I've been thinking recently. The Law of Attraction works if you visualise what you want and think or verbalise your request in the present tense, like you've already got it (I've read).
Praying on the other hand, you're on your knees (or on your back in bed or sitting on Hampstead Heath) asking for what you want.
If you ask for what you want with the law of attraction, it's said that you will keep on wanting.
Anyway, recently, I got confused about it all and ended up trying to visualise light to counteract the darkness in my mind.
Closer online astrology knows I've been tussling with this. Must do, for this morning, they sent me this:
Astro theme for the day . . .Moon Meditation: “Connecting with the Divine…” Moon in Pisces: Have you forgotten how to pray? These days, with the Law of Attraction so big and so many people turned off God by the church’s shenanigans, prayer is no longer really in style. Do you feel switched off by prayer? It’s true that praying for something over and over again is a dangerous thing – if we’re focusing on what we don’t have in repetitive prayer, then the LOA states we will have even less of it! However, as the brilliant Doreen Virtue (who I quoted extensively last week) wrote “Do not chase anything, but instead, ask and be open to receiving.” This is very apt today as the Sun connects with divine Neptune.
Tough for me not to chase. Tough tough tough. After today though, I think I have to sit still. At the very least take my mind off housing, for there's nothing more I can do about that for I've done it all already.
Trust
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
Put forward to the exceptions panel!
A call while I'm out, having posted my letter and now seeing my lovely friend Jo, one of a handful of beautiful friends able to take my weight.
It's my son's new social worker on the phone (is he? My son's new social worker? I don't know. He is a social worker though).
"I've heard you've been given the eviction order," he says.
"Yes," I reply, but only from the housing association, not the bailiff, though I don't say that.
He tells me our case has been taken to the exceptions panel! This news, if ever I could be given news, is good. I only hope it's not too late.
He asks if it's ok if he's arranges the three way meeting with my doc. Has to be really. He says come the new year he wants me and my son to be settled and me to be"happy". He has a cheerful tone on the phone. I remember him from the transfer meeting, quite big, broad shoulders...
"What does it mean?" asks Jo afterwards.
"Oh crikey! More points! Maybe they'll place us somewhere permanent!" (Nice I hope, if that happens. Happened to mum upstairs and there were wires coming out of the walls when she moved in, mould around the window frames)
"Oh Jo!" I exclaim again, so blown away by the coincidence. "It's the universe! It's like I've sent something good out, via the housing minister, so it's sent me something good back, via a social worker!"
I hug my friend. Hug her tight with all my hopes and dreams. She can take it, why I love her sooooo much!
I have to keep hoping keep hoping keep hoping.
Keep believing keep believing keep believing.
Keep hoping believing hoping believing hoping believing.
I must have faith.
It's my son's new social worker on the phone (is he? My son's new social worker? I don't know. He is a social worker though).
"I've heard you've been given the eviction order," he says.
"Yes," I reply, but only from the housing association, not the bailiff, though I don't say that.
He tells me our case has been taken to the exceptions panel! This news, if ever I could be given news, is good. I only hope it's not too late.
He asks if it's ok if he's arranges the three way meeting with my doc. Has to be really. He says come the new year he wants me and my son to be settled and me to be"happy". He has a cheerful tone on the phone. I remember him from the transfer meeting, quite big, broad shoulders...
"What does it mean?" asks Jo afterwards.
"Oh crikey! More points! Maybe they'll place us somewhere permanent!" (Nice I hope, if that happens. Happened to mum upstairs and there were wires coming out of the walls when she moved in, mould around the window frames)
"Oh Jo!" I exclaim again, so blown away by the coincidence. "It's the universe! It's like I've sent something good out, via the housing minister, so it's sent me something good back, via a social worker!"
I hug my friend. Hug her tight with all my hopes and dreams. She can take it, why I love her sooooo much!
I have to keep hoping keep hoping keep hoping.
