Leanne Margaret

An excerpt from book The Love of the Universe . Read it slowly, feeling the meaning of each word with each of your senses.  The power isn't in the words, but how you use them; let them settle—opening your mind towards extraordinary sensing.  Remember to practice your new craft, so that it grows stronger. An eg: With eyes closed, practice reaching into a bag of M&Ms, pick one and guess what colour you might have in your hand.  The results might surprise you, but if you are too sceptical, the activation of your left brain will distract from the right hemisphere. So please approach this exercise with an open, relaxed mind.  Page 206: Psychic Development Contemplation Poem  'See with your mind Hear with your mind Feel and touch with mind.  Feel with your hands See with your hands Hear and receive with hands. Hear with your ears Feel with your ears See and imagine with ears. See with your eyes hear with your eyes Feel and perceive with eyes. Listen with your skin Sense with your

New Moon is my favourite time of year, not just because it's always near my birthday, but because it's when I give my imagination space to soar into new possibilities. Each new moon inspires my mind to gently plant the seeds of growth that I intend nurturing for the coming year. Gently is the keyword, because for many people, new moon isn't the most energising of lunar phases. The light is low to remind you to rest, like the moonlight rests out of sight. As you rest, the mind is free to mull over what you wish to bring into your life.  "What do you hope to bring into your life?" What do you hope to bring into your life? Find the date on the chart below that corresponds with your sun sign, and prepare yourself to withdraw from the world at that time and visualise your plans come to being. If you keep written business plans or lists of personal goals, the new moon in your sign is the best time to review them. This is not the time to march out into the world and move

Anyone who read my very first blog post on this site back in 2014, will know that I had some trouble adapting to apartment life. Readers may have wondered whether I would be able to sustain it. Well, I did—for a while. In fact, I lasted seven years—a lot longer than I thought I would.  Seven is a mystical number that expresses the energy of learning through experience. This kind of learning isn't always comfortable, and often involves sacrifice. It took time for me to grow comfortable with the idea of relinquishing the family home, and all the stuff I'd accumulated. I grieved for my big house, even though I knew intuitively that I was moving forward. As I reduced my physical load to a density that my new apartment could hold, my spirit expanded. I felt free enough from domestic distractions to be able to focus on my creative work, and my healing from PTSD; which I felt were inextricably linked.  But when I realised how noisy my new home was, I wondered if I could focus. Relucta

The world has grown noisier since Melbourne's long lockdown began. It shouldn't—the roads are generally more quiet. But major railway construction is taking place a few blocks away, diverting traffic up my street; bringing more noise into my world. Another growth opportunity—yay! Sensitivity to noise is one of my more visible anxiety symptoms. It's visible by my posts on social media, by my hands over my ears as loud cars drive by, and by the 'conversations' I've had with my neighbour over their distressed dog. Otherwise, I keep these signs to myself; mostly anyway. Social sensitivity is another. I take on people's stuff too much and allow it to affect my sense of peace. Not as much as I used to—I'm more aware now! But enough that social interactions can sometimes leave me overstimulated or exhausted. So the social isolation of being in lockdown isn't as unpleasant as it could be. And besides—people are pretty passionate at the moment! I'm replen

To say that many Melbournians are feeling a little maddened by our sixth lockdown would be an understatement. Social media posts are showing us starting to come apart at the seams, bickering amongst ourselves like grounded teenagers.  To be honest, life isn't so different for me. I still went to the shops, like a normal Friday. But I'm frustrated by my efforts at trying to teach new classes in belly dance and tarot. I started with two brand new groups, after months of marketing—and now our term of classes has been stalled until who knows when. So rather than dwelling on a feeling of treading water, surrounded by sharks, I'm going to focus on the things I do at home that make it a great place to be. The emphasis is on creating a warm nest, instead of a padded cell. 1. Routine Maintaining a routine that is as close to normal as possible really helps to stay connected to time, space and security. There's something instinctively comforting about daily routines. Our pets kno

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