I have just launched The Ocean Oracle on the App Store. It's a funny thing to have it out there, to be at this end of a process that began nearly four years ago. I am excited and happy; pleased and grateful. As well as feeling a bit distraught, empty and at a loss. The creation and delivery of this oracle has been a part of me for a long while now. The publishing feels like a birth. And now that it's birthed, I feel a void. I am no longer in control of it. I have nurtured it and shaped it and now I need to let it go. I have done what I could with it and now I need to trust it will find those it can help, those it will resonate with, and those it will heal. Just as it has done all these things for me, and continues to do for me as it makes its way into the world.
The process has been remarkable. It began in a February morning meditation when I was strongly guided to write an oracle based on the ocean and its ability to heal. The vehicle to do this was through story and messages. And so it began. Although I knew this process was about healing I needed to do, I also felt the stories and messages I was intuiting would have healing for others. I knew it was something that needed to be 'out there', available to a larger audience.
It didn't matter how many publishing house rejections I got, I knew my oracle was worthy and important and needed to be available. I knew it offered healing on levels people needed healing. I started making decks myself, selling them at markets and on-line through my website. And then a friend mentioned making the deck into an app.
What I love about the app idea is its instant accessibility and availability. Millions of people can have ocean oracle wisdom at their fingertips. My desire is for this app to go viral. I want the Story and Messages the oracle offers out there, out there doing what it's meant to do. This world, OUR world, needs healing. We need to remember who we are - we need to remember our beauty and brilliance, our light and our gifts. We need to remember these qualities individually, so we can start healing collectively. We know what happens when people are hurting and in fear, so disconnected from themselves and who they are. We are reminded of this every hour of every day if we watch or listen to the news. Imagine the world in which people are healthy and tapped in, connected to their source. Imagine the power of love when we are all okay, functioning from a place of healing and not hurt. This oracle offers the remembrance of our true soul selves. In this place of remembrance, healing begins.
I feel very strongly about The Ocean Oracle and what if offers. There have been times when I wonder about how hard I need to push, but everything feels right about how the oracle and the app came into being. Now I need help. I need help getting it out there, further. I want people to know it's available. I believe one of the best ways is word of mouth. Please tell your friends, tell your family, share with your networks, share your stories. It's a brand new year and a brand new world, full of infinite possibilities. What passion, what spark of an idea, are you going to follow this year? I would be honoured and grateful if you would share The Ocean Oracle - my spark of an idea ignited four years ago. Allow it to be part of the journey - for your Self and the world.
I learned the word liminal recently. It was the perfect word, at the perfect time. Like most words, it can have a few definitions, but what resonated with me was its reference to the space between; a transitional time; a threshold. Between what was and what is. Or what is and what will be. The space where we are neither one thing nor another.
I think why I fell in love with this word recently is because it described, in one word no less, where I've been. And as difficult as that space was at times, it was also incredibly joyful.
Most everything in life is a process and often we are unaware of these transitional times. We move seamlessly from one thing to another. Like breathing. We inhale and we exhale, not often aware of the space between breathing in and breathing out. If we focus on that space, the experience becomes something new. Something else.
That leaving of the old to start something new. The space in between is liminal space. And that space can be all manner of things. It can be overwhelming because we are essentially in 'no man's land'. We are not our usual self. We are no longer connected to what was, nor yet present in what is to come. And that is the beauty of transition; of being on a threshold; of liminal space.
In that space, though, we can feel vulnerable, lost, anxious, depressed - it's not a space we are used to hanging out in. We go through transitions all the time, every day. Between sleep and wakefulness; between daily activities; between wakefulness and sleep. We are often not aware of them. And some of the transitions are easier than others. But what about the bigger transitions - changing jobs, partners, homes, towns? Those are all major changes. Do we give ourselves enough time to transition? To be present in liminal space? What would happen if we did?
I have recently been gifted 2 months of, essentially, liminal space. While I was in this space, I was uncomfortable. I couldn't understand what was going on. I was in incredible flow. Highly creative and happy. Yet giving my self such a hard time because I wasn't making money. It was such a fight between what I love doing versus mainstream money making employment. I feel like the space was a gift because it was a special time. And although the transition hasn't been something tangible, I feel like a completely different person; slightly askew from where I was. But totally taken with where I stand and the view around me. I feel like I have crossed a threshold.
I didn't know I was in transition - I just knew I was no longer where I was, yet not arrived at where I was going. Liminal space describes exactly where I was, the whole time. Who knew?! I am ever grateful and ready to step forward.
I've been having trouble with my knees lately. This isn't anything new. But the degree of how unstable they have become is scaring me. I have never been able to trust my left knee. (And no, the symbolism of being able to move forward into the feminine is not lost on me.) This comes from a childhood of knee dislocations which would have me wandering along quite nicely one second and then crumpled on the ground the next. These scenes were awkward, and painful, to say the least.
I had surgery on my knee when I was 14. And although my knee has not dislocated since, I have never fully trusted that it wouldn't. I am still realising how much this fear has impacted me in my life. I am hesitant to cross roads, I am extra careful around furniture at knee height (not wanting to inadvertently knock my knee cap out of place, like what happened in drafting class when I was 13). But I've always been okay with just plain walking. And I am very thankful for that. Because walking has always been one way for me to process and to ground. When all else fails, a walk helps.
So it is to a new level of fear that I have come into lately as walking has become increasingly difficult. I don't trust my knee any more to support me. I feel like I am going to topple over backwards and this leads to great jerky moves of my whole body. It's really quite freaky. It's like a startle response without the actual startle. I no longer trust in the fluidity of my movement. In short, I feel like my knee is lacking in integrity.
