A Special Piece of Writing *Anniversary Article*

From Anxiety to Stardust: My First Long Form Writing on Substack

Hi friends, exactly one year ago I published “Dare me… on how I dare myself” as an official and exclusive Substack article but this wasn’t actually the first long form piece of writing I had planned for this platform. (Substack being the newsletter and publication platform I send you this email from, through which you can also access my library archive) .

Dare me... on how I dare myself

I wrote a guest post for

Kat River

before the birth of her second son. When she decided to pause her Substack postpartum, the guest articles stopped and mine didn’t get published. Patiently waiting in the document folder for me to edit, update and share it with my audience.

I decided that today was the perfect day for it. It is a piece about the most precious treasure we could seek in life, the Grail Quest we are all on as the way to true fulfilment.

It was the first piece of intentional writing I had done outside the constraints of academia, teaching or purposeful newsletter writing. It was the spark that ignited my motivation and courage to keep writing - after years of encouragements and book propositions, I finally found my way through a massive block of anxiety and hesitation to share my words.

Enjoy.

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Being in the Now.

Celebrate the present moment. 

We heard it, we conceptualised it. We tried it.

How do we really live it?

First of all, I didn’t see the appeal in being here, now. 

I actually saw the detriment in it, of people avoiding their responsibilities by staying present in the Now.

I was so busy, so distracted, so keen on fulfilling external expectations that the need to do *anything* became internalised.

How could I be present if there were so many tasks to do to look forward to the future?

Why would I want to be present when it was more indulging to talk about the past? 

It wasn’t until I met my partner, a responsible, considerate, supportive, trustworthy and efficient (sometimes) young man, who radiated a sunny shimmer of pure presence. 

He showed me - without showing me, he simply embodied - a way I had never considered. 

A middle ground between the two polarities I perceived. A bridge of possibility. A space to explore, to balance on, to play with and to slip off and climb up.

Of course he is a human, not always in equilibrium. And the more I got to know him, the more he got to benefit from my self-reflections, mirror moments and accountability. Of course he leaned a bit too far towards the extremes here and there but I think this is another reason why I felt a sense of aspiration when being in his grounded enjoyment and trust in the moment and flow of life:

He leaned against both sides. He could sometimes be overly busy or indulging in the past - and at other times a little avoidant, resisting new challenges and giving things up to fate.

He enabled me to witness someone I respect, trust and adore practice the dance between past, future and present. In a way that I could relate with, that was just far enough out of my comfort zone to not be scary and therefore judgeable (and we all know how easy it can be to judge).

Now[August 2023] - just over two years of relationship exhilaration and a gorgeous 12 month old Son later; I reflect again on the impact of how this dance between trust and responsibility had on my life I am living.

Becoming a mother and co-parenting whilst providing for the family, juggling creative work projects, friends, community and compromising housing highlighted my personal sense of sovereign living and the needed deconstruction of what responsibility means to me.

First, I got asked to think about what I really valued. I, myself, not the internalised values or the morals that keep me safe by expecting them from others.

Second, and almost harder because nothing that can be embodied through rational thinking; it got me facing my fear of losing control. Of giving “it” up. OF TRUSTING.

Phew, what a hard pill to swallow. The realisation that I didn’t feel faith in myself, that I didn’t allow myself to trust, that I didn’t even know what this sense of unshakeable love for softening the grip was. 

Looking at the past I can absolutely see how I moved out of my heart, mainly to live in my head. 

I can see that through my past of disease and years of medication, epileptic episodes and medicated numbness, I lost connection and trust in my body.

I can see how my mind took over and wanted to gain control because it needed to, in order to keep me safe.

But after recovering, stripping away all pharmaceuticals, and actually trusting life and other people (that came rather easy to me because everything from the outside was safer than what was inside), I heard the knock of nature’s forces on the door to my heart. 

It was time to open and look within. It was time to explore the deep dark caves of wonders, in which I hoped self-trust would still reside.

