Posts Tagged ‘#WPlongform’


#Advance and Retreat

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 “Not to give up under any circumstances should be the motto of our life: we shall try again and again, and we are bound to succeed. There will be obstacles, but we have to defy them. So do not give up, do not give up! Continue, continue! The goal is ahead of you. If you do not give up, you are bound to reach your destined goal.”
Sri Chinmoy, The Jewels of Happiness: Inspiration and Wisdom to Guide Your Life-Journey

There are times when it feels almost impossible to find out why things happen the way they do. At other times the steps you’ve taken to reach a point can be all too apparent. It doesn’t always mean that either scenario is palatable.

Several months ago I determined that I was going to push myself to my limits – and beyond, in order to help with our move, relocation to Queensland. The aches, the pains, discomfort, at times the agony and tears were expected. Not always palatable but, “I’d signed up for this” so I was aware of the possible consequences. In fact, they weren’t possible but probable consequences of suddenly throwing a body, already reduced to what felt like a meagre existence limping through each day, into what was, beyond mere normalcy when contemplating the workload of packing and unpacking a household.

Since then, and our move to Queensland, there has been more of the same. Yet along with that there was also a greater sense of achievement. Here I was after so many dreary pain filled months, achieving more than I had for such a long time. My decision to make my body work, like a normal body would, in ways it had been unable to without a great deal of pain meant I would have to accept the natural consequences. The achievement, the sense of purpose made the pain and tears and discomfort worthwhile.

As the old saying goes, “I paid in spades.” Yet, to me it was well worth it. I was doing something worthwhile. That sense of achievement long missed was a heady drug which helped me feel a little stronger, a little happier and much more contented as each day passed. Such are the things we measure our successes by.

#Advance and Retreat

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I have yet to find a straight road in life. In fact, I sincerely doubt there is such a thing as a straight road through life. Each road is meant to have its bends, uphill, downhill, roundabouts and the usual missed turns which send you back the way you’ve already been. I believe it’s the way we are meant to learn our lessons. Often not simply learn them but by revisiting them, ensure we really have learnt all there is from that learning experience. Cliché’s abound for this, “Two steps forward, one step back” and “Advance and Retreat” seem the most appropriate right now, and yet, that is what life is all about.

The occasional hiccough, the down day or days when things seemed to pile up and that wonderful forward momentum trickled so slowly by, came along with the rich positives. My ever patient husband was my strength and support to help me through and a very dear friend was always ready to offer sage advice and cheer me up. Just sweeping those dark clouds away helped enormously.


So What Happened? Well, Life Happened.


I needed one final visit to the “No longer Lyme doctor” to get my Genetic Genie result explained. I decided that after going to all the hassles of getting the wretched thing ordered, completed, sent away and the long wait for the results that I might as well find out what it had to say. Learning about my genetic structure seemed a fair recompense for all the pain and heartache over the past fourteen months. In reality, it seemed ludicrous not to get something valuable from this learning experience I had been given. It was also immensely intriguing. Mind boggling but intriguing.

#Advance and Retreat

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Then he beat me to the gratifying punch line. Rather than being able to tell him I would not be returning to see him again he jumped in and said he didn’t want to see me again! Hmpf! It was, in retrospect, an odd way to put it, but the end result was the same. However, before I could say, So long, it’s been good, but”…..I was whisked into the Naturopaths office, deluged with a tonne of information and the adjuration that I needed “X,Y and Z” to correct the enzyme breaks shown in my genetic coding.

Now I’ve been through the hoops a time or two and I know how my body reacts to a great many things, especially dietary and medicinally based items. Several rather stressful episodes in the past few weeks had seen my friendly ulcer begin to act up and the attendant gastric reflux rear its burning head once more. It’s no fun at all feeling as though you have a vat of boiling acid churning inside your stomach and flowing upwards to burst out of your throat like an enraged Mount Etna! Upsetting but it was something I could get back under control with a little rest and meditation.

I did tell the Naturopath all this, explained in great detail since they seem to think you have no idea what you are talking about if you are not graphic. I explained – decisively, that anything not in capsule form would act like a gigantic irritant wreaking havoc on my stomach. I mustn’t have been clear enough. My powers of description must have deserted me since it was apparent she failed to believe me. Did I really care that these things were supposed to help my stomach and ulcer? Not if they were going to feel as if I were dying in the process.

The lowest ebb if my day is early morning at present and I was supposed to toss this vile concoction down my throat into an empty stomach to start the day. I love liquorice, but this vile stuff is not liquorice flavoured at all – it’s a pale imitation, a foil on the very word designed to befuddle and cloud the senses. Feral, foul and disgusting.

One week later and I feel too wretched to get out of bed. My throat is raw, my stomach in turmoil and the thought of a drink, not even food, is palatable. Add to that the almost indescribably migraine… what was I contemplating? This strange thought keeps circling my mind like a shark through bloody waters….”Why?” “Why did I do this to myself when I was beginning to feel so much better?” I have, yet again, paid an obscene price to once again poison myself in the name of getting well.

#Advance and Retreat

image courtesy of academyoffood.blogspot.com

Frustration, pain and anger, not a good mix for a stomach in turmoil. Nothing to show but a return to the nightmare and another email suggesting a garlic cleanse (eight whole cloves of garlic swallowed with water, no food for a day and febrile reaction, followed by a coffee enema). PLEASE.

