Anatomy of An Awesome Life

The water supports me like a delicacy it has found, and considers from all angles. The odd fish flashes by, nonchalant at sharing its home with me, this haven I have chosen for my mind. The sparkling waves and colours of the low sun spritz warmly over my consciousness and then it’s time; the practitioner brings me back into the quiet room. She leads me from my happy place back to the initial discomfort that I came to change. She asks me to bring it back, the bad feeling, the knowing. I can’t. It is peaceful, it doesn’t bother and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

This is the wonder of a FasterEFT session. The deep but simple effectiveness. The realisation that I get to choose how I construct and see the world. Uncomfortable memories are changed and emotional charge is released. Beliefs and memories from childhood arise, and unconscious programs are illuminated which kept us safe at the time but from which we’ve blindly operated ever since. This is even if you’ve had a wonderful childhood, like me. The point is we are all grown up now and releasing perceptions and programs that no longer serve, help us align with what we want now. “FasterEFT is changing how the subconscious mind encodes, processes and reproduces events from the past. We are not just releasing the emotions from our experiences, but also actually changing the way we hold the experience,” says founder, Robert Smith.

You are a powerful creator. We are not a victim of our genes, according to stem cell biologist, Dr Bruce Lipton, known for his groundbreaking work on Epigenetics. The cells in our bodies respond to our thoughts and perceptions. Negative, limiting thoughts affect us. Science reveals that 70% or more of our subconscious programs, lead to limiting, sabotaging beliefs that are self-destructive. “And this is why we can’t get out of our own way because we didn’t even see we were in her own way because we were doing it unconsciously,” says Lipton. So if the world mirrors what we think about it and ourselves, why wouldn’t we shine it up into happy, successful, positive, and peaceful to produce these exact things. “You have full ownership of your mind and you have the ability to control what you feel, see and hear. You are in charge of your mind and body; therefore you are in charge of the results,” says Smith.

Stress is the body’s reaction to perception. According to the American Medical Association, 80% of all health issues are stress related. In a FasterEFT session, we go to the subconscious where the memories and perceptions are, we tap on meridian points, we let go. We reimprint a good memory over one that’s causing stress. We let go the stress that is created in the organs in our bodies. We let go self-defeating patterns and negative views of the world. After all, you get what you focus on – the good, the bad and the ugly. We lose what needs to be lost to find what needs to be found. Emotional intelligence is a wonderful acquisition.



I’ve been letting go of lots. I’m enabling positive, healing thoughts. I’m calmer. I tap away stress when it shows up, and I tap in awesome affirmations daily. With FasterEFT I’m cleaning out the old dusty cupboards of the mind and how I represent the past, present and future. It’s the ultimate clean-up. And my world is changing.

  • If you are interested in booking a FasterEFT session with Darene (Level 1 practitioner) email

On the Road

We’re on a shimmering open road that smells of Summer, careening to some future place that pulls us forward, my youngest son and I. I’m fixated on him as he drives us, his cut jawline, runaway curls and strong hands on the wheel.

on the road


Bush, trees and blue skies fly past in fused colour that catches, bulges a thought, then lets go, shredding it to the wind. Sometimes thoughts pulse a pleasure that tingles into my being, or a pain that tissues into my gut. Pain that equals the end of something. It’s me and him hustling time out here, him and his music in joyous explosion at having written his last school exam ever. EVER.

I realise this is the moment where he leaps magnificently into the world, fully extended, drawing back on everything and reaching forward to everything else.

And I will always be his Mom.

on the road

Her dance. My song. Our time.

I heard of a woman whose moment of overwhelm in a supermarket choosing yoghurt, became a metaphor of an unlived life in which she didn’t know herself at all and couldn’t go on in a job she despised, that made her feel sick.

I learnt of a woman, who decided she would dance at her 60th birthday in the most loving celebration of her body in its softness and imperfection after releasing a long career as a professional dancer, endlessly and impossibly striving for a perfect dancer’s form.

I read of so many women struggling with permission to create their moments, their lives, wondering painfully if they were in fact good enough to expand. What If they they could finally release old patterns, old programs, the dead weight of guilt and fear? They would surely rise to dip long fingers into the Earth’s core, drawing up its shimmering liquid life force, and then summon golden light from around and above, from the beginning of time, to anoint their presence, not prepared to waste another minute wondering if they could, or should. These women would leap longingly into the burning brightness of themselves, because not taking the leap would be too painful.

