Rising Star

This blog is dedicated to 'Anonymously Addicted' who, in yesterday's comments, wrote:

"OMG- am I addicted?? Where's yesterdays blog Grace? TALK TO US!!!!!!"

Whilst I had in fact posted a blog the day before, it was, by my own admission, rather insubstantial.

So today I'm making up for it by telling you a story. A word of warning; it's my longest post to date and may require tissues. It's about a 5-year old me, my out-of-control tricycle, bully twin sisters and my Barbie star pendant.

My childhood home was situated at the highest point of a cul-de-sac. The land plateaued in front of our property before making its steep descent to a main road, which connected us to an adjoining court. We (my brothers and I) were not permitted to venture outside our court. It was the law; one I adhered to without ever, intentionally, breaching.

One day I was riding my fixed wheel tricycle, when I started gaining too much speed down the hill. The pedals were spinning faster than my little legs could manage and I remember feeling totally out of control as I accelerated towards the legal boundary.

There was nothing more I could do than to hold on for dear life. My trike arrested once it crossed the border and ascended the hill on the other side (to this day I am thankful a car wasn't travelling on the main road that connected the two courts).

I knew I'd be in trouble for breaking 'the law', but what I didn't anticipate was the trouble I'd be in from landing in enemy territory. The twin sisters from the opposing court were renowned for being bullies, though I'd never known it first hand. That is, not till that fateful day.

The wicked sisters of the west charged towards me, their brother in tow. Before I could retreat to the safety of my turf, I was being restrained by the boy who held my arms behind my back. They each took turns at using me as a punching bag, not to mention scratching me and pulling my hair.

I can still hear my voice crying out loud and desperately shouting at my then 3 year old brother, "Don't just stand there!" but really, what could he do? (I'm so grateful now that they didn't turn on him too).

Then they did the unthinkable.

They grabbed my golden Barbie star pendant, along with the necklace it was attached to, ripped it off my neck and threw it down the street drain.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This hurt more than the punching, the scratching and the humiliation.

That was my favourite piece of jewellery before being acquainted with my next favourite; a bluebird on a silver-plated chain. I had received the gold star as a birthday present with an accompanying Barbie doll (I'm sure the pendant was meant to accompany the doll, though to me that faux-gold star was worth more than the 'perfect plastic woman').

I don't remember much after the beating, other than being left in a heap at the bottom of the street. I was sobbing uncontrollably and attempted to retrieve my beloved Barbie star pendant. But no matter how far I reached, or how hard I tried, I could not get to it. I just looked at it through the concrete gap, crying, and crying... and crying.

Years later I found myself in Kuala Lumpur. It was the day after our 6th wedding anniversary and my husband was out buying bike parts for his impending cycling trip in north India. I on the other hand was heading to south India and preferred doing more girlie things prior to my departure, like browsing for shoes.

Our anniversary gift to each other was a romantic few nights at the Crowne Plaza Hotel overlooking the Petronas Twin Towers, which was just lovely. Only whilst I was out on my shoe expedition, I came across this diamond-studded white gold star (pictured) and thought it an apt encore to the previous night's celebration.

It instantly reminded me of the loved one I lost in that incident, bringing forth a flood of emotions. Instead of running away from the memory and the pain it regurgitated, I wanted to rise above it. And so, in that moment, I did the unprecedented act of buying myself a valuable jewellery item (albeit under the guise of an anniversary present from my husband).

This pendant is my 'rising' star.

It is my daily reminder of how I can overcome obstacles and rise above adversity no matter how big (or old) they are, or I am. It is a reinforcement to me now, and a comfort to the little girl that I grew from.

In times of self-doubt, I hold it. It speaks of my strength and resilience. It prompts me to let go of the past, with a promise that the future will be better. When I catch sight of it in the mirror, I can't help thinking that perhaps there's something else it's trying to tell me... and possibly the reflection I see, is the rising star within me.

Until tomorrow, may you seek what reflects the rising star within you.

Grace xx

ps. As I wrote today's blog, I realised the uncanniness that the reunion between me and my star all took place while I'd been sleeping in the shadows of the world's tallest twin sisters, the Petronas Towers, and my husband was looking for bike related products (quite possibly brake parts) - is that the Twilight Zone theme I hear playing?

Excuse me while I fix your life

Don't you just wish that you had a personal fairy, who is completely at your disposal, that could just whisk in solutions and wipe out problems?

There's so much new age literature, websites, DVD's, seminars and workshops claiming that we do in fact have such a fairy... it's called THE UNIVERSE. Some claim it's a secret, but is it really (a secret)? ... and is it really real?

We are to hold the vision and feel the emotions as though we already have it in the present, and voila - it becomes a reality... but does it?

When I first found out about 'The Secret', I had so much evidence to prove, without a doubt, that it worked; prime car park positions, people serendipitously coming into my life and the sudden materialisation of money when I needed it most (albeit $2 on an Instant Scratchie).

But now I wonder... is discovering the laws of attraction like discovering how many people drive the same car as yours the moment you purchase it? And just as you stop noticing your car's doppelganger at every traffic light over time, you cease to notice 'the secret' at work. And just because you stop seeing it, you stop believing in it... is that what happens?

Perhaps I'm being impatient.

Many years have passed since I was to be on the cover of TIME magazine for being the first children's author in history to sell over 1.8million copies of her first book in its first year. I was to have received a royalty cheque of $1.8million that would set up my eco-organic healing retreat specifically aimed at treating diseases created by self-repression (read that again).

The retreat was my version of an ashram, where people were not excluded by their finances and would contribute to the growing of food and maintenance of the property. It was located somewhere in Queensland, or Bali (that detail was negotiable), where the mountains met the sea. A joyful yet disciplined place, where it was mandatory to participate in activities like karaoke, finger painting and dress ups.

I was to have had a miraculous conception that lead to the natural birth of a healthy baby (or babies, also negotiable). I was to document my baby miracle in an inspirational tell-all book, which was featured on Oprah's Book Club (not to mention becoming a New York Times bestseller). I was then invited on the Oprah Winfrey show where audience members were instructed to reach under their seats to receive their free copy of my fabulous book.

As you've probably deduced, I had a detailed vision which, incidentally, covered the walls of my pre-renovated bathroom. I'd study the wall every time I had 'business to attend to' with absolute certainty it would manifest.

Then there came a point when I felt foolish. After time, and a series of setbacks, I reached a point where I began to feel the same embarrassment as I did the day I found out that believing in Santa Claus was for children. How could I be duped - again?

Hold on. Let's look at this more closely. So long as children keep believing in Santa, they keep receiving... does Santa's true identity really matter to the child that continues to receive what they're wishing for? Hmmm....

So if you are a fairy, or know a fairy, who has a bit of time to fill and several wishes to grant, I'd love to receive a visit. Nothing would please me more right now, than hearing the magic words, "Your wish is my command" or even better, "Please excuse me while I fix your life" ... I'd say, "Go right ahead, be my guest!"

With thanks and fairy dust to you.

Until tomorrow,

Grace xx