NO! I’m sorry, but enough is enough. I’ve done everything I was asked to for fourteen months only to learn it was all for nothing – I don’t and never did have Lyme disease. I warned you I couldn’t tolerate this kind of natural “stuff” and what would happen and you didn’t listen, just pedaled your potions. A day in bed contemplating the next step has seen me decide that a polite but firm email is all I need to do. I am retiring from medical experimentation.

I’ve reached my place of clarity. I’ve had my hard-won taste of a return to normalcy. It was painful but it was an achievement of being able to act like everyone else. I’m not ready to take even a small step back to where I’ve been. There will be other ways to “fix” anything which may need fixing but not at the expense of my sanity and health. After all, what is health? It’s being able to live, laugh, move, do the normal things of life without pain and agony. It’s feeling loved and being loved and being able to love life again. Slowly but surely I am reaching that beautiful place and I will get there, without needing to pour copious amounts of money into someone’s pocket for pills and potions.

#Advance and Retreat

image courtesy of healthsaints.com

“A quitter never wins-and-a winner never quits.”
Napoleon Hill, Think and Grow Rich

Welcome back health and harmony.


I will Advance only and Retreat no more from this battle to be all I can be.


Blessings, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson July 2014


I admire and applaud all those who work in a health or alternate health capacity. What works for one may not for another and vice versa. I have recorded my feelings and responses to what I have been through and whilst they are true for me they may not be for another. I pray for good health for all people, including me. 🙂


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“Most people want to be circled by safety, not by the unexpected. The unexpected can take you out. But the unexpected can also take you over and change your life. Put a heart in your body where a stone used to be.”
― Ron Hall

Sheep, placid, easy-going and yet they can be as dumb as a fence post if you want them to go somewhere.  A friend once referred to a group of people who didn’t have an individual thought for themselves as “sheeple”. He was referring the “follow me anywhere as long as one of you are going somewhere attitude”.  Not very generous, but unfortunately it can apply to people who apparently are no longer thinking for themselves.

I’m sure you’ve seen the group mentality somewhere. If you are trying to give a seminar to a group like this it’s a long hard day’s work. If you are fortunate it will only be one day’s work. Believe me, the last thing you want to think about if you have a group like this is that you have th same group to face in the morning. Ask a farmer, I’m sure they have lots of tales to tell.

Yet that is not my sorry tale.  I wish it were.

image from sheronmerinexcerpts.wordpress.com

Many years ago when I was working as a uniformed police officer, I had worked a double shift.  In fact that is more than an understatement.  Being one of the very few police women at the time willing to work all those unpleasant late shifts, and wanting to gain experience from what occurs during those shifts, I found myself frequently being recalled back to work.

I didn’t mind, I enjoyed my work, as strange as it may sound to some. I felt I was doing some good to the community by trying to protect them from the undesirable element who felt free to relieve them of property, life or limb.  It sounds noble, but at the time it was simply a truth, for me at least. So being called back to work after barely an hours sleep was worth the discomfort.

Out of the previous two and a half days, that is three normal evening shifts which had run into overtime and being called in both nights, I had barely had four hours sleep. That would have been generous. It is very hard to unwind after a busy shift and even more so when you are working a lot of extra hours.

So in the wee hours of a Sunday morning in mid winter, I was wending my weary way back home along the back roads. Even in Queensland, mid winter and close to several creeks, it can be quite chilly and fog was swirling quite thickly in places. The heat caught by the bitumen roads simply increased the fog. I had chosen the back roads for the simple reason that it was a shorter route than the main road.

It was blissfully quiet, just the purring of my little Volkswagen as it hummed along the dark road. I was already looking forward to a hot drink and a few hours sleep.  Suddenly there was a “bump-bump” as my car went over something in the road. Stopping I couldn’t see anything, the fog was swirling in my path behind me. Carefully pulling into the side of the road I got out with my torch and walked back along the road.

A black sheep, looks beautiful doesn’t it? Unfortunately not when it is in the middle of an unlit road with fog swirling around you.  Dead as a doornail! Did I check for signs of life – well, it wasn’t moving and didn’t rouse when I approached it. Kiss of life – I don’t think so! For the life of me I couldn’t think why there would be a sheep in this particular area – it wasn’t a farm area after all, it was, if anything, semi industrial. There just happened to be a short stretch of roadway with a few houses along it.

I felt awful. I felt like  a murderer. Okay, perhaps not that bad but I was sick that I had run over this poor sheep. There was a house nearby which had a few windows showing lights in them.  So, gathering my courage and embarrassment I walked over and knocked at the door.  The conversation was short.

Me, “Umm, do you happen to own a black sheep by any chance.”

Middle aged man, “Oh yeah, Blackie, have you seen him?”

Me, ” Well, yes, it appears I may have run over him on the road.”

Man, ” I see, well, not your fault. He’s got out again and loves sleeping on the road at night. It’s warm you see. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

Me, “Oh, I’m so sorry, what do you want me to do?”

Man, ” Don’t worry about it, I’ll see to it before the kids get up. You just on your way home then?”

Me,”  Yes, been a long night.”

Man, “Well, don’t worry, off you go, can’t be expected to see a black sheep on a black road now can  you?  Cheerio.”

With the door closed in my face, (and I was wearing my uniform), I was at a loss as to what I should do next. Should I move the sheep? Should I fill in a report? (Shudder).  The door reopened and the conversationalist appeared with a large bag.  “Oh, still here? Not to worry, I’m moving Blackie now. Run along then.”

