with the weekend and somewhere not too far away I hear the words ‘fuck it’.

Would it be so bad to lose control and go wild?

Drop the responsibility I’ve been holding so close to my chest, rip up the budget I’ve been carrying around and have just one more drink…

Who cares if I don’t appreciate the morning, miss 6am yoga and waste tomorrow on the sofa eating pizza. And so what if I don’t save any money this month?

If practicing self love means always making the healthy choice for your body, then I have failed tonight and tomorrows most likely a write off too.

But then again, what if self love doesn’t actually mean this at all?

To me, self love simply means knowing myself well enough to drop all the rules and having the confidence to trust my choices – even when they’re bad.

And of course, accepting that sometimes you’ve just gotta dance until 3am.

“How well do you know yourself?”

In need of a dream

That’s the one I want – your dream neatly laid out in front of me in beautiful photos of freedom, with dirty bracelets loosely fastened round your wrist and naked sandy feet.

Perfect jobs, with progression, beautiful stationary and matching handbag – it all looks so good to me.

I don’t know the rules of dreams, if I didn’t dream it can it be mine? Is it really so bad to steal yours?

I find it so easy falling for your dreams, open hearted I hear the passion and conviction in your stories, and instantly I want it for myself. It could be my dream, it feels familiar already, so right, I’m sure I want it to.

And then it’s mine, and the promise of happiness drifts away and I’m never quite fulfilled.

Turns out it’s not really the dream I’m after, it’s the knowing I’m craving.

I hear the words “life is short, follow your dreams” and then in my head someone pipes up; “life’s a long time to be unhappy, what are you going to do about it?”

I guess the only answer is dream?

They must be in there somewhere, hiding behind a pile of someone else travel photos, job applications and perfect boyfriends. So worried about making bad choices and looking silly, I let them go, they were lost.

How hard can it be to find them? After all, they’re only dreams.