Spiritual troubleshooting

The following concern is from a reader who is having difficulty applying esoteric, spiritual principles to  her real life property dilemma.

The reader is seeking to procure a house, to live in for herself and her family. Her current property - a rental - while quaint and serves it's purpose, curiously does not contain a single cupboard or storage facility of any kind - something that has seemingly irked the reader for some time. She has been searching for over two years high and low, with no avail. 

She purchased a land with a derelict home approximately a year ago, with the hopes of demolishing and building anew. For reasons that are unclear to the writer, the parcel of land was sold recently, for a handsome profit. Yet the fact remains, although now financially somewhat endowed, the reader remains without her desired home and without cupboard. 

A place where I once lived

A man is dead with only an Opal card on his person to identify him. Not a single person can identify him, although his opal card shows that he was most likely a resident of Sydney’s inner-west suburb of Campsie. The autopsy shows that he suffered from multiple myeloma, an aggressive cancer leaving him in significant, if not unbearable pain. There is not a neighbour, friend or family member who has ever seen or is aware of the existence of this person.

The story is not only distressing for the fact this person must have endured constant excruciating physical pain during the last stages of his life – although horrible in itself. What is more concerning, what I simply cannot fathom, is how isolated this person would have been during the final chapter of his life and how one could be so utterly alone in an Australian suburb like Campsie.

I moved to Campsie two years ago, having finally saved a sufficient amount for a home deposit. The two bedroom unit is old and dated but the building itself is solid despite the ominous deep cracks on the concrete balcony floor, and the wooden window sill panelling on the verge of complete annihilation. My downstairs neighbour has a NRL Bulldogs poster in lieu of curtains. It is perfect. In terms of location, I did not choose Campsie. Instead, the confluence of circumstance, the Sydney property market and a road trip gone awry led me here (One wrong turn off while returning from the city to my parent’s home in the Northern suburbs resulted in the Nav Man leading me through this strange land overflowing with Asian eateries and groceries, and bursting with people - so many people! ) “What is this place?” I exclaimed with astonishment as I slowly drove through the main artery of the bustling, multicultural suburb. It was Campsie.

You are a people too

The other morning I was munching on my muesli and listening to the words of my personal guru/white Oprah, Louise Hay, when she mentioned that people often labour under a belief that they need to “help people”. Ms Hay, in her extraordinarily simple and matter-of-fact wisdom goes on to astutely observe "But you are a people too”. 

You are a people too. Truer (albeit grammatically incorrect) words have never been spoken.

In my early twenties – a stage of my life I like to fondly refer to as fucking BS (Before Spirituality) - I believed I needed to save everyone. I felt compelled to save the world, save the animals,  save anyone and everything. I believe this mentality propelled many life decisions, including what to study at university and what jobs to take. However, over the years and through my spiritual learnings,  I have now come to understand that  there is little to be gained from crazy-ass, broken people running around trying to save the world or others . Rather, what the world needs is whole people - people who love themselves completely -  walking the earth spreading their own light and leaving behind idelible footprints  of peace via their actions and their presence.

When life was BS, I believed my desire to help others was inherently good, a goal worthy dedictaing my life to. And while it may be all these things, I have found these things alone cannot fuel a long term sustainable spreading of peace. I truly believe if we want to make the pursuit of helping others bear healthy, nourishing fruit we must first begin by looking inwards and cultivating peace within ourselves. This is how we save the world. In fact, I would argue that there is little utility in those who are spiritually devoid helping others in the long term . Aside from the short term practical assistance proffered to the recipient, there is no overall payoff that results in any meaningful, positive  net gain to the world. How, then, should one go about helping or assisting others  if that is what we feel compelled to do? I believe it should be done  in a such a way  that when the help is offered or the particular action is executed, it is  laden with a charge that comes from a  deep well of peace. And while there is nothing wrong by being moved by injustice, hurt or anger - these feelings cannot form the foundation  of actions which contribute to overall peace in the world.

Interestingly,  once I let go of this need to "save" and turned inwards, my life has continued to go from strength to strength. My dream job landed in my lap with practically no effort on my part.  I got my apartment which I had been struggling to obtain years prior. And when I do help others  - which is through the aforementioned dream job - there is no struggle, no bitterness, no anger that comes with performing the role. The ‘good’ fight is truly good! 

So, If it is peace that we seek in our world,   we must task ourselves with the responsibility of  truly taking care and helping ourselves first

I

Bathroom Inspiration

In light of some subtle criticism to my last post left by an anonymous reader located in Brisbane, I have decided to valiantly forge ahead with my renovation posts because it's my blog and I can write what I want. So without further ado, I now invite you to indulge in some renovation wankery with me:

Renovation Update

One of the unanticipated perils of hiring your dad to oversee the renovation of your unit is that you run the risk that he may slowly attempt to take up residence in your unit. Without consent. This is all the more concerning when you have yet to move in yourself. It started a few weeks ago when I went to the unit and identified a new unassuming kettle sitting on the newly installed kitchen counter. Sure, I thought, help yourself to a cup of a tea - in fact, I insist. But this was then followed a week later by the appearance of an unidentified toaster followed in quick succession by a small cooking-for-one -frying pan. Squatter situation and associated fry-ups (?) aside, the renovation is going well. The kitchen is almost done albeit for the splash back and I am glad I finally have a set colour scheme in the kitchen to inform the rest of the unit!

Made in Campsie

Not long ago - I cannot pin point exactly when -  my mum got fed up with my paying rent via the usual means (The usual means being a mutually agreed and unspoken contract which would see me providing my exclusive clown entertaining services and associated theatrics 24/7 in exchange for accommodation).  And so she took to charging me rent. I  acknowledge I have been deeply fortunate for my good run thus far and  truthfully, I was happy to pay rent as I believed  that this would be the much needed impetus to finally get my own place.



For those of you who know me, I've been speaking about getting my own place and doing it up for about 10 years. Those who know me also know I like talking a lot of shit, so I guess purchasing a unit did come as somewhat of a surprise to a few.

But here it is! My first apartment. It's kind of small and needs a lot of work, but it gets drenched in around-the-clock glorious sunshine and has great bones (some of which, admittedly,  I'm in the process of surgically removing - ha!).

And after sitting on my empty lounge floor and crying after the first, second and third visits,  I am now happy to report that since working on the unit, I'm growing to really love this place! I have so many grand visions for it ( In terms of a palette, I've been throwing around terms like "Scandinavian", "clean crisp lines" like any good proper designer wanker would). And while initially the prospect of renovating this place seemed daunting,  the process  has actually been really exciting and fun, but obviously not without its moments (more on that later).

And in unrelated renovation news:

Of Mind and Mongrel

At the RSPCA, she assumed the identity of  a low-level prison bitch going by name of 'Sunny' (sick, I know). With her stint finally over, she was promptly brought home, babtised and issued with a new passport and drivers licence in the name of 'Frankie'. She is known to answer to other descriptive monikers including;  Frankfart (upon emitting gas), Frangi, Frangipani (fresh after a bath), Frau Frankie (in the presence of mixed company) and Rat Bastard.