The sun was beginning to make its weak appearance. I was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. Walking back to my car I was wondering if it would start. I mean it’s only a Volkswagen, not some heavy-duty car. How would I explain to a tow truck that I had killed a sheep and needed towing?  Fortunately my little car started straight away and I went home. I wont say sleep came easily and I was very circumspect whenever I drove down dark streets thereafter.

Not my finest hour.

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

I was waiting for the imminent disaster to fall on me, or us, not quite knowing what it was and thus unable to prepare myself for it. I suspected what it was, prayed it wasn’t and waited.

Time passed and things limped along, until the day arrived when Mum had to be admitted to hospital.  I can’t even begin to say why I knew this was different. The energies around Mum seemed thick and Dad’s presence was so strong. As she always had done in the past she rallied and the hospital were almost ready to let her come home – but only after we had made an appointment to see the doctors!

image from www.the guardian.com

image from http://www.the guardian.com

It really didn’t take Einstein to work out what was going to happen. We were told very simply that Mum had finally reached the terminal stage and that because of her condition she could only go home if they (the hospital) could be assured that she would have someone with her 24 hours a day. In less than a heartbeat I discounted my business, it wasn’t important, and told them I could look after her during the days. My brother, who hated living alone and had moved home before Dad died would be there in the evenings and nights. Even though he was at home, they looked to me to settle the matter.  It was my responsibility and I told them we could manage it. I was the eldest, it was what I did.

It goes almost without saying that my children were right behind me, it was their Grandma after all. It hurt to have to tell them the bad news, but I think we were all expecting it one day, we had simply hoped it wouldn’t be soon. I say soon, we had been prepared for years but when the time arrives it is always too soon. . I thought my hubby was also “on board”. They had gotten along well in the past and being embarrassed that things weren’t great at home I hadn’t talked to Mum about it. Since I was basically supporting him, and had been all along I really didn’t expect any hassles.

Is it ironic that I truly enjoyed the months I spent alone with Mum each day? When I could see how things were and had been happening every day, I felt ashamed that I hadn’t done something to correct it. I didn’t like how Mum had been looked after as she became more fail. I didn’t like the fact that I was so preoccupied with my woes that I hadn’t seen what was happening when I visited. I hadn’t visited enough! So, without telling my brother I started spoiling her. I bought her things which would tempt her to eat, treats to make her smile, little gifts she wanted but he disapproved of. What he didn’t know wasn’t going to cause a problem and I wasn’t seeking a pat on the back for loving my mother.

If I could have given her my lungs for her to breathe instead of the horrible asthma attacks compounded with the emphysema – I would have. I couldn’t do any of those things. I could send her healing to ease things, so my Reiki training was very useful. I could help her through the attacks but I couldn’t stop them and I knew time was running out. She loved watching that crazy soap, “Days of Our Lives” and each time I saw that hourglass and heard the theme…..”like sands through the hourglass” I had to bite my lip to stop tears.  I bathed her and washed her hair, bought new nighties to brighten her days and a lead light lamp which caused a furor.

I didn’t broadcast what I considered small things to help her through the dark days. I loved her and it was irrelevant that I tell anyone what ‘a wonderful daughter I was’. It’s strange how people perceive things later.

We talked a lot about “afterwards” and I explained to her all I knew and believed. Dad’s scent was so strong in the house and she admitted she could feel him. She was frightened that there may not be anything afterwards, and I fear it was one of the reasons she clung on for so long, but our talk brought some measure of comfort and I could feel her accept that there may be more for her than she had feared.

A month before Christmas I arrived home after a difficult day of asthma attacks to be welcomed by this statement. Hubby, “This isn’t working out. I’ll be moving out on Friday. I’ll take my things when I’ve worked out where I’m going.”  For one second I was dumbfounded and then I blazed like a volcano erupting. I know my voice was like ice, as though I had killed something inside.

I remember saying, “Don’t think about waiting until then. I’m not leaving you in my house alone until Friday. Pack your bags and get out now. You can call to talk about the rest on Saturday. Now – GO!”

With a frosty glare he opened his mouth and I said, “Don’t think about it, If you don’t leave now my son will put you out.” (My son is a big man and was capable of doing just that, in fact he would have loved it. Which shows the level of discontent still in the house).

image from footage.shutterstock.com –

He left, I had too much on my mind at that time to worry about it. I was advised by my insurance company that if I wanted to be covered in the event of ‘things’ being missed later, I had to have the locks changed. He came back when the locksmith was changing the locks. Such was the animosity in hubby’s face that he, the locksmith, was reluctant to leave. Truthfully, I think I would have welcomed him trying anything. It would have been a distraction. I was becoming numb and anything would have been a welcome distraction.

But, the end was fast approaching.

Losing myself.

Losing myself.

Each day I felt I was losing myself. I had no one to talk to, I had to remain strong for everyone and yet I felt the cracks widening more and more.


Next week – Losing my way

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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“There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fire to match the nature of a day, so do I.”
― John Steinbeck


Despite the fact that I was relieved I wouldn’t be going on further tours with Cherylane, I still felt let down over how things had turned out. I spent quite some time wondering if I was, in fact, totally wrong about that I should be doing with myself.  In short, I began to wonder if I was meant to be following ‘this’ spiritual path. It didn’t help when I read about her doing her tours and going on a TV show, which she won. I couldn’t help but think of the Jekyll and Hyde and wondered what her adoring fans would think if they knew the real person. But being a bitch doesn’t change what she did and I didn’t want that as part of who I was so I let it ride.

