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05/07/2022
This isn’t about men

This isn’t about men.

I don’t even know if we can call it the patriarchy, as really what does that mean.

It’s about a system.

A warped one.

A broken one. 

A system that rewards all the wrong things.

We’re all impacted by this system.

Even the ones leading it. 

I know when I speak about my passion for women’s empowerment, it’s not to overthrow the men. That’s the last thing on my mind. 

After all, a balanced world needs both. 

Rather it’s to remember, reconnect with and reclaim our true source of power. To get off the treadmill of a broken reward system. To stop feeling that to be a woman we have to be a certain way, do a certain thing, dress and look a certain way.

And men will need to do the same in their communities.

The time is nigh, we can’t keep going on as we’ve been going on.

This isn’t a time of passivity, this is a time of turning around and heading in a new direction.

My passion and driver isn’t a fight against men. It’s not even a fight.

It’s not us against them. 

It’s a big WE. Because we need all of us in it.

It’s for a dismantling of a system that has hurt every single one of us, in a variety of manners. Some more obvious than others, but all hurts count as WE all count.

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02/06/2022
Reclaim your body. Reclaim your nature. Transform you life with a goddess infusion.

I bang on about two things a lot. 

The need for us as women to turn towards, and not away, from our bodies.

And…

The need for us as women to sync in with the rhythms of nature.

I bang on about it because I truly believe this is the medicine of our times.

The extremes of our menstruation, infertility and menopause problems aren’t normal. Neither is the consistently rising numbers of eating disorders, autoimmune conditions, burnout and exhaustion cases. They are a direct result of these two things.

As is our climate problems because looking after nature involves looking after ourselves; we are one of the same. In the opening of her seminal book, Women who run with the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes …. “It is not by accident that the pristine wilderness of our planet disappears as the understanding of our own inner wild nature fades”.

In our single minded focus on getting women into leadership positions or on sports teams with equal standing, we’re still forgetting these two crucial truths. And, we’re forgetting that the systems and structures have not been created for us — what may look good on the surface level can be creating injury at a deeper level.   

So I have a vision.

A vision to change this.

A vision for us as women to turn towards and embrace our unique bodies, to honour our cycles, to reclaim our wildness and our wisdom and to live aligned with the cosmic rhythms of nature.

 

In doing so we:

  • discover the power we’ve long been seeking outside of ourselves
  • find our true source of fuel and energy
  • reclaim our wellbeing and self-regulate our wired nervous systems
  • experience our beauty and radiance and learn how to let it shine
  • unveil Mother Nature as our most valued teacher.

We heal. And the world heals with us.

And we need no boardroom or playing field for this.

 

Goddess Infusion Retreats is one of my offerings to this vision — a six-day immersion for 10 women in the hinterlands of Byron Bay on the exquisite 22 acre forest sanctuary of Soma Byron. 

This sacred land of Byron has been specifically chosen because it was where I first remembered these two truths and where I first reconnected with this ancient, knowing feminine essence within me.

Goddess Infusion Retreats is an exploration of you as a woman so that in coming back to HER, you return to your life outside of the retreat transformed. 

To help you do this, the retreat provides three things:

  • a break from the thinking, doing, planning and strategising, which is gifted to you by a fully curated program and held container where you don’t have to organise anything for yourself and can surrender to the flow
  • an escape from the busyness of modern city life and returning to the most natural of habitats, where your true reflection is best sourced
  • activities and practices that help you to unwind, release and feel so that you can reconnect to your womanly body and your innate feminine essence

 

This is no normal yoga or meditation retreat. Actually you won’t experience either.

But you will dance, sing, play, create and move. You will greet the sun with a beautiful morning routine. You will sip warm drinks and share stories by the evening ceremonial fire. You will be nourished with food from locally sourced, regenerative and sustainable farming. You will visit sacred spots and participate in exquisite nature rituals. You will relax, be pampered and nurtured. You will feel your body and experience its splendour.

Every presenter and facilitator, every smell, sound, sight, touch and taste, every practice, every ritual, every ceremony will assist you in turning towards yourself and life with greater curiosity, openness, kindness, tenderness and compassion.

 

Is this what you need now?

To find out more visit the retreat page.

I’d be delighted to have you join me in my quest.

With love

Sharon

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26/04/2022
An Ode to Mother Earth

With my feet grazing the prickly blades of grass and my limbs soaking in the midday sun, I wonder why we need a day to remind us to protect earth.

It’s not a new thought. I wonder this each and every year. 

How did we get to a point where we need a day to protect our Mother. 

She, the Great Mother of all of us.

She who nourishes, nurtures, protects, heals and houses us.

She who we each carry a slice of.

When we talk about climate change action and sustainability and green living, I feel we miss the point.

Those phrases sound like we’re talking about something outside of us, which it is not.

She is within us.

We are cut from the same cloth.

One of the same. A blend of earth, water, fire and air.

What we do to Her, we do to ourselves.