Keep believing keep believing keep believing.
Keep hoping believing hoping believing hoping believing.
I must have faith.
Doing something with depression, desire and fear
Papier Mache Towers,
19 October 2010
Dear [Minister for Housing],
When you have a moment, I would like to meet you. I received a letter from Downing Street in August, which I have enclosed with this letter, suggesting I contact you. You would, it said, be interested in what I have to say.
To be honest, it has taken me a while to write because my son and I are awaiting eviction from our temporary accommodation. Will your response come when we have moved? Will I ever receive it?
Soon, I do not know how soon, very soon, a bailiff’s order will fall through my letter box. The housing association has written to me instructing me it has made its application to the courts.
The local council will not make us homeless but where will it put us? I imagine the bailiff to be a man, strong with broad shoulders, who, should I resist what the council deems suitable for my child, will pick me up and eject me from our home, throwing out my son and our belongings behind us with ease.
I completed a Masters degree a few years ago and wrote my thesis on homeless families. Their stories fuel my fear.
I’d like to meet you however, not for you to help my child, but to understand the society I live in. Cutting housing benefits, abolishing secure tenancies, I fear the coalition is breaking our country at its very foundations.
I have campaigned on behalf of my child for more than 20 months. Allow me to share with you what I have learnt.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Kind regards
Sue de Nim
P.S. The above address is not fixed. You can contact me [by email or by mobile phone]. Wherever my son and I go, these will come with us.
Usually I wait to post my letters on blogspot but today, fuck it. Going out will do me some good, and for the purpose of a stamp, hopefully my small family, and perhaps yours, too.
19 October 2010
Dear [Minister for Housing],
When you have a moment, I would like to meet you. I received a letter from Downing Street in August, which I have enclosed with this letter, suggesting I contact you. You would, it said, be interested in what I have to say.
To be honest, it has taken me a while to write because my son and I are awaiting eviction from our temporary accommodation. Will your response come when we have moved? Will I ever receive it?
Soon, I do not know how soon, very soon, a bailiff’s order will fall through my letter box. The housing association has written to me instructing me it has made its application to the courts.
The local council will not make us homeless but where will it put us? I imagine the bailiff to be a man, strong with broad shoulders, who, should I resist what the council deems suitable for my child, will pick me up and eject me from our home, throwing out my son and our belongings behind us with ease.
I completed a Masters degree a few years ago and wrote my thesis on homeless families. Their stories fuel my fear.
I’d like to meet you however, not for you to help my child, but to understand the society I live in. Cutting housing benefits, abolishing secure tenancies, I fear the coalition is breaking our country at its very foundations.
I have campaigned on behalf of my child for more than 20 months. Allow me to share with you what I have learnt.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Kind regards
Sue de Nim
P.S. The above address is not fixed. You can contact me [by email or by mobile phone]. Wherever my son and I go, these will come with us.
Usually I wait to post my letters on blogspot but today, fuck it. Going out will do me some good, and for the purpose of a stamp, hopefully my small family, and perhaps yours, too.
To write or not to write
Handwritten letters, typed letters, emails and texts. I wake up each morning in this limbo wondering what more can I do to safeguard my son's future, to safeguard my own?
Running parallel, what can I do to make policy makers see my society? Do; I have to do something.
Write, write, so motivated to write, then crushed beneath the weight of my own emotions, I ask myself what's the point. No-one hears me.
I have to be bothered. I have to act. To stay on top of my emotions and not fall into that great abyss of fire, where the skin is numb and the soul is so unbearably
sad
I have to do something.
Running parallel, what can I do to make policy makers see my society? Do; I have to do something.
Write, write, so motivated to write, then crushed beneath the weight of my own emotions, I ask myself what's the point. No-one hears me.
I have to be bothered. I have to act. To stay on top of my emotions and not fall into that great abyss of fire, where the skin is numb and the soul is so unbearably
sad
I have to do something.