Whether it was simply knowing I didn’t have to go on the road again, or doubting what I should be doing I found myself in a growing amount of pain. In fact it seemed to become substantially worse overnight, each night!  The best the doctors could come up with was… the usual STRESS! Then finally it was decided I had Chronic Fatigue, a name,  but totally unhelpful diagnosis. It appeared that after acknowledging I had CF that I was to ‘learn to live with it’. Rest was all I could do, that and whatever was within my ability to do without causing a flare up. I really love the “live with it” attitude I hear so often. If you’ve got a,b,or c, “accept it”, “learn to live with it” because “it is what it is”.  I must have missed out on the Saint instructions. I’m still struggling to accept the status quo. I feel if I do then I will sink into oblivion.

image from myjustliving.com

Bumping into a friend from my old spiritual circle was a turning point in many ways. I began going to a new circle she was running and the meditations were both soothing and enlightening, Apart from the rampant tiredness which annoyed me when I was meditating, the injury to my neck made it almost impossible to keep my head upright. If I rested my head back on the chair there was always the possibility I would fall asleep.  I was relieved when I was told to stop worrying about it – if I fell asleep I would still benefit from the meditation and Spirit were helping me to heal.  The relief was huge. Guilt over something outside your control can be devastating, especially if you are made to feel you are showing a lack of respect for something outside your control.

I started back with the healing group also and continued my Melchizedek training. It’s difficult to describe the experiences and feelings from the healing and the meditations we did. It felt as though I traveled backwards and forwards in time and space and during the healing, into and through the body. It was mind-blowing to put it mildly. At times I would end the meditations and healings in tears at the incredible things I saw and felt.  Whatever had happened before, I felt I was where I should be. I should add that these experiences occurred when I was giving as well as receiving healing. At least  many of the people I gave healings to said this to me.

There was a continued ‘presence’ of spirit around me. I could sense Dad’s presence by scent and he seemed to be spending more and more time with me. I would hear him calling in my sleep which seemed odd when I knew he had already passed over. Then I realised that each time Dad’s presence was the most strong were the times Mum was having an attack or was ill. Time was passing and I felt an urgency that the one thing I didn’t want to happen was drawing closer.

After my divorce I had eventually remarried. (Some lessons are hard to learn). The honeymoon period hadn’t lasted very long and things had been rocky for a while. Tensions had mounted whilst I was traveling with Cherylane and I had a household of discontent, and it wasn’t solely mine!  I started a small business working from home, healing and card reading which was working out fine. I could limit the clients to how many I knew I could manage so it didn’t overly concern me that it was only slowly growing.  There was a great deal of satisfaction as my skills at healing and accuracy with readings continued to grow. Being at home seemed to ease some of the tensions there, even if they didn’t help my health very much.

I felt that I needed to remain available, but if asked I would have been hard pressed to give anyone an explanation. Meanwhile the pain intensified. I had my gallbladder removed and was disappointed it didn’t help my health improve. It reminded me of my near death experience, well as close to one as I think I’ve had. This happened when my children were both in Primary School. If you’d like to catch up on my near death experience. Just follow the link.

There was an intense feeling of momentous change which left me feeling uncomfortable. I suspected what was coming and desperately wanted to avoid it. So I prayed, for the first time in a very long time, very selfishly, for myself. At least that’s how it felt to me. If  my prayers were answered it was not how I expected, but then they rarely are.

image from embracethechildrennj.webs.com

“Prayer is when you talk to God; meditation is when you listen to God.” ~Author Unknown

Blessings,  Susan xx

Next week – Old Doors Close

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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“Happiness lies ahead for those who cry; those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.”   Anon


I pick up just after the first tour with Cherylane. During the two week hiatus I recuperated and alternately dreaded the next tour. She called, complaining about Robyn but not willing to do anything. I didn’t feel inclined to be too nice.

The next tour went well. Everything followed the same pattern as before. Each show was great, book sales going well and a full house. On one particular night, she heaped insult on insult, adding to injury as they say. In the audience was a very well known psychic with whom I had worked  through Hay House.  A lovely person, a very kind and gentle man. When she saw us talking she motioned me to go to her.  She then demanded to know who he was, insisting I bring him back to her “room” at the venue so she could speak with him, in private, after I introduced her. She went on to do several tours with him at a later date as a result of that introduction. She also told me I wasn’t to speak with him again…. very interesting. (Another gentle pointer).

That tour finally ended and we made it back to Brisbane. I had two weeks to recover before the next tour. I needed every minute of every day just to recover enough to face the next onslaught.

Each tour was an almost identical repeat of the first and I was getting really tired of the language, being treated like a servant and frankly not really well paid for what I was doing. My back and neck were suffering from hauling more and more books around, being perpetually cold and not eating enough. Then came the show that caused a major crisis. We were at Mildura, it was freezing and neither of us had enough warm clothes.

However, after the show, the audience didn’t want to leave. The club finally asked us to leave so they could close up – smart people! Everyone who hadn’t received a message wanted to talk to her, just in case someone came through. I can’t hazard a guess at what she was thinking, normally it was “no money – no ‘show'”. So, here we are in the parking lot, no coats, freezing our butts off so she could… pretend she was caring and concerned, whilst I huddled near the car because she had the keys and wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Was I stupid, I guess so. (Another not so subtle hint). However, in my opinion, she wasn’t caring or concerned, every person had their names and addresses collected and payment details to buy her book.  Very late, freezing cold and feeling ill we finally got back to the motel which was like a freezer chest.

