Self Discipline

Some have it and some don’t. What sets people apart? What makes some people truly great in their own right?

For me, I believe the difference is Self Discipline.

As a Writer, self discipline is the difference between my success and my failure.

Today, I am redeeming myself by writing this article. Today, I have been self indulgent. Now? I am making up for my slovenly ways.

Self discipline is valuable and a trait I am working on. It is a Journey, just like my Writing is.

So join me on the road to success. Invest in yourself. Invest in your Self Discipline and you will never go wrong.

Free

Sobbing, I pushed my way into the Forbidden Garden. It was a secret walled garden, where my Mother and Father once met. Now, with both dead, it had been forgotten. But I had been jilted. Originally in line for the throne, I had been disgraced. For my evil Uncle had changed the law by making it illegal for a woman to inherit the kingdom, hence cementing himself as King. And me? I was only good now, to be a Pawn in his dealings.

The gate was rusty and took a few shoves before it squeaked on its hinges, to reveal the sorry state of this once beautiful place. The pathways were littered with fallen leaves, and plants trailed over the edges of the garden beds. A colourful confusion of flowers and weeds tumbled over tree branches, and the tree branches themselves were too heavy to lift above the mass of vines that conspired to drag them to the ground.

On the other end of the garden, another gate had led to the outside wall and into the wilderness beyond. It was no completely gone.

Green algae and slush glugged out of the fountain in the centre, and the chair where I had sat as a child, with Mum playing with my hair, was rusty and broken. Just as I thought it was a mistake to seek comfort in such a forgotten place, I heard a rustling.

Caught on my Father’s favourite rose bush, was an animal. I crept forward, until I saw it’s wounded paw, trapped by the thorns and torn to bloody ribbons. Wiping the tears from my eyes, so I could see, I felt instant empathy. Just like this beautiful tiger, I too, felt trapped by my Uncle.

She was skinny and her fur was matted. She was tired and elderly, looking like she wouldn’t survive another Winter in the wild where she belonged.

Her deep brown eyes were soft with pain, as she sought my own. Courageously, I crept forward, disentangling her paw from the thorny branches of the rosebush. She whined, but did not move, as I released her.

Feeling more confident now, I tore a strip from my beautiful white dress, and sponged some of the oozing black blood away, until I could see the wound was clean. The tiger winced but did not try to hurt me.

When done, I sat back to see my handy work. With a contented sigh, she leaned against me.

Finally, for the first time since my Uncle had usurped me, I felt I had the strength to fight him. Tomorrow, I would see which Courtiers would support me in leading a wedge against my Mother’s brother.

Crisis

It’s everywhere.

Like a Creature who has snuck up at us out of the depths of our subconscious. It preys on the elderly and it’s shadow reaches further into our hearts and minds via the contageousness of the Media.

It’s times like these, when we face both illness and Recession that we need each other.

At this point in time, I’m toying with ideas of what I can do to help on a personal level.

When the Corona Virus has passed, there will be broken businesses and business owners and employers left in its wake.

It’s up to us to mend this. If you have some idea about maths, become a Budget Counsellor.

If you have people skills, reach out and offer support. If in a country with Lifeline, become a Lifeline Counsellor.

It’s during times like these when your free time combined with your skills can rebuild lives.

As soon as is practical, reach out to the charity and not for profit sector and make a real difference.

Together, we can do this.

Perfectionism

To the average Perfectionist, Perfectionism can hold one back, cause worry, and stop one from achieving.

But I have a simple solution.

Add an Ing at the end of Perfect.

So today, I am Perfecting, my writing.

It’s a way of life, an aspiration, a verb.

So now, Dear Perfectionists, keep doing what you do. Keep Perfecting every aspect of your life.

Perfect!

Failing

Just to mention this bush fires again… it is still bush fire season here in Australia…I’m just posting this piece I wrote as I helped with the bush fire near my family’s home.

While the bush fire is near, I feel irresponsible, leaving my sister with my nephews alone and with out my support.