What we do to ourselves, we do to Her.

So I bury my feet deeper into the patch of grass and say a prayer of sorts, also a blessing and a thank you.

For my legs the tree trunks, my skin the bark.

For my smile, an upside down rainbow.

For my eyes, the pearliest of spring buds.

For my voice, the wild echo of wind.

For my juices, waves of salty sea. 

For my womb, the nutrient-rich bed of soil.

May today we remember the inextricable link between Mother Earth and us. 

May today we remember our flesh is a mirror of Hers.

May today we remember everyone we’ve ever loved has been returned to Her as dust, as shall we.

May today we come back to earth.

Image: @carlwarnerofficial

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25/01/2022
Star-Dust

It is often only when we come to the end that we realise we are made of both stars and dust. 

A part of us floating upwards, another sinking down.

A part of us mingling with the clouds, another with the seeds.

A part of us joining the light, another merging with the darkness.

 

If only we realised that now, while we are still the link between the two places.

Neck stretching high and feet pressed firmly on the ground.

Eyes witnessing the cosmos and toes digging in to the dirt.

A channel for the divine and a replica of the mother.

 

What miracles we are to be made of star-dust.

Neither element better than the other.

Combined a force to reckon with.

A gift bestowed on us and yet rarely received in full.

 

With this knowing, stars are not just stars,

They are the faces of all who we’ve ever loved.

And dust is not just dust,

It forms the open arms of all those who’ve ever held us.

 

And we, the blessed ones, who still get to feel that love.

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30/12/2021
The Tides of Life

We’re always moving away from something and towards something simultaneously. 

 

It’s the nature of life to cycle.

For the moon to wax and wane.

For the tides to wash in and out.

For the sun to rise and set.

For the seasons to change.

For our bodies to wake and sleep.

 

It’s the nature of life to have one step in front and one step behind.

For a new flower to be blooming as an old one falls off.

For a door to close as a new one opens.

For life to be born on the day death arrives.

 

As we’re saying goodbye to one year now, another one is about to say hello.

Can we own them both – the goodbyes and hellos? the births and deaths? the blooming and shedding? the rising and setting?

 

Is it not unrealistic nor living within natural laws to wish one only good times? Is life not made of polarity?

 

Rather may we wish one another the grace to be with the sun, the moon and the tides of our own life and those we love.

May we have people to sit with us by the shoreline, holding our hands, as we traverse the shifting seasons.

May we take the time to inhale the sweet scent of the new blossoming flowers as we also witness the old ones exhale and fade to mulch.

 

This is my wish for 2022 🙏🏻❤️

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26/01/2021
In perimenopause, my body began to feel like an unfamiliar place

Moving into perimenopause has been reminiscent of my early teens, a time when the world within my body began to feel like an unfamiliar place.

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/in-perimenopause-my-body-began-to-feel-like-an-unfamiliar-place-20190918-p52sj9.html

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26/01/2021
To strikeout or surrender 2020

Strike out 2020.

I’ve seen this a lot. And it bothers me.

How can we eliminate a whole year of our lives, and why would we want to?

A decade or so ago a friend was turning 40. At the time, she was dating a man 15 years her junior. She hadn’t told him her true age. She thought he’d leave if she did. To him, she was still 35.

When her momentous birthday arrived she didn’t know what to do. Eventually she caved and shared her secret. He was annoyed at her lie, but also flabbergasted as to why she’d want to even lie.

“Which five years are the ones you want to press the delete button on? What would you have missed by not living those years?” he asked.

He was a wise 25 year old, perhaps, much wiser than her. All of his questions piercing and important.

I’ve thought about that episode many times since. I particularly thought about it during a chronic illness of my own which lasted five years. There were days in those years that were aching to bare. There were months in those years that brought me to my knees, time and time again. And yes, there were hours in those years, where I probably wanted to get out the black permanent marker and strike out the day.

But there were also moments in those years, tiny, almost missable moments, which were pure magic. Moments when I understood why we chose to walk on this planet. I discovered the green eyes of our cat. The actual shade of green. Fern, I labeled them. I noticed jacarandas for the first time ever, I mean, really noticed them. I saw a whole year change through the transition of one tree on the front lawn — from the stark branches of winter to the buds and blossoming of spring, then the emergence of satin-like emerald green leaves before the blush of russet, crimson and gold took over in autumn. I understood why a mother is given hands; so that she can caress the back of her daughter’s skeletal frame when nothing else could touch it. Perhaps, more than anything, I got to uncover the tenacious strength and raw appetite for life that existed deep within.

I don’t believe I ever would’ve noticed any of these if it wasn’t for the darkness.

Looking back, all of those years counted. None I’d wish to turn my back on now. Each taught me something about life. Every one is etched in my skin. And, I wouldn’t be me if I wouldn’t have lived them.

So striking out 2020 is striking out who we are today, at the end of 2020. Who wants to do that?

