Leanne Margaret

I must pause a moment, from editing my memoir, to reflect on the art of memoir itself. I'm in the fourth year of active focus on my memoir. But of course, fragments of it have existed for many more years than that. I wrote, had professionally edited, and self-published, my first two books in the space of five years; yet the third book has dawdled. At times, I didn't touch it for months. I wonder why it's dragged its feet so much? When I ponder this question, I find myself looking at the self-reflection aspect of memoir. Not just that; it's the articulation of self into an organised line. For that to occur, a clear concept of self must be attained.  My sense of self was fragmented by trauma; which means that in order to finish the memoir, I needed to heal.  Coupled with that, for eight years, my home life was plagued with triggers that stole countless writing days from me. During this time I was also teaching dance, which – although it funded my writing education – was m...

Could this be the first rays of motivating light warming my typing hands? Is it over yet? The loss of belief; the feeling I may never write again; avoidance, even repulsion towards the idea of sitting at my computer; closing the study door so I don't have to look at my computer. Is it over yet? I think so. My feet are resting on a new footrest, given to me by my daughter for my fiftieth birthday. The office chair is wrapping around me like the hug of an old friend. The computer, asleep for weeks, came instantly to life—as if time had stood still.  But time doesn't stand still, and as my fiftieth year of living this life begins, it feels like I should hurry up a bit. Although it's normal for Capricorns to peak late, I still don't feel as though I have time to waste. I have so many book ideas, and books take years to write! So rest doesn't always sit well with me. I know it's inevitable. My first book was all about understanding human energy and its cycles. Creat...

New energy is permeating my life, bringing some surprising changes. I'm not exactly sure how long I've been in survival-mode, but I don't think I'm in it any more. Dare I say, I'm in thriving-mode? Twenty days short of my fiftieth birthday, and I'm finally living the life I've always hoped for—the writing life.  I didn't realise how much I would have to let go, which is why it's taken me so long. I tried to juggle family life, with work life, with dancing life, with tarot life, with writing life. Simply put, I tried to have it all. Isn't that what women are supposed to do? Eventually, when my nerves and knees were shot, I surrendered. I closed two websites, essentially two businesses and focussed entirely on my writing goals.  The first thing I noticed was the relief of not having to manage three business platforms. It was like having three hungry kids to feed. The second thing I noticed was the clarity of mind upon waking each morning, knowing I...

Life has shifted vibration this year. Most major shifts of my life are marked by a) moving house, and b) the appearance of a new colour on the palette of my home. During my years as a dance teacher, red was the dominant colour in my life. Its energy, vitality and grounding essence infused my life with strength and physical focus.  But the alchemy of time and moving house transformed my spirit, leaving me over-stimulated by my environment. I needed to be infused with finer vibrations. So I subdued the energy of my home by stripping back the colour, eliminating things that shouted too loudly, replacing them with softer hues; accessorising with blues. There are mystical reasons why a writer can benefit from being surrounded by the blue vibration. The human communication centres or throat chakra, known as Dimension Five in my books , resonate at the same frequency as the colour of sky-blue. Our third-eye chakra, known as Dimension Six in my books, resonates with the colour indigo. So v...

So far this month, I've been wallowing in my new nest. My mind has been consumed with hanging pictures and sticky hooks, assembling flatpack chairs, and cleaning the old dirt caked on by the previous owner of my new home.  Any physical efforts have been hampered by a knee twanging case of tendonitis. I want to be charging through edits on my memoir, but it seems most of my energy is being burned up by the physical dimensions of my life: body, space, nest, nutrition, rest. Like the house of Dorothy, mine has spun through the air, flattening the wicked witch I had become at my previous home, leaving me feeling like Glinda the good witch is still alive and shining within me. It's hard to have a happy mind in an unhappy home. I've been in my new home for nine weeks, and I catch myself having a little giggle from time to time about my luck.  My psych would say it wasn't luck but good choices. To help me manifest the right home I also maintained a five-year ritual of spell-cr...

