Leanne Margaret

Music warmed my heart from birth Born half-sized, and boxed. I heard it play, maybe a nurse And to its beat I rocked. It held me earthed until the time Someone came to claim me. Soothed to sleep by song and rhyme I rocked out where they laid me. Quickened by the radio I learnt to dance alone. Moving in staccato I felt myself at home. Music was a blanket Dancing was a hug. When I could make a racket It made my heart thud. I danced with belly dancers Then I learnt to teach. I leapt all night with ravers The goals I set were reached. Dancing was my joy The beating of my heart. My soul’s ecstatic toy My vocation and my art. But now I halt – with trepidation Aches, and grabs, and bites. Patella, in disintegration A new knee-cap in sight. The dancer flops upon the edge Of cavernous despair. In the next life , is her pledge While writer holds her by her hair. Change is how things come to be It breaks us into parts. And in my soul I’ve always known The word would be my art. My restless, pacing

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

Life still feels fresh and new, as I settle into my new home. Physically, it was an agonising move. I'm still feeling the effects six weeks later. I've had to moderate my energy to a lethargic pace, which isn't easy when I'm excited about a new home and wanting to get everything unboxed and nailed up.  Being high-strung is pretty normal for me, which is why I need dance in my life; but at its extreme, high-strung becomes tendonitis. When it gets bad enough, enough gentle stretching can be aggravating. So for the last week I've been sitting around with a heat pack trying to limit my steps. I went for my first walk in six days today, and my knee was dicey after fifteen minutes. So I'm back in my chair with a heat pack for the rest of the day. This might sound like a delicious Saturday afternoon, but for me it's not easy.  My model of multidimensional consciousness shows us that when basic dimensions of consciousness like the physical and emotional dimensions

Majickal Meditation Workshop Chirnside Community Centre 1pm, Monday 26th April, 2021 2-hour workshop, $45. Bookings: 1300 835 235 'Did you know that anyone can meditate? Even if you have a thirty-second attention span. Even if your eyes roll at the thought of sitting for an hour in lotus pose, chanting mysterious words. Even if meditation makes you just want to go to sleep. In fact, you're probably doing it more often than you realise.' -from book, Multidimensional Meditation, by Leanne Margaret Let me show you... Are you too busy to stop and connect to your real needs? Join me, as I guide you through a series of meditations to help bring you home to yourself. You will begin with simple awareness of your body. Then, you will gradually ascend to higher, freer levels of consciousness; step-by-step. These higher levels can assist you with your creative work, as well as helping you to transition into sleep.  Most of all, you will learn how to take some simple mindfulness practi

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.

So you're stuck at home in isolation, alone, unable to do life as normal, while we cycle through a collective world groundhog day. The COVID epidemic doesn't look as though it will ease this year, at least. So finding ways to amuse ourselves as days string together into months is super important. Grab a cuppa and get ready to change the world, one dimension at a time.  I believe evolution happens at levels beyond the genetic. As we adapt to outside influences we learn, grow and change, evolving toward managing our challenges more effectively. I have discerned various levels of what I call multidimensional consciousness. You can find out what I mean here . But for today's post I'm focussing on how to adapt to 2020 in particular. It begins with basic coping strategies and then steps you up, level by level, toward world healing and even world-building. Each numbered point represents a dimension of consciousness, each level rising toward greater understanding of and partici

  A little over a decade ago I experienced several years of persistent loss and trauma. I was forced to pick up my broken pieces and start all over again. Previously I had been an avid reader, practitioner and even teacher within the positive thinking movement, but it was useless when I found myself in fight/flight mode, my heart racing, my thinking panicked and irrational.  Gradually over years of refinement under continuing stressful conditions, I created a set of tools that addressed not only calming the inner creature in trauma, but also transitioned that frightened creature out of terror and into empowerment.  Personally I have gained more of a sense of control over my life and my personal energy. And we know particularly during this pandemic that control is really just an idea we hold onto so we don’t fall down. But we can move ourselves out of trauma and gain more control over our own consciousness.  So here’s a step-by-step list of how I pull myself together and mak