Our culture strives for perfection. For a kind of sanitised existence that means we are using hygiene protocols in more ways than just to protect us from COVID-19. We prepare for the worst by trying to avoid it. Ultimately, everything we do is aimed at escaping death.

‘Don’t waste a crisis’ is another motto I’ve heard this year. I prefer that one. Rather than striking out 2020, it’s about fully engaging with it.

Maybe this year we got to see our pains. Both at a macro and micro level. We found blocked drains in our societal structure. We found blocked drains in our lives. We hurt. We cried. But we also lived. Because without polarity there is nothing.

How can we become fully alive, whole individuals without experiencing challenges and years that are unlike any before? This was, and still is, a crisis we don’t want to waste.

I went to Daylesford last month. I was finally able to drive more than two dozen kilometres. I sang in the car the whole way there. I’d never been so excited to see the untamed wild and the endless country sky in my entire four decades of being earthbound. I woke up to the mating calls that travelled in the moist dawn air. I spent my evenings watching the birds take their positions on branches and power lines for the dusk orchestra. I slept with the moon casting shapes and shadows on my bed. I drank from wells that coated my tongue with the taste of sulphur. I felt my life-force surge through me and mirrored around me. It was a sweet topping to the more bitter precursor.

In the thesaurus the opposite of ‘to strike’ is listed as ‘to surrender’. What about if we elect to surrender to 2020 in all her tainted glory? See her as the year she was, with full 2020 vision.

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24/03/2019
The Imprints of Life

Salty wet kisses sliding along the nape of my neck

Fingers dancing on my skin

Sticky palms meeting in the middle 

Life

Piercing eyes warming me from the inside out

A familiar scent reminding me of home

One breathing in; one breathing out

Life

The mid-day sun beating down on my bare shoulder

The pebbly sand forming irregular shapes on the soles of my feet

The westerly winds leaving wisps of hair in the crease of my mouth

Life

Smiles and sighs

Laughter and cries

Tender hearts and butterflied bellies

Life

Moments felt within my body

Moments lived through my senses

Moments experienced without thought or words

Moments imprinted,

As life.

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22/03/2019
The Wild Woman

She isn’t just a woman who moans and howls, although she can.

She isn’t just a woman who wears feathers in her hair and paints ink on her body, although she can.

She’s a woman who knows how to connect to her instinctive nature. This is the wild in her. This is her power and her beauty all in one.

A wild woman isn’t crazy, yet she’s gracefully untamed. She moves like a cat, she smells like the sweetest flowers, she glows like the moon and breathes like the wind.

A wild woman, like an animal, is a woman who knows how to be in her own body with ease.

She’s as strong as the roots of an old tree, yet as exquisite as its spring blossoms.

She’s soft, tender and juicy like the ripe pickings of summer fruit. 

She’s as vast and as majestic as the mountain ranges that greet the sky. And as free and flowing as the waters and lakes streaming off them.

When you meet a wild woman, you meet a woman who knows where she comes from.

A woman needs to spend time in the wild to access this part of her. To walk barefoot on the earth; to bathe under the moonlight; to feel her skin touched by the fire of the sun; to immerse herself in the ocean; to grow her own food; to chase butterflies and to listen to the songs of birds.

In doing so, she starts to hear a voice. This is the voice of her own knowing. This is the voice that guides her home.

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12/02/2019
Holy Awe

It never fails to make itself known when you need it.

It’s the faith you receive when your mind has no answers and your heart starts putting up its shells.

It’s the voice which quietly says: It’s all ok, I have you in my plan.

It’s that invisible hug you allow yourself to feel; the one made of a mix of warm breezes and the whispers of trees.

It’s that captivating sunset letting you know that although you’re not really in control, life still has your back.

It’s the black crow that flies overhead, the feather that appears on your path and the butterfly that perches on your fingernail bed; all at just the right time. 

It’s simply what makes sense when nothing else does.

As I stood watching the ocean foam form its large white blanket, the ever-changing waves appearing as if a patchwork of creases, I felt its presence.

It, is holy awe.

I arrived there feeling tainted by life, questioning my decisions, confused by my circumstances.

There the ocean called to me in its rage; the water crashing noisily at the rocks. The day earlier the same ocean had been still and serene; the sunrise magnificently glistening over it. The apparent instability of its movement being its one certain nature.

Holy awe is positive fear.

Holy awe is what I don’t understand, yet know I’m a part of.

Holy awe reminds me of my smallness, yet also invites me into my expansiveness. 

It’s something I will never capture. It’s something I will never own. It’s something I will never see.

But if I just allow myself to, I can always feel it.

As a person who likes to solve problems with my mind, holy awe has proven exasperating.

As a person who needs to know when, why, how and with whom, holy awe has proven slippery.

As a person who likes words and conversations, holy awe has proven baffling in its language. 

Yet as a person who wishes to yield to life, holy awe has proven to be my saviour. 

The very one thing I can rely upon. 

The very one thing I can surrender to.

The very one thing that is.

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