I understood why I sang at my 50th birthday. Because it was too painful not to. To stay crouched. I yearned to take up the full length of space in which I exist after too much time mute. Stilted. Off course. I opened a gift and chose to luxuriate in me and continue to open the gifts of greater living in this world that still remain and ache to be received. I know I have generations of women built inside me, who will me towards the conscious, courageous me, who keeps unfurling. In my dreams I’m singing my song, you’re dancing your dance and we’re in full celebration. It’s time.

Winter, wealth and a wild life

I tell you, it’s been a tame Winter so far. I’ve barely left behind my cold outdoor showers amongst the orange blossoms and unearthed my Uggs. That’s just how it is in Queensland. Divinely Winter. Coffees with the girls across from the river in soft mellow sunshine are just the bomb. The cyclists are glistening in lycra, the guys just off their ocean kayaks are warming up with a fresh brew. A recent coffee and chat morning down the coast led me straight into a 30-day money challenge group with (mostly) women from around the country and world. You soon discover that to dismantle those limiting beliefs you hold about money you have to clean up your stuff. The way you see the world, others and “”central station” YOU. It’s about tweaking your inner wealth. And that’s where the honey is. It feels so good to be a student of the world, the universe, delving into spirit, mind body connection and self healing. I love the inspiration, appreciating everything anew, unpacking truth, setting intention for self-love and care, claiming the goddess edge in my family of men.

The yellow-tailed black cockatoos soar overhead at this time of the year, calling out the season, leaving a trail of munched Banksia cones on the beach path. Flocks of Rainbow Lorikeets skim by in a chattering mass of colour. Mmm, Winters in Queensland.
And here I am, running wildly, barefoot on the beach pressing my feet deeply into the sand, sending energetic roots down so Earth holds me, the dreamer, steady. Next thing I’m off into the void but cleaning chakras intently.


All the tools we learn on this amazing planet give us the gift of consciousness. They allow me to return each day to embrace the hectic rush of a work day or a day of home work, and mine its gems. It helps me lift myself up time and again with forgiveness, to try again. So yay to peace and days of wonder. Live your wild and precious life keenly. Be kind, be open to the mystery of it all. Live with a kind of surrender.

Physician and spiritual seeker, Lissa Rankin sums up the mystery we breach. “While we participate with 3D reality and while we play a role in the co-creation process, perhaps we are not masters of our destiny. Nor are we victims of our DNA. We have many tools in our toolbox, whether they be conventional medical tools or metaphysical tools, but we are not in control of the outcomes of our lives or anyone else’s. This is an uncomfortable thing for many to admit. Both practitioners and patients prefer to believe we are in control. Messages ranging from the Western medical system to energy healers to The Secret suggest that we can control our destinies if only we try hard enough. If conventional tools don’t work, just try harder with your metaphysical and energy tools. But what if that’s only part of the picture?
I suspect we exist somewhere in between- in that humble space between stories, where we don’t know- and perhaps we don’t want to know or need to know. Perhaps there is a greater plan that our conscious minds can never understand. Physical or mental illness- or financial difficulties, relationship problems, the loss of a loved ones, or other heartbreak, loss and disappointment- may be part of this larger plan….
If I believe anything, I guess I believe we are here in service to a cosmic plan- and our soul’s blueprint has optional assignments we are invited to fulfill as part of this cosmic plan. Yet this plan is a mystery. Charles Eisenstein calls it “the invisible path.” Perhaps we are given clues about how to walk in impeccable alignment on the invisible path- through our bodies, our intuition, synchronicity, knowers and seers, the traditions of the indigenous people and other wisdom keepers. Yet we can never know this path. There is no certain map, no foreseeable plan. Perhaps we are never meant to know the plan- or rather, we’re only given information about the next steps on a need to know basis. When we admit this, we stay humble, willing to not know as we navigate the space between stories.
But there again, I don’t know.”

A Case for Blue

I felt the thrill of possibility when the editor of Vogue Living Australia announced this month that blue is the new white. Neale Whitaker said it was having a marked collective moment across fashion, art and interior design, and illustrated his point with glamorous homes in sexy cerulean, from Lake Como to Morocco.

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A designer home in Sydney’s Darling Point, Vogue Living Australia March edition


WhiIe I love blue, I have to say it is more of a cousin in my colour wheel. My home is foremost a white canvas and I don’t care if dogs traverse my white leather couches, young ones smudge sweaty after-sport feet or nieces and nephews finger-dot sticky sweets on my haughty off-white velour chaise. Everything is washable, is my mantra and my ode to white living. Having said that, it’s a big hello to pops of colour, okay.