The next morning I awoke with a cold which caused an eruption of major proportions. Swearing and cursing at me because I might make her ill I was told to stay as far away from her as possible, get plenty of flu medication and wear a mask. A wonderful start. A fortune in medication which made me so dopey I couldn’t drive earned me another mouthful of abuse. We arrived at our next motel and followed the preset pattern. It went very well, as they all did. Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on her.

image from markmanley.deviantart.com


The tension was palpable as we arrived at the cold motel. Dinner was a few crackers, a shared can of salmon and tomatoes.  Not the fare to warm you up or even keep the wolf from the door, but by then I felt too miserable to care. I just wanted this to be over with. I seriously thought of going home.  I could feel the energies swirling round. I was getting fairly good at picking them up, even though the teaching she promised had never eventuated. Thoroughly disillusioned I crept outside to call my friend, the psychic I had originally introduced her to. I needed some clarification in relation to her odd behaviour every night which flew in the face of everything I knew. (You can turn off the connection when you need to, such as when you sleep!) Everything I thought was confirmed. I didn’t say I was working with Cherylane although I’m sure he knew. However, it could never be said that I had directly accused her of anything.

The rest of the tour progressed in frost silence unless we needed to talk. It was more than uncomfortable. It was an immense relief to get back home. Once home again I spent most of my time in bed, getting well and ready for the next tortuous trip. My decision to talk to Cherylane and find a solution or an end to this madness was solidifying.

At last I was acknowledging that I deserved much better treatment. I did my part of the work well and I could talk to the audience members about spiritual matters, after all I did have a PhD in Metaphysics. Whether I was ready to admit it or not I was psychic and getting better all the time, I just didn’t get the encouragement which would have let me see that. Not that it appeared to count for much with Cherylane. Yet to me it meant I wasn’t a rank novice and I knew what I was talking about – and picking up from the people there.

The two weeks flew past and we were off again with even more books. The days passed in a blur of tension, but dragging along at the same time. The evenings were hectic until the show finished. I think I wore a hole in my shoe from running the microphone so much. (Just one more little task for me to occupy my unfilled time). Two days into the last week she came bursting out of her room, in an absolute fury. We were in separate rooms thankfully.  She had spoken with ‘our’ friend and was suspicious that I had been speaking with him. I was told that I was forbidden to speak with him whilst I worked for her, that they were planning a tour together and it had nothing to do with me. (Lesson number three and I was listening!)

I decided I was going to talk to her once we got back and tell her that she could find someone else to do the shows with her. I had a beautiful soft explanation, rather than telling her she was an absolute bitch, so full of her own importance she couldn’t relate to anyone as well as having the morals and vocabulary of a fish wife, or an alley cat, but the cat has a reason for being cranky. I decided to wait because i refused to be accused of doing anything to mar the trip or the shows.

Beaten to the punch yet again, on the way home she announced that “This wasn’t working out. It was costing too much having to have separate rooms and she would have to let me go. She would get back in touch when finances were better and we could start again.”  (Shades of Anya but at least I had been paid something). This was delivered a few minutes before we reached my home where I was going to tell her the same thing.

Was it relief or disappointment that I hadn’t been the one to pull her up short? It doesn’t really matter. I had made the decision to leave and I felt a surge of approval from Spirit. Even though she said the words to end our association, I had already decided to do just that.

My time of working with another psychic was well and truly over.

Next week, A new circle and tragic news.Arum Lily

Blessings, Susan xx

© Susan Jamieson

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image from vgiselleh.deviantart.com

“When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny.”
Paulo Coelho,

I realise that I could talk at length about either attitude, gratitude or change so to add them into one title is possibly presumptuous.  However, it is only when we consider that each is, in many ways inextricably linked with the other that it makes sense, one might even say it becomes rational.  There has been volumes already written and spoken about all three, but what I would like to do is use each and put it into context in what happened yesterday.  My reasoning is simple, it was a lesson for me and may, in some small way, make sense for someone else.

Anyone who reads my blogs will realise that there is a cycle to my writing, I can be anywhere on a sinus wave, in the trough, climbing to the peak, at the crest or falling back towards the depths.  I thought, for a while at least, that this was because I wasn’t handling things, life, my situation well enough.  It’s so very easy to fall into that way of thinking. After all, who am I that I can say that I alone affect every aspect of my complex existence? I am Susan Jamieson in all my simple and complex existence and I love to share my thoughts through by blog, Owls and Orchids.

I have to interact with others, their situations and lives each day and by extension, these events have some impact on my day, my feelings. Learning how to prevent that will be a topic I can discuss when I have “all my little ducks lined up”. Yes, a project in the planning I am going to delight in sharing later.

Yesterday was going to be a big day – at least for me. After months of doing only the absolutes, what was needed to see doctors, specialists and people who have seen more of my insides than I ever will, to plan a day doing the little but fun things for ourselves was a golden day.  Yet, there was a small hiccough in the plan – it was hot! Glorious, gorgeous sunshine, the giver of life, was going to be raising the temperature, and mine also. It would be a test.

“Cool Change”, by Little River Band, a favourite for a long time. Why these lyrics should suddenly pop into my mind I have no idea, yet they were firmly cemented in the back of my mind. At odd times parts of the lyrics would suddenly be there. Then I realised what it was.  The snippets which kept coming back to me were telling me that my attitude to whether it was hot was, in fact, the very thing which was screwing my thoughts around. I was in an air-conditioned car and very comfortable. Everywhere we had to go was also air-conditioned, although I have to admit that in some of the places we visited, their air conditioner appeared to be struggling with the temperature too.

