On long held dreams and reading Martha Beck

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I love Martha Beck.  I’ve got a couple of her books, and I go back to them regularly or check in on her blog. She is an academic ‘runaway’ with a sense of humour.  I’ve just finished reading this one from December 2014 http://marthabeck.com/2014/12/how-to-set-powerful-goals/

It was an appropriate choice given that I have been to Tasmania and back since last writing and was unable to make any dent worth didley squat in the long held goal of moving to Tasmania.  With the impetus of grief, I figured that things might stand more of a chance of manifesting if I returned there and tried again.  I hoped that the universe might meet me halfway.

I tried to buy three properties.  Lucked out on each one.  Numerous real estate agents ignored my enquiries.  I did not meet one single person who provided the right name, place, overheard conversation etc etc to lead me onto the next step.  Job applications falling into black holes, despite being eminently qualified.  Since returning I have been back to having all the old adoption related dreams as well as dreams of being stuck or delayed while attempting to travel south.

What should one believe about this experience?

I have no idea so I tried Martha’s exercise.  Hold the dream in your head for a while and fantasize about it.  Then open your eyes and translate that dream into adjectives, at least three of them.  Country garden dripping in flowers in northern coastal, high rainfall (by Australian standards) Tasmania complete with cat and husband and possibly a business being a farmer/florist = lush, loving, creative.

I did actually know this.

I also appreciate the insight that one should focus on what creates these adjectives in the present.  This is why I have just spent money and energy on building new raised garden beds.  I’ve planted a lemon tree, and hydrangeas, hollyhocks, dahlias, scabiosa and cerinthe so far.  The ranunculi I planted in the dead of winter have flowered, giving me fond memories of Grandpa.

However much I focus on the adjectives in the present, it still doesn’t get me any where closer to a resolution or a break through about Tasmania.  Should I take all the failures as means that I should just be content with where I am?  Canberra has extremes of temperature that make the garden ideal I long for very difficult.  It is full of intellectually arid jobs that make me, as Martha once said, want to poke myself in the head with a crab fork.  I try to project myself doing aforementioned jobs for the next twenty years here and I feel my flesh cringe.

Here’s what I don’t understand.  Its not like I am not really-truly-put-my-money-where- my-mouth-is acting on making this dream work. I haven’t gone ‘Oh universe, you know what I really want and you just go out there and get it for me without me lifting a finger’.  I have tried and I have tried again.  So universe, if you are not going to play ball on Tasmania, how about sending me some other new sign or direction sharpish that I can ACTUALLY understand? Coz right now, I am flummoxed.  Bamboozled.  And, ready to give up and drink myself into a stupor while poking myself in the head with a crab fork.

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