This amazing Noosa home does the "blue thing" well.
This amazing Noosa home “does blue” effortlessly. Image courtesy of Facebook


But let me admit, the thought of turquoise domination makes me twitch. When we moved into our house, it had a navy roof. Now the entire house is Baker’s white. A designer, striped chaise got covered in a shade of cream after a few years of “putting up with it”. Naturally, I always have a tin of Baker’s white handy for spontaneous, odd transformations, to bring dark objects back to life. To demonstrate my deviance, a few weekends ago I spent a day white-washing a garden wall I’d previously painted teal in the spirit of adventure. As luck would have it, soon after, my soul ached for the purity of white. Alas, my crockery is white, my tea and coffee cups are white. My bedcovers are crisp, billowing white. Just today I tried to buy a garden suite with cushions as white as the driven snow. My interior decorator friend winced with fright and quickly warned me off. Shortly after I attended an underwear party and, yes, you guessed it, I bought bright white.

Now don’t get me entirely wrong, I really do love blue. I absolutely love my indigo shaded jeans, a jot of electric blue eyeliner, the excitable shade that is my boys’ eyes, my huband’s gaze. I couldn’t be content in a world without the rhapsody that is blue. Blue flowers, butterflies, the aqua hue of a Transkei hut on a dusty African road.

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Blue has my heart in our azure oceans which lure me in relentlessly, and our indelible and beautiful blue planet that spells life. it is a very desirable cousin indeed.

a case for blue

Yes, I do love blue, but blue can wait. Or rather, find a better devotee. I fear I’ll be off to de-lid my tin of Baker’s white before long.

* The featured image is courtesy of Rachel Kennedy Designs.

The Muse, all Mothers and Me

The six of us have had a beastly power struggle this weekend. Me the writer, the Mum, the business owner, the wife, the daughter and the friend. It’s not new, it’s the way it is, of course. It’s just that some days it’s a wretched battle for top dog time and the writer has to succumb to all five before they allow her time to reign and surrender to her rhythm. I first took care of all five with a breakfast out, chores, a delicious roast dinner, car trips, lots of chatting and a sad goodbye which sagged my shoulders. Then I could turn on my screen. Then I searched for my muse, my inspiration. Now where was she just when I gave her me? I found she was actually “nine” in Greek mythology. Nine goddesses of the inspiration of literature, science, and the arts. They were considered the source of the knowledge and were later adopted by the Romans as a part of their pantheon.

The Nine Goddess Muses of Greek mythology – Clio, Thalia, Erato, Euterpe, Polyhymnia, Calliope, Terpsichore, Urania, and Melpomene — on a Roman sarcophagus (2nd century AD, from the Louvre).


I delved for a clearer view. I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic where she insists we are all creative beings because we’re human. So whether you’re an artist, an entrepreneur, an athlete or a person with a hobby, creativity will lead you to a more satisfying life. It requires “living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than fear”. It is mystical and divine, says not only Gilbert but also Stephen Pressfield, author of The War of Art. 

It seems the muse can show up anytime, so be ready, be open. “When the muse finds you, let her find you working,” said Picasso. Gilbert says: I do my work like a mule, like a farmer, and oftentimes I’ll be rewarded, but it doesn’t happen unless my butt’s on the seat already, and probably has been for months.”

Pressfield talks about risking “the unlived life” by yielding to the many manifestations of resistance which prevents communion with the muse. “Resistance will bury you…Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work.” He states we have two lives. The life we live and the unlived life within us, and that between the two stands resistance. “Are you a writer who doesn’t write, a painter who doesn’t paint, an entrepreneur who never starts a venture? Then you know what resistance is.” Resistance kicks in any time we try to move ourselves from a lower plane to a higher. In other words, when we try to align with the better parts of our nature. “This move can be creative (art) or physical (athletics) or it can be ethical, moral or spiritual.”


If you’re a mother, allowing your creativity to take residence can be extra tenuous. All of us know the sacred contract with motherhood and the difficulty we have in giving ourselves permission to be something other than a mother. Therein lies the most extreme form of resistance for many of us. Rachel Powers writes about it in The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood. “That is what I have come to understand about the nature of motherhood. It is irresolvable and confounding in its contradictions. And perhaps without it, I would have remained hidden to myself always — pristine and uncarved.”




Me? I’ve read and pondered enough to know we must release the guilt, live curiously and give ourselves permission to be creators. We must show our children the big magical hope that lies ahead. They will love us for it.