So that means I am currently sitting in the lounge room with a 4 month old.

Now one thing I must note. His target at the moment is to learn to crawl.

In the past 30 minutes I have watched his little face screw up in concentration as he pushes his chest up off his baby blanket. To all extents and purposes he is failing.

But do you know what he does?

Every time he’s on that blanket, he tries and tries again.

It’s not failure. It’s a part of his learning process.

So every time I hit a wall, I’m going to follow his example. I’m going to focus on my goal and start working on it again… until I get there.

Are you going to follow a 4 month old baby’s lead too?

Christmas

As Christmas nears, I bet you’ve been Christmas shopping.

Buying gifts at this time of year is a major part of life. And mostly it is expensive.

It also is an activity that leads to rampant consumerism… and I DON’T like seeing myself as a Consumer.

So a tip to all who are also rebelling against this label.

From a Podcast I recently listened to:

Buy something to wear.
Buy something to read.
And buy something functional.

Merry Christmas and I’ll write to you in the New Year.

Waiting

How many of us spend our life waiting.

Waiting for a higher paying job. Waiting for the holidays, waiting for the Significant Other?

It’s hard to get this, or at least it has been for me…

But Life is happening NOW!

As we all wait for things to be different, life is not waiting for us to make up our minds or for the right opportunity to announce itself.

So, why are we?

My challenge before the Christmas season and the New Year is to stop waiting.

Get up and make a decision.

Resting is okay… but do not wait.

Junkie

There’s a new twist on the word “Junkie.”

In many ways I am a Junkie. A Junk Junkie.

Crowding my home are little knick knacks, several pine cones, and some sentimental things to remind me of Nanna.

Oh, and did I mention I love op shops. I love trawling through, looking for little treasures that none but me find attractive.

Sounds like a Junk Junkie to me!!! Self diagnosed!!!

But today, I am proud of myself.

I actually walked into an op shop and out again with only one item stowed away in my shopping bag.

Maybe I’m beginning to join the mini revolution others have started. The swing away from clutter. The swing towards minimalisation and saving the planet by owning a few less pieces of junk, and freeing up some time and wealth for loved ones.

Are you an Op Shop tragic like me? Or are you swinging towards owning less?

Leave your answer in the comments section

Caring

Recently, I attended a workshop on how to cope when living within an emotionally unstable environment.

The take away lesson for me was this:

Be on the watch out for the Perfectionist.

When caring for yourself or someone else, it’s okay to be unable to fix the problems within the relationship.

People cannot be fixed.

It’s best to accept that you are doing your best, even when the situation isn’t working out.

But if you are seeking perfectionism, then you become a part of the problem.

Relationships are not perfect. They are always changing. Being a Perfectionist just puts you into a state of distress and weakens your ability to respond with love.

So next time I find myself seeking perfectionism, I’m pulling back and saying to myself:

“Good is good enough.”

Hillville fire

My Nanowrimo has hit a snag.

It’s not writer’s block or lack of discipline.

This morning, my family were relieved to go home. They were lucky they had a home. Over the past 48 hours, a spectacular effort was put in by the Firies of Australia. These are the true heroes of the whole event. Men and women who volunteer their services to be Fire Fighters when the bush fire season are upon us are amazing.

These brave people are not paid a cent for risking their lives in times of fire.

If you’d like to know more about the bush fire my family almost lost their house to, google Hillville Fire. It’s been all over the news.

As I write this, my Dad, also a volunteer firiey is sleeping. He is 78 and worked from 7am to 7pm yesterday with a tiny crew of 3 people, putting out fires.

Most of the volunteer Fire Fighters are over 50 years old.

I suspect more of my posts may be influenced by my experience of the Hillville Fire. There are so many aspects of this event that strike a chord with me.

But today, I’m so proud to be a part of a nation where we have such an effective volunteer force.

Thank you to the volunteer operated Rural Fire Service of New South Wales. You and your interstate colleagues saved my family’s ancestral home.

Thank you indeed.