This has been a long time coming. Nothing completely new, lots of steps had been taken already. But hope had to turn into conviction and it wasn’t until my partner (in his genuine surprised supportive voice) said: “… faith/trust, whatever you want to call it and in what ever you want to believe in, is always there. Like the sun behind the clouds. Even when it is nighttime. It exists, I don’t know how else you could live.”

Relief and sadness at once flooded my eyes. Relief that it was so simple, sadness about it not being easy. Sadness for not having felt it and lived with faith for most of my life. 

Free-birthing my son was an absolute testimony of how far I have come from relying on hospitals and professionals to taking responsibility for my own health and wellbeing AND that of my child. It is something I kept quiet towards most of my friends and family outside our birthing bubble because I knew the fear, judgement and intervention that would have been transmitted. Which I could absolutely relate to as it was exactly how I would have reacted years ago.

And one year into motherhood I feel like I finally arrived at a place of calm confidence that allows me to walk down the streets of my former home country.

I am currently writing this at a picturesque campsite at the outskirts of the Black Forest in Germany, where I sit underneath a shady tree, to cope with the summer temperature of 33 degrees. Overlooking a pond and hammocks.

In the city where I grew up in, studied and worked. After spending 5 hours yesterday by the beautiful river that runs amidst old townhouses, shared buildings, gardens and allotments, university departments and underneath railways and bridges from which a swing hangs for the pleasure of floating over water.

I got to meet a friend of 13 years with her almost three year old daughter and partner. Totally immersing in the moments of a holy-day.

Guiding the kids over the rocks, holding our breaths in the cold water until we adjusted and dived under repeatedly.

Staring at the reflection of the waves on the tree bark, not deep in thought but simply here. Thinking about if I should take a picture or not. Thinking about what to write for this guest article. And deciding to capture the moment. Two grey herons flying above our heads, landing on the stones nearby. Chats of family life, phases of transition and milk spritzing breasts (mine, who are now engorged as little one only fed twice last night). 

I feel my aching body from a beginning mastitis just as I look up from typing, when Sean approaches with our son on his arms, waving at me. I forgot the time, and the discomfort. I felt very present, writing about the past and pondering future thoughts. 

It is a dance. 

And it is a matter of practicing the steps that make it enjoyable.

The beautiful thing is, that despite there being steps to practice, a technique to be learned, only to be deconstructed again and improvised on… the dance is mine to create, mine to learn, to teach and to change.

As is your dance. Your own steps, movements, twists and turns, salsa, waltz or rave trance back and forth. A mix of disciplined partner tango and solo fairy dance by moonlight. 

Coming back to my home town, the place that had me all through my “heady” years, now with a new rhythm in my heart, a new rootedness in my body and sense of purpose in my soul, I truly get to practice my dance outside of the usual ballroom. 

It feels a bit like dancing barefoot on concrete instead of grassy meadows. Where there usually are trees to swirl around, there are roadsigns and traffic lights. No wonder I had to control my motions.

It feels subtly yet profoundly different to take responsibility of my expression in the outer world, with my inner realm remaining my sovereign ground. For too long I have been suppressing or controlling my within - not even able to develop movements that could be causing disturbance in the external.

Remember the adventures of knights, venturing out to meet challenging opponents, magical guides and scary nights in the dark deep woods? 

Well, for a long time I wasn’t even brave enough to leave the castle grounds. 

And I think so many of us aren´t, most of the time we aren’t even aware that it would take bravery, because why would we need to venture out at all? We have our nice homes with big screens, that tell us all about the adventures of others. Which lead to problems we don’t want to have or riches, we don’t think we could ever possess.

In my case, I had the options to make bold moves, I even had family that would have supported me doing things differently than what they have done. Yet I, despite many ideas and dreams, was too timid to leave. Out of fear that something would go wrong. 

Because “fairytales are not real”. 

But eventually life caught up and sent me benevolent companions, magical helpers and synchronistic opportunities that lead me away from the Known. 

