Come away from your memory into your imagination.

I know you’re facing another day not knowing if you need to hold on or let go. I know the weight of trying to make up your mind whether you have a decision to make, or whether you need to simply allow things to play out, literally keeps you paralysed, and you feel like you can’t move. To throw things in the air and see where they land? Or to go inside yourself and resist change for the sake of change – a tactic that’s gotten you in trouble so many times before?

You know, because you’ve learned, when things are this way, it doesn’t matter where you go, those things will go with you. And who wants to start again, again?

There’s this temptation to believe your indecision about what to do next is as much a sign of your less-than-ness as the damn thing you’re trying to fix.

Darling, just know, you’re going to be okay.

One day you’ll wake up in a different place and realise changing where you are didn’t change who you are.

The work is before you. This work will never go away – the work of brave becoming. Whatever you choose, do not choose to try and achieve some state where you can avoid the work of knowing and loving yourself better. Don’t choose to be numb. Don’t choose to sleep. Don’t choose to be deaf, blind, busy or out of it.
Don’t choose change because it gives you something else to do, something other than being present with yourself, in this moment, opening up wider to accepting and knowing and being.

Choose to be awake. Choose to be present.

Your circumstances will shift, change and transition, as you choose your way ahead. You’re smart, wise and brave. You’ll figure this out. Don’t panic. The pain will pass. The regret will pass. Let the shame go. It’s not a sign of self-awareness, you know, to hold onto shame. Being ashamed isn’t a sign you know what’s really going on and accept your part in it. Shame is forming an imaginary judge in your mind, the most disparaging, vile and accusatory character you can invent, and making choices as if that imaginary person was right in front of you. Shame is assuming that imaginary judge is telling the truth about you, and you have a responsibility to listen to everything they say, and believe it. Fire the judge. You need your imagination back. You have a future to choose yourself into.

Come away, dear one, into the wilderness. Away from your memory, into your imagination.

Take a breath, sweet friend. Close your eyes and listen to your breath. Your body knows what to do to be alive, to thrive, and it doesn’t even need you to think about it. In, out. In out. How much more do you think your vibrant, God-given spirit knows what to do? Trust your heart, your gut, your spirit. Listen to your God-breath. You know. You know.

Selah, dear one,


New beginnings.

If I’d lost this blog* six months, twelve months, two ago, it would’ve been a different story than the one it is.

That website was really the hub of my identity for a long time.

It began as a place to vent my shock and grief as Ben slid into alcoholism. I remember publishing my first post and thinking “Well, that’s it. Nobody will ever speak to me again. The whole world will read that and hate me. I’m in for it now.”

Nobody read that stuff but me.

Over the years, I blogged about mostly my cancer experience on that website. Good news and bad news. Struggles with writing my books, which I always worked through. Hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of visitors. I made a living through that portal to the known universe. And it wasn’t even real, just code in a computer.

The things I said on that blog changed my destiny. Made me friends, allies, maybe even fans. It was the me people could look at while I wasn’t around, so they could decide if I was safe, if I “knew the code”. Many decided yes, and I thank you for that.

It was a big part of my life, that website. Extinguished. And now, of all the times. Right after I surrendered my cancer identify. And my house. Oh, and salary. And any safety, predictability and security. That niche in cyber world was like my shop front, my last little hole in the wall of the world where I could hide, or perhaps hold up and say, “I know I seem crazy, but I have this! I made this! This is me! I have credibility!” Maybe it was never that. Doesn’t matter now. It’s gone.

Yesterday morning I spent an hour in the deepest meditation I’ve ever had, focusing on Gods love and my worth, and on being supported completely, and trusting Him for my whole life. I was confused about the business side of my creative enterprises, and why it all seemed undefined to me, and others. I had a talk with Ben for almost an hour troubleshooting and decided on what needed to happen. Keep my blog for my writing, set up a separate website for my business. Sat down to login and begin, and wham. Website, blog, all my work going back months and yes, years, deleted. Wiped. I neglected to back up since before Christmas. Just lazy, I guess.

I remade my website just a few weeks ago, and did my best, most intuitive and focused writing since then.

I have some rough drafts saved on my hard drive. But those polished gems are stolen away.

I think the fact I had an hours meditation just before it happened helped. When I found out, I was okay. It surprised me.

I think this is the only way it could have gone, and it had to go. I’d never have been able to do it.

So it’s okay, I’m okay. There is a little rebuilding to be done, as I lost another website as well – Yai’s book site, and as he is trying to raise funds for the current crisis in a south Sudan through his book sales. I’ll have to get him a new site ASAP. So much work, all lost.

But now is as good a time as any to begin this new chapter. Time to look forward and trust. Time to let go.

And to those who seemed worried this was my sign to stop writing, no way. The best is yet to come,

Love, Jo xxxx


*On the 15th of January, this website was hacked and deleted. I lost five years of blogging, writing and book drafts, everything not backed up – which, I’m ashamed to admit, was quite a lot.