Which is interesting because this week's Ocean Oracle card is Rosa Rugosa - INTEGRITY. What I find interesting is that I am trying to walk a path - walk MY path. And I no longer trust it. And while I know there is something physically wrong with my knee, I can't help but wonder at the metaphysical stuff around it: according to Louise L. Hay's 'Heal Your Body', knees 'represents changes in direction in life and the ease of these movements'; left symbolises the feminine. I remembered today that these jerky movements started a couple of years ago. As I was contemplating the transition from permanent state government job to self-employed healer, I used to walk in the park near my office. It was on these walks that I started to feel unsteady. Now I have transitioned so far into the healing side of things that I forget I was ever an extension horticulturalist. But lately I have been having trouble trusting the process. And although on most levels I feel completely supported, in a couple of ways I feel completely unsupported. It's as if my physical knee is reflecting my internal walk. So as I walk further along my path, in my truth and integrity, I am being challenged by all manner of things which currently seem to manifesting as a dodgy knee. I've got choices up ahead. The path is not only in one direction or even one path. I know I need to keep moving forward, even when that movement is awkward and scary and uncomfortable. And even if my knee is lacking integrity, that doesn't need to reflect the integrity of my choices. In gratitude.
My time here is winding down. It's been a good visit, of course nothing like I imagined. Not that I imagined it wouldn't be good - more that I thought it would be endless days of wandering the land, caught up in creative pursuits. Reality is often far from imaginings. As I write this, I am outside, watching robins fight over some treasure they probably both want for their nests. Something to help nurture their young. It's spring time and nature is alive and abundant! And sometimes fighting.
A friend came to visit me yesterday, made the journey to this island, to spend time away from her life and with me, here, in my life. It was a perfect day in many ways. It meant that I was out and about most of the day. When I came home, late in the afternoon, I wandered down to my hut and found, just outside to the east, a painted turtle laying her eggs in the lawn. I felt so blessed - that she would entrust this little yard to keep watch over her buried treasure. I was excited to think of little turtles emerging after their time in the earth, to venture out on their own.
And it reminded me of a card from my Ocean Oracle deck - 41 - Turtle - Protection. I have posted that card on The Ocean Oracle page, and also below. For me, it is a reminder that sometimes you have to entrust someone, or something, else to help birth what you have created. That sometimes you don't have to do it all yourself. That you can ask for help for those things that you can't necessarily do on your own. And also that Mother Earth is always there to protect you. In all sorts of weather. In those times when you thought you could do it all on your own, but realise that the reality is otherwise. And entrusting someone else to look after your 'baby', is sometimes the wisest option.
41 Turtle PROTECTION
He watched, fascinated, as the turtle made her way towards the beach. He was mesmerised by her ancient being, and her deliberate focus on the task at hand. It was the season of egg laying for the native turtles. Each year they came from all over the area to lay their eggs on the beach, deep within the sand which offered the eggs protection as they gestated. They trusted the earth, in which the eggs were laid, to look after their young, to help the eggs develop into what they would become. When the time comes for the eggs to hatch, the mothers return to help their young emerge from the earth, reborn. Earth Mother looks after them until they are ready to enter the world, and blesses them with a shell to protect them once they leave her womb.
What are you protecting right now? Do you need to be protected? The instinct that has you in protection mode - is it fear? Do you need to find a safe place to birth an idea? Can you trust someone or something else to nurture what is being birthed from you? Protection can keep you from harm but may also limit your potential. Be aware of intent. You are protected by Mother Earth. Like a turtle retreating into her shell for protection, allow Mother Earth to be your shell at this time.
My idea of home is tricky at the best of times. I live in one place, in the southern hemisphere, while having a place in the northern hemisphere which can pull strongly on me. I was born to this place in the north, and it is my heartland. But I choose to live in Australia because I love it and it has always felt like home. It's tricky having two places which I call home because they are mutually exclusive - opposite sides of the world sees to that. And I don't imagine I will ever be able to live in one place and not be homesick, at least on occasion, for the other place.
It is to this latest bout of homesickness that I now find myself shrouded in fog. And I am feeling my way through how similar fog and homesickness can be.
I arrive in America this time in the dark. The morning after arrival, I head to the ferry, which will take us passengers to the little island I call home. We embark in fog; sail through fog; disembark in fog. I think if I didn't know this place intimately, I would find I don't like it. It's uncomfortable, this fog. Not being able to see more than a few yards in front of me requires an immense amount of trust. I really have to trust my own navigational skills and trust that there isn't harm, just out of view. And depending on where my head is mentally, this can either be liberating or inhibiting. Will I trust my safety? Or fear unseen dangers? It doesn't take much to tip it either way.
One day, then a second day, of fog and I start to question myself. It's hard to gain clarity when you can't see the path. From experience I know the path is there but do I want to fight my fears to feel safe to walk it?
And then, in a New England minute, the fog rolls away and the most divine and glorious day is unveiled. I breathe a joyous sigh of relief. I can move forward with a sense of direction. There are wide expanses before me and so many directions I can't count. Everything is possible. That night, the sky is filled with a million stars I can't see most of the year. All is well and I am so happy to be home.
The next morning, the fog is back. And while it's still wonderful to be here, it's not as wonderful. Being in fog can be very disorienting. From experience, you know where things are - certain landmarks, for example. But you can't see them. It's back to trust. Trusting yourself and your own memory and intuition to guide you.
And it's a bit like homesickness. Needing to see those people and places that you remember, but time and space have relegated to foggy recesses. You know they are there, but just out of sight and reach. For me, it's about trusting that beneath the fog there is always a glorious day. If I can trust that, I can enjoy the beauty and stillness of the foggy days.
I love the power of story and story telling and writing is an integral part of my healing journey. More about me here.