From there, after a few more lyrics, I realised that I was becoming more focused on how grateful I was that I was out and about.  Even if I was a little hot, it was such a joy to be visiting the people and shops where I was greeted warmly, helped with what I was looking for and left feeling incredibly happy that this was a normal day! I found that my growing feelings of gratitude was changing my attitude and I was enjoying myself, whatever the weather.

Passing the florist I was reminded of the beautiful flowers I have coming along at home. The King Orchid has already finished in the tree but my potted orchids are growing apace. The Dancing Lady is a mass of flowers and the red Hippeastrum looks wonderful with a splash of colour from the orange Clivia.  Spathiphyllum, (Peace Lily) and Arum Lily are snowy white and the fragrant Jasmin and Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow send their scent indoors each evening.

Despite the fact that I was beginning to droop from the constant walking and shopping I was still feeling buoyed up by the day. We stopped and had a marvelous latte, exactly the way we like it, and once again I felt that upsurge of gratitude flowing through me, my “Cool Change” was still running in the background.  My day was complete when I found a beautiful piece of Botswana Agate, the colours amazing and really feeling like the flow was moving not past me but through me. I was embracing the change I had been feeling all day.

Gaining an hour coming to Queensland had been a bonus and we headed off home to Byron and to our favourite little coffee shop for a bite to eat. We had not taken into consideration that most places would be closing their kitchens earlier because we had now ‘lost’ an hour. Normally this would have been enough to really spoil the end of a glorious day. The sea breeze had sprung up so it was beautiful and temperate inside or out, but we weren’t going to get the meal we had hoped for.

A few miles further on we spotted a shop still trading and ducked inside. We settled on a lovely toasted sandwich and a wonderful coffee. It was terrific to find a Di Bella coffee which is our favourite blend.

Beautiful toasted sandwich and coffee. Simple and delicious.

Under normal circumstances even finding the Di Bella may not have saved the day, but the change in attitude made the gratitude for finding something tasty, nutritious and quick was all that made the difference. It was then that “Cool Change” ran through my mind again and I realised how intricately those three things are entwined. When all three are flowing little miracles can happen – large ones too.

We arrived home truly happy with our day, knowing we can go back to our coffee shop and have our evening treat another day soon, but also knowing we both had a warm ball of gratitude inside from our change in thinking about the days events. Our attitude had been rewired and what may have been obstacles or disappointments had been changed.

For me, as well as Ray, it was a wonderful lesson which had not been difficult but very enjoyable and will help us in the future.  I truly hope it may also help you at some time.

“We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Viktor E. Frankl

There is always, always, always something to be grateful for, if we change our attitude we find the gratitude.

May your days be filled with large and small blessings.

Love always.  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson

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image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk

image from spirit_elements-www-josephinewall-co.uk


I was still smarting from the way my last friend and psychic exited my life when I started working with Cherylane. It was to be a new beginning. She was a completely different person to Anya  in every way possible.  I was determined this time to find out if the person I was going to work for and with was ethical in their work, so I ventured out to where she regularly did shows and sat in the audience. She had never met me in person, we had only spoke on the phone, so it would be an interesting evening.

What was interesting was the unexpected message I received. There was absolutely no denying it was for me, nor who it was from, and no way she could have possibly known of the connection. It was a message from my ex husband’s father so it was as much a shock as surprise.

After the demonstration closed I waited behind to say hello to her, both of us laughing at the message since she had no idea I would be there. It seemed an auspicious start.  It certainly made her ability credible, but gave no clue as to the storm I was about to be engulfed in.

Due to my loyalty in staying with Anya, Cherylane had employed a part-time office helper, Robyn, to assist her with appointment bookings. I was to take over her role and travel with Cherylane when she went on the road to do her shows. This was the first lesson that I should have heeded.  Robyn was a former client. Cherylane had complained bitterly at her lack of commitment since she had a small child and was often missing or unavailable.  She said she was eager to let her go so I could start and get everything shipshape.  Unfortunately Cherylane then decided she couldn’t let Robyn go because she felt sorry for her due to the circumstances under which they had met. (A small hint).

I could understand her feelings but when her work was affected Cherylane was not very polite about airing her grievances, at least not to me. Still, Robyn’s hours were increased, mine cut to cover the away trips only and since I had already signed an agreement with her I was stymied. Truthfully, I was keen to work with a genuine psychic, so I was willing to give the arrangement a trial, especially when she indicated that if Robyn didn’t pick up the pace she was definitely going. Plus, she also said she would ‘teach me’ as we traveled.

The first trip arrived, traveling from Brisbane to Sydney and all parts in between. I was told to pack lightly because we had to take all the ‘show’ materials. A little nonplussed I none the less complied. She collected me from home as I was on the way to the airport and I found out why I needed to pack light. She had hundreds if not thousands of brochures, flyers, business cards and books! She had self published her first book and it was going to be part of my job to sell them at each venue.  So, a smallish suitcase for me and Cherylane and two enormous bags stuffed to the seams with books. Heavy books! Overweight baggage!

It was not long after my accident and I had made sure she had been aware of the lingering back problems but apparently it didn’t factor into her plans. I had to haul one of these gargantuan monstrosities along with my bag. Timetables arranged by Robyn had us sprinting between connecting flights, different airlines so the luggage had to be grabbed and hauled to the new departure point. Not happy – not at all.  I was ready to cry as my shoulders felt they were being dislocated every time we pulled the bags along.