Step by step I had to gain confidence until the Unknown became my ally. My biggest source of trust. My teacher in surrender. And, surprisingly, Knowledge of Self.

The biggest realisation was that I was governed by my anxiety. All my worries held me captive. The big dragon that guarded my tower. 

Fortunately, a friendly bard was able to identify the dragon and helped me see that I was not her. And of course, I thought - as we are taught - I had to slay the dragon in order to free myself. 

I thought that if I quit my addiction to worrying, I would be able to control my life. Oh, how I can see it now, myself, trying to let go whilst still longing to be in control. 

In the end, I actually had to befriend my inner dragon. Pat her on the back for being so protective of me. Calming her fires with repeated loving strokes on her wings and scratches under the chin.

I used to worry about every outcome, about risks and what could go wrong. 

Why? Because it would be so embarrassing to not have foreseen any of the mishaps. 

Why? Because I should be more clever, I should have known. 

I am able to predict unwanted scenarios for others, so why not for myself. I want everyone to be proud of me, to see how intelligent and smart and well planned I am. But as soon as one is able to calculate risks and see every possible outcome to such an extent, there is not much left that can be explored without anything going “wrong”. 

I had to make peace with the concept of anything being wrong. I had to befriend the thought of being uncomfortable. 

And I finally allowed the possibilities of the Unknown. When I was scared, I would feel it, I did not try to make it go away or to take the safe route. Instead I walked towards the dragon and asked her to accompany me in the dark woods.

And this changed my life.

I took my first step on my personal quest.

Enchanted Moments - The Quest for Presence.

Quest, a word we often forget when we see the word question, although it is its origin; to seek. 

We live in an era of distraction, and loss of purpose. We don´t seek anymore, we almost threw in the towel of the adventurous Unknown. 

And should we stumble across the Grail by accident, we fail to ask the Grail question. 

That which would help us enliven our soul and inspire our Mind and heal our Spirit. 

In the questioning lies the answer of the precious present moment. 

The ´oh so holy Now. 

It is a rather intriguing exploration of venturing out on a quest, only to return to what already is and will ever be. Unravelling the past to know what kingdom we grew up in, find a future destination to finally leave the court of familiarity. And arriving in the ever changing present of Now.

I never wanted to numb out, distract, dissociate or escape from life - quite the opposite after a long and misty time of physical illness and medication - yet, since becoming a mother my personal quest for presence was highlighted. Suddenly a special being, my own flesh and blood, depends on my attention, love and care. 

What a big new challenge, a whole new chapter in the book of devotion.

And one that comes with so many risks, worries, dead end roads and lots of stumbling and falls. 

But are these wrong? No, nothing more far from it. Finally I see, there is no wrong in this dance, on this quest. That doesn’t mean everything is always right either. It’s simply (not always easily) what it is. A part of the dance, a part of the quest. Sometimes its a yellow brick road and sometimes a castle of deception. Sometimes a field of flowers and sometimes a rocky road and a bloody prick from a thorny rose.

Instead of not venturing out because something could go wrong, we have to go on a quest in order to deal with the challenges that will - inevitably - present themselves. 

So, in essence, is it about not making discomfort wrong and instead owning it

When we know that something might go “wrong” anyways and discomfort will come either way we walk, we get to choose. We get to take the steps into the abyss of potential. That is sovereign responsibility. It is hard at times, definitely not convenient, but very fulfilling.

And my worries?

They are still there, sparkling in the air like stars far away. Some faint in the distance and others a guiding light. 

My beloved Sean, our son Fynn River Eoin, and me one year ago, August 2023.

To further deepen some thoughts of this piece I will host a workshop on the Grail Mysteries and how to step on our personal Quest, for paid members. I got to hold the prototype of this mythopoetic workshop last Friday at Spirit Horse, where I held it in person for participants of The Cauldron of Plenty.

The feedback was exceptional and I can’t wait to bring it to you. More information coming soon.