Since my last post, my whole world has shifted up a few notches. And I mean that literally, as I've moved into a top floor apartment. I now have a study with a view, unlike my last study, which was a nook in my lounge room that faced an uninspiring wall. My new view is so picturesque that I may find myself too distracted to write.  I suppose that's today's theme: too distracted to write. That's how I feel, after only three weeks in my new place. Everything is still so fresh and novel that I'm still in the 'staring at new things' stage. Staring at the arrangement of plates in my new oversized kitchen drawers (I love those), staring at the arrangement of crystals in my bedroom, staring at the large dining table (calculating the size of its smaller replacement), staring at the island bench where my new barstools are going to go when they arrive. But mostly, I'm staring at the view. Last night I sat out on the balcony until 10pm, just staring into the foggy ...

Eight years ago I started this blog with a post about my introduction to  apartment life . Now I'm standing on the cusp between two lives, as I prepare to move home again in ten day's time. Anyone familiar with my journey will know that living in my current home hasn't been easy. It has however been a succinct teacher, illuminating me to the most difficult aspects of my own nature; parts of me that had disappeared into the background as white noise, barely audible under the cacophony of the external dramas in my life. As the fallout from my second divorce slowly—too slowly—ebbed away, I began to realise that the angry situations invoked by my marriages were just tips of the tongues of angry flames that went way back in time. I was left with myself, intolerant and angry—triggered by the sounds around me.  Although it has been a difficult environment to live in, I feel like I've been through a major period of personal and creative development. When I moved here I was focu...

Is anyone else experiencing an acceleration of time? Maybe it's just middle-age catching up with me, but this year seems to have marched by quicker than most.  Back in May, my last blog post actually, I decided to take a break from memoir writing. Now, here we are in July—and I've only just started again. Has it really been five months? At least I'm working again, and I've recruited a 'manager.' I'm not talking about a human manager. Instead I've recruited the services of Apple Reminders, and Google Tasks. I should add that they're not paying me. I just like their apps. In the past, I'd resisted the urge toward evolving from my paper diary to a slightly less visual form; where appointments and tasks get tucked away inside a phone app—never to be tapped on again! But Apple upgraded their app, and I upgraded too. So my simple three lists for: shopping, books and movies, has grown somewhat. I now maintain seventeen task lists, some with subtasks. I ...

For two years, I've been toiling away at my third book — a memoir. I have a long draft that I'm wrangling, shaving, plucking and cutting into a series of hopefully sensible, temporally correct chapters. This isn't my first 'rodeo,' so when I got to chapter thirty-three — and froze — I had a pretty good idea what was going on: I was caught in knots at the mid-point. Events swirled around me, from my own memory — yet I could no longer pin these snakes down onto the page in lines that aligned in time.  So I realised it was time to stop. There's no resisting it. You know what they say: if you have to force it, it's probably s#@t. So the remedy is: acceptance. Go with it. The creative process is a moody beast that must be fed and nourished correctly. It eats brain food, and is picky. One day it likes to eat memoir, swearing it wants to eat memoir every single day. Then suddenly, without warning, the brain wants to eat an episode of Big Bang Theory; or a copy of t...

This post is dedicated to the women who have helped me to step towards my potential. These women believed in me when I was unable to do it for myself. I try to pay it forward to my students and friends.   As I prepare my return to teaching in 2021, I'm pausing to reflect on how I came to step into the role in the first place. I always knew I would be a writer, but my role as teacher was a surprise to me. So how did it happen? Compared to many dancers I was a late bloomer, attending my first dance class at the age of twenty-five. A year or so later my teacher asked me to teach a class of beginner dancers. I was gobsmacked. Why on earth would she pick me to teach? I'd never taught anyone anything.  Although I didn't believe in myself, I did believe in my teacher. It wasn't the first time she had invited me to step out of my comfort zone. Twice each year she would run fabulously staged dance concerts. As well as dancing, I had been invited to read tarot at these concerts. ...