At each venue it was my responsibility to co-ordinate with venue staff to get the room arranged correctly, microphone and speakers set up, chairs, a room for her to ‘prepare herself’ beforehand, and escape afterwards, set up my table outside and have all the ‘materials’ ready. She wasn’t keen on separate rooms at the motels due to the cost, but circumstances changed this later.

By the time we arrived at our first destination I was shattered. I was unsure which part of me ached the most. I went to the venue and got everything ready whilst Cherylane rested up for the evening.  However, when I finished I returned to the room and went in to have a rest myself. Oh Boy! The proverbial hit the fan. She was furious and I found out she had the vocabulary of a dock worker. Unknown to me, I was expected to walk the town until it was time to shower and get ready for the performance. Eating was a poor after thought as she now decided to tell me she was a vegetarian and couldn’t be near any meat… and she preferred not to eat before a show. Wonderful!

The show went well, book sales were good (thankfully, less to haul around), and plenty of tickets had been sold. An auspicious start I hoped. It was, until we went to bed that night. The schedule called for a unappealingly early start after the late night and for once I fell asleep reasonable quickly. Until there came the most ferocious swearing from the bedroom next to me. Cursing and swearing non stop I finally went to see if anything was wrong. There was….. the spirits from the people who would be attending tomorrows show were trying to ‘get in early’ and she couldn’t shut them up and therefore couldn’t sleep. Still, the language was ripe. (Lets not forget as a police officer I used to arrest people for using that language in front of me!) Sleep was fitful and the sudden yelling, shattering to say the least.

Hollow eyed we set off at 4.30 that morning. An early radio show (advertising) was scheduled. With no prior warning or communication, I was not to know that in the somewhat frigid early morning hours I was expected to wait outside whilst she went inside and shone.  One of the radio personnel who saw me arrive with her invited me in and got me coffee.  As a result I was introduced to the radio crew who asked me into the booth with them (Big mistake). She went over fabulously but did not like sharing the limelight, even though I didn’t speak.  When the giveaways came out, and she fessed up to never wearing makeup (which I already had on) so they gave me half a dozen goody bags. Feeling quite pleased after the awful night and early start I was dismayed to be thoroughly abused after we left. This was not turning out as I expected. Lesson number two I failed to heed.

Each day was basically the same, an early start hauling the bags, dashing to either planes or venues for advertising promotional work and then to the motel for a ‘rest’. By day 7 I was beginning to realise that this was not at all the way it had been proposed to me. As an overworked, underpaid and abused lackey it fell far short of appealing. Sleep was almost non-existent and the frigid bouts of tantrums was beyond amusing.  Yet day 8 cracked all the rest to date.

Back at the motel we were sharing I arrived to find Cherylane swearing into her mobile and bashing out something on her laptop. When she saw me I was given a frozen stare and told to collect her washing and put it in with mine in the laundry a few doors away.  Oh – and to wait until it finished because someone was sure to try to steal the clothes. Cold, tired and really miserable, it was turning out to be a trooper of a day. I did meet a really great old guy there who turned up with a hot cup of coffee and kept me company for  a while, People with hearts of gold still exist I’m grateful to say.

Another six days of this and I was wondering what I had let myself in for. In a haze of pain, sleeplessness, swearing and cursing each night, being treated like an inconvenience, I was wondering if my sanity had deserted completely.  Not quite yet…. more was to come.  Home had never looked so good.

Next week, Lessons from Spirit I couldn’t deny.

Blessings  Susan xx

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This is the ship which really was the start of my biggest adventure up to that point.

My parents had decided to bring the family to Australia and we were to travel here on the MS Achille Lauro. Since I had never been on a cruise up to that point in time it was a big adventure. Leaving England and coming to Australia was a huge adventure but we had to get there first.

We arrived at Southampton late in the day as everyone was boarding and, I’m sorry to say, I missed seeing the White Cliffs of Dover as we set sail in the middle of the night.  The excitement of the trip down from Yorkshire, traveling around London in a big old black cab, catching the subway for the first time, all these firsts finally caught up with all of us and we were sound asleep when we set sail. One day I will sail past those cliffs so that I can take some photos… it would be criminal in one sense not to.

The next morning we were well out to sea with not a landmark in sight. The air was balmy, sun shining and the sense of adventure was almost enough to stop me eating. Almost, but not quite! I had never seen such a massive array of food offered for breakfast. It wasn’t a three course meal, it felt like a ten course meal. Being too excited I restricted myself to some nice and easy to digest oatmeal… I wasn’t taking any chances of being ill. I was almost beside myself with eagerness at getting up on deck and exploring.

However, my father had decreed that since it was an Italian ship, Italian crew, and everyone knew what Italian men were like, I had to be chaperoned at all times! What a balloon buster!! But, I couldn’t be down for long, there was simply too much to do and see and experience.

On the Achille Lauro, travelling to Australia

On the Achille Lauro, traveling to Australia

The dining room was enormous, of course, and each meal was an adventure. The waiters treated us like royalty, which was really great for the ego! But there was so much more.  From the front (bow) of the ship I could watch the dolphins flying past, seeming to dodge directly under the prow and leap forward once again. I could have spent all day there mesmerised by them.   This became my personal escape if I wanted to spend some quiet time and daydream about ocean travel, mermaids and dolphins and being carried away by gorgeous Italian men. (Sigh).

We, as a family of course, explored the ship from ‘stem to stern’ and as many places in between. We seemed to find ourselves in the lounge often as there was coffee there all day long and morning tea, afternoon tea and supper were served there every day. The waiters took it upon themselves to try to teach me a few words of Italian every time I had to get something, and as the eldest child, that meant quite often. I was in heaven.

