A Spiritual Awakening via a Tantrum of the Sniffles.

The Beginnings of a Spiritual Awakening via a Tantrum of the Sniffles. 

- by Deirdre Hughes

The image you see here is a photo of yours truly at 6 months held in the loving arms of my aunty. Taken in 1971. I love this photo. Not just because of the fabulous matching yellow sweaters, but because it showcases the cheery baby version of myself oozing with joy and potential. When I see her I'm reminded that joy and potential sits deep within us, always. They're our birthright. Sure. They can get bruised and shoved around a bit. Or a lot. But I reckon they never go anywhere. They're safe and sound. Just waiting to be rediscovered.     

I'd say I’ve been a “personal growth” junky since my late 30’s. But the nitty grittiness of my self exploration truly began the day Dr Wayne Dyer passed away. For those of you not familiar with Dr Dyer, he was an American author/speaker, affectionately known as the Father of Motivation. He had an enchanting ability for spreading joy, with humour and insights through his delivery of spiritual teachings. He captivated the hearts of so many. He had a way of making you feel sane and safe. I was 44 when he passed away on 29th August 2015. Prior to that day I'd never heard of the guy! Apparently he had been on tour, and in Brisbane (where I live), less than 2 weeks prior to his death. Damn! 

The day Dr Dyer passed away I was in bed recovering from an impressive flu. Already bed ridden for 2 weeks, I felt emotionally defeated. So defeated I’d become a self-pitying wallower. Whilst my immune system was working overtime it seems it took all my resilience and maturity with it. All I wanted was for my mum to make me a hot cup of milo, pat me on the head and assure me everything’s hunky-dory. Did I mention I was 44 at the time? 

I was working as a receptionist at a local radio station and had been in the role for almost 2 and a half years. It was a fun and happy environment. However shortly before I became sick the station had recently undergone a merger and massive changes had ensued. The rose coloured glasses I once thought to be firmly fixed, were ripped away as I had to witness a large number of beautiful people ‘walk the plank’ of redundancy. Such was the inevitable. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the industry was notoriously known for its somewhat ruthless nature in retrenching staff. It’s not an overstatement to say I found the process surprisingly traumatic. In my naivety, I was heartbroken. I felt robbed of my lovely, fun little job. It certainly opened my eyes to the fact that nothing is certain in life. The experience left me very unsettled. However, much to my astonishment, I was kept on. Reinstated as a sort of a ‘Jack of all trades” admin recruit for a further 4 years. Whilst it was still a lovely place to work, with the remaining wonderful colleagues, the Magic was gone. It was palpably felt by everyone left behind. Half the building, once a hub of joyous activity, became a shell housing empty rooms, studios and hallways. The only thing missing was the tumbleweed.

As I was coming to the end of the second week of that outrageous flu, the continuous aches and pains and coughing seemed never ending. When was this bullshit going to ease up?! In the midst of my overindulged misery, I sensed a rumbling in my chest. It travelled up to my throat. Precipitated by uncontrollable sobbing, I began to scream. And how. It was a bit of an out of body experience as I clearly remember observing my behaviour but couldn't stop. It seemed I’d finally succumbed to my inner trantrumy 2 year old self. I was screaming the house down. Thankfully no one else was home. All I could utter was “Enough of this shit! Enough! Enough! Enough! What the fuck am I doing here. Enough already!". Over and over and over. I look back now and have to giggle at my Oscar winning theatrics (and the award for Best Porkchop goes to...). But at the time, I felt like I was losing my marbles! The sobbing eventually subsided as I slid down further under the covers to fall back into a crappy sleep. Looking back, I feel pretty sure I'd just experienced my first real conversation with God. Or rather. Rant. 

Later in the day, I felt a slight improvement. The monster was starting to loosen its grip. I sat up and grabbed my tablet to browse Facebook. It was then I'd learned some guy named Wayne Dyer had died, the news of which had taken up all of my news feed. “Who is this guy?” The next few days of recovery were spent devouring as much of Dr Dyer’s teachings as I could handle. As cathartic as it was, my hissy fit made me realise I needed something more in life. More purpose. More prosperity. More being of service. More fun. More creativity. But, it had to be on my terms. This revelation has been tugging away at me ever since.

Stumbling upon Dr Dyer the way I did was no accident. It was the universe’s answer to my tantrum. “Enough already earth child! Here. Check out this guy, Wayne - he'll help you get started on your path”. Six years later other leaders of this genre have been incrementally sent my way. Such as Abraham-Hicks, Eckhart Tolle, Pete Evans, Dr Joe Dispenza, Michael O'Neill, Dolores Cannon, Elizabeth Gilbert, Marie Forleo, Jake Ducey. The latest chap being Glaswegian author, Gary John Bishop. Each having delivered in their own unique way the ever reliable "divine slap of the big fish” ie profound moments of clarity. (You can read about big slappy fish in my previous blog). It seems the universe always knows when its time to bring forth these teachers. Much like the way I was introduced to Wayne Dyer at the appropriate time (minus the Greek tragedy styled performance).

I guess what I'm trying to articulate here is that the universe has your back. It will always deliver a new piece of the puzzle. It amazes me when all I need to do is ask. And if you don't ask that's okay too. It'll know when you’re ready to handle another truth bomb about "being" human in this big old 3D theme park of life! Each time I think I have my shit sorted, another loving whack will be swiftly delivered. The journey never ends. And I find this oddly comforting. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I'd love to know when you realised you felt you got whacked by the universe's loving 2x4? 

Please feel free to leave a comment below. x0x Dee.