Sunday night, I sat swearing at the News. I didn't care about Trump. I didn't care about Australian politicians having intimate relationships–seriously, who does? All I wanted to see was news that we Melbournians can be released from our stage four lockdown prisons. When that news didn't arrive my resilience began to plummet. The next day, I was so distracted that I accidentally brushed my teeth with the grout-cleaning toothbrush. Although I went on to have a productive day, anxiety snapped at my heels like a feral dog. I was bitching and moaning about every little thing. It wore me down. By Tuesday, I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that it wasn't going to be a good day. Time slowed down so that one hour felt like four. Everything annoyed me. Activities which I happily enjoyed over the past week suddenly held no interest for me. I didn't want to play piano. I didn't want to go for a walk. I didn't want to do yoga or dance. I didn't even want to heat up...

November was the month for an event known among writers as NaNoWriMo, which means National Novel Writing Month. Participants sign up and make a pledge to complete writing 50,000 words in 30 days. Although it's named 'National,' it has become an international competition. Since first noticing the event on Social Media, I had watched it go by me for several rounds. But this year the planets aligned and something different happened. After writing the first 40,000 words of a new manuscript I came to a slow spot. It wasn't writers' block because the rest of the material for the book was sitting right at the edges of my brain just waiting to be written down. I had just lost motivation. So I definitely hadn't consciously planned on participating in NaNoWriMo. I didn't even know how. The repetition of a ritual for a set period of time is something I usually do when I'm making majick. Repetition of an activity reinforces neural pathways that once strengthened...

Doing nothing can get stuff done. Although it's evening and I'm tired, and have already written a piece of content, I decided to tap into my creative space and see if anything came up. I pondered the creative space itself and how it's achieved. The result is this piece about developing an inner life. Because I like to frame things in terms of multidimensional consciousness, in this article I have mapped out a step-by-step process to help you move progressively through different dimensions of consciousness. It's basically a mindfulness exercise, but it's also the process I use to tap into my own creativity. Whether I'm tapping into the plane of words, pictures or symbols, there's a preliminary process - a turning away from ordinary consciousness - toward the inner life. Multidimensional Consciousness Our hectic paced lives can make it harder than ever to maintain an inner life. Bright lights and continual stimulation lengthen the amount of time we s...

Finally, I've completed my second book. I'm not exactly sure why it took 20 months - considering its compact size - but it's a cute and tidy little summary of some big ideas. I'm delighted to have a proof copy in my hands. It's a real thing now! Come along to my Book Launch When I finished my first book, The Love of the Universe , I still had some material left over that I felt was important. After the experience of writing the first book, I was able to approach writing the second with more clarity and focus. It was easier to imagine the reader I was speaking to, which helped me to write words that could be understood in a relaxed way. I wanted the words to be simple enough to allow a restful, nurturing space that supported the topic. So, I wrote Multidimensional Meditation. The benefits of some kind of relaxation practice are becoming widely known and people are becoming more accepting of meditation. Some feel a spiritual calling or yearning they wish to ex...

Leanne Margaret © 2019

Sharing The Love of the Universe In our fast paced world, people are becoming increasingly stressed, overwhelmed and multitasked. Attention can be pulled in so many directions that it's hard to be fully present for anything. Distraction is at an all time high. Many people are also suffering stress related issues such as insomnia, cravings, racing thoughts and even burnout. The most balanced person can become overstimulated at the hectic pace. How can we keep up with everything and stay sane? A long time ago, I learned two words with the power to ease the internal pressure. Two words that allowed me to let go of perfectionism and fear of failure. Two words to remind me that, 'to err is human.' Good Enough Those two words were: Good enough. At the time I was a new mum, trying to be perfect, and failing because babies are inherently imperfect and don't know when to sleep. But we made it. Her survival to adulthood and ability to happily lead her own life show...