Our first port of call was in the Canary Islands where the crew promptly went on strike! They claimed the ship had been loaded incorrectly and if we hit bad weather the ship would turn turtle! The Poseidon Adventure had not long been released and I had visions of drowning at sea since swimming was not my forte.

So each day we had to disembark and head into the town of Tenerife to buy our food with the vouchers the ship gave us. What an experience that was! Walking down the gangplank was the first obstacle. The local Spanish population of males seemed to congregate at first light and line the bottom of the gangway and along the pier. This was in 1972, the era of the mini skirt and ours (Mums and mine) were pretty much par for the era, that is fairly short. As we descended the gangway grubby hands darted up our skirts and pinched the tops of our legs or bottoms depending on how high they managed to reach.

It didn’t take long for us to be covered in black and blue bruises. Dad and my brothers became the rear guard to prevent as much grabbing as possible. It saved us from being crippled before the week was over. At the end of the week half the Italian crew went home and we were given Spanish crew members to make up the quota. This presented quite a problem as the Italians spoke little Spanish, the Spaniards spoke little if any Italian and we spoke neither Italian nor Spanish. I should add that the Italians at least spoke English. We managed but it became interesting in the dining room.

On one memorable day, when the Captain had decided he was going to cut close to the Cape of Good Hope to avoid ‘rough’ weather we were entertained by a few interesting experiences. To start with it was hellishly rough close to the Cape. My youngest brother was terribly seasick and the warder brought copious amounts of lemon for him to settle his stomach. For the rest of us it was fun and games getting up to the lounge. The ship was rolling badly and we had to time our dash up the stairs to the roll of the ship.  In high heels too!

Once there we thought everything would be fine. As we looked out the window on one side of the ship we could see beautiful blue sky and at the exact moment on the other side we could see nothing but blue water…. very interesting and exciting.  The bartender had few customers that day and was polishing his vast quantity of glassware. I’m not sure he thought about it too much since as we rolled through a particularly wide arc the glasses began to slide of the right side of the bar. He spread his hands wide around his glasses as we started to roll back the other way. The glasses he couldn’t hold onto went sliding noisily off the other end of the bar.  Thank heavens the tables were bolted down!

And we were only halfway there. We stopped in Cape Town for a day. There was a tour of the city which was disturbing. As we were walking along an African man fell to the ground with an epileptic seizure. As calmly as you like our tour guide continued talking and shepherding us across the street. When we suggested going to help we were politely but firmly told to not get involved. “His people would look after him”.  Our first exposure to Apartheid. It put a dampener on the excursion, but the sight of Table Mountain, right out of Wilbur Smiths books helped – a little.

From there we sailed to Durban. Just a brief stopover, but it whetted my appetite to return, one day! From there we sailed across to Fremantle.  Once again we unfortunately didn’t get to see very much. Our week delay in Tenerife meant we were behind schedule and arrived there in the middle of the night. Dad and I walked the pier for a time and I got my first little koala. I still have it today.

Next stop was Melbourne where it was raining and freezing. This was supposed to be Australia, we had left the English winter behind! We  made a dash into town to get some jeans since all our warm clothes were in the steamer trunks. We were running back up the pier to the ship as it took longer than expected, with the crew chivvying  us along saying the ship would sail without us. I’m here so we obviously made it.

image from blogs.harcourts.com.au

After this it was smooth sailing to Sydney where we were met with another problem. Originally we had sleeper berths organised for the trip to Brisbane which was our final destination. Being a week late meant that other arrangements had to be made. So, we had a lovely day being taken round Sydney, The Rocks and Botany Bay as our introduction to Australia. We were still confused  because it was still cold!  Onto the overnight train to Queensland and our final leg of the journey was commenced.

image from http://www.dreamstime.com – Botany Bay!

Excitement eventually won out and I fell asleep during the night only to wake and find Dad had left his seat next to me.  Of course that meant I had to go find him. I did track him down in the bar, having a quiet drink and a smoke with a few other stalwarts who couldn’t sleep. This meant he had to return to keep me corralled for the rest of the night. Arriving at midday the next morning was a shock to the system. It was 42 degrees Celsius and we were wearing heavy denim jeans! OMG we all thought we were going to pass out. We wanted to get back on that air-conditioned train and where were the kangaroos? We had been fed a long diet of tales of kangaroos hopping down the street and koalas in every tree and not a one in sight, just a huge golden orb that was frying our brains.

image from news.domain.com.au –

Of course no one thought to tell us that most of the houses were timber either. It was all so new we wondered if we were on a different planet. In some ways we were, aliens in a foreign land. The summer was long and hot and we burned and burned some more. And they (the school) expected us to play sport in the heat!  Cruel, sadistic and totally heartless. Fortunately we survived… I’m still here. I never recovered from the shock of getting off the train into that furnace-like heat and still dislike the summer. Then again, not everything is meant to change.

I hope you enjoyed my trip to Australia and I want to finish with the last sight anyone had of the Achille Lauro.

image fromhttp://www.ssmaritime.com/achillelauro.htm

“You can’t prepare for everything life’s going to throw at you. And you can’t avoid danger. It’s there. The world is a dangerous place, and if you sit around wringing your hands about it, you’ll out on all the adventure.”
Jeannette Walls, Half Broke Horses

To Grand Adventures, wherever we find them.

Ciao, Susan x (c) Susan Jamieson

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