Playdates for my son?
Dear Housing Division,
Yesterday afternoon I invited one of my son's school friends to play on Thursday. His mum said he was 'busy', how about 'after half term?'
I stumbled on my emotions, yet again. "Yeah, sure, but I er, don't know where we'll be living then."
Momentarily she stood in my boots, you could see it in her features, and she said: "It'll be alright."
I crossed my fingers tight like the National Lottery symbol, grinned a mighty smile, and shook them in the air. "Yes, yes it will be!"
Oh the pretence. I can't pretend. She texted me later saying she'd try and rearrange her child's activities so he could come and play. She signed it 'Lots of love," and I sent her back 'a big hug'.
Our next home, Housing Division, where will you put us? Will the flat be a good size or a cell? Will my son be close to his school, close to his friends? I so want his social life to take off, to invite a friend or friends, disappear into his own room, his own den, to entertain them. Have film nights now and again. I want him to feel the joy of receiving in order to give, to entertain.
I know my options, my choices, but only you, Housing Division, can offer my child what he needs. You and Camelot.
Don't make an example of me, make one only of my child, of what you yourselves want for our country's children, while I try and go out and get that.
I'm helping you, I am, I'm bidding. You know that, I know.
Praying for a miracle,
Kind regards,
Sue de Nim
Didn't send it. What's the point? Is there a point?
Yesterday afternoon I invited one of my son's school friends to play on Thursday. His mum said he was 'busy', how about 'after half term?'
I stumbled on my emotions, yet again. "Yeah, sure, but I er, don't know where we'll be living then."
Momentarily she stood in my boots, you could see it in her features, and she said: "It'll be alright."
I crossed my fingers tight like the National Lottery symbol, grinned a mighty smile, and shook them in the air. "Yes, yes it will be!"
Oh the pretence. I can't pretend. She texted me later saying she'd try and rearrange her child's activities so he could come and play. She signed it 'Lots of love," and I sent her back 'a big hug'.
Our next home, Housing Division, where will you put us? Will the flat be a good size or a cell? Will my son be close to his school, close to his friends? I so want his social life to take off, to invite a friend or friends, disappear into his own room, his own den, to entertain them. Have film nights now and again. I want him to feel the joy of receiving in order to give, to entertain.
I know my options, my choices, but only you, Housing Division, can offer my child what he needs. You and Camelot.
Don't make an example of me, make one only of my child, of what you yourselves want for our country's children, while I try and go out and get that.
I'm helping you, I am, I'm bidding. You know that, I know.
Praying for a miracle,
Kind regards,
Sue de Nim
Didn't send it. What's the point? Is there a point?
Monday, 18 October 2010
The morning after the weekend before....
Free cds with the Sunday Telegraph and the Mail on Sunday this weekend. Time to listen but no time to read.
I cast an eye over my kitchen. It looks like a big job. In the great scheme of things it's not though. It's so teeny weeny how can it be.
So, I have a dilemma.
Read?
Kitchen?
Kitchen?
Read?
Read?
Kitchen?
Kitchen?
Read?
Float?
I cast an eye over my kitchen. It looks like a big job. In the great scheme of things it's not though. It's so teeny weeny how can it be.
So, I have a dilemma.
Read?
Kitchen?
Kitchen?
Read?
Read?
Kitchen?
Kitchen?
Read?
Float?
Weekend telly
"You always find men in kitchens at parties! You always find men in Kitchens at partieees!"
A catchy tune, a cool ad, young thangs bopping with cocktails in hand having a wicked time.
Not MFI, Ikea! Within reach! Within reach?
My son has a friend whose kitchen is bigger than our entire flat.
I begin the day on a dream..........
A catchy tune, a cool ad, young thangs bopping with cocktails in hand having a wicked time.
Not MFI, Ikea! Within reach! Within reach?
My son has a friend whose kitchen is bigger than our entire flat.
I begin the day on a dream..........
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