I got a guru for Christmas. She cost my husband £3,000 and I am going to be working with her for a whole year. She is going to teach me how to lead a more spiritual life…I hope.
Had you told me a couple of years back that I would forgo the usual festive gifts of spa breaks, cashmere scarves and sheepskin slippers for a woman who believes that we choose our parents, live many lifetimes and are looked after and loved by a higher presence, I’d have thought it insane, yet here I am.
How did it happen?
This time last year, my New Year’s Resolution was to earn more money, LOTS more money. I networked my sorry arse off, hired a business coach and worked really, really hard, but the more I grafted, the poorer I became.
I knew I had a dysfunctional relationship with money and felt that some sort of emotional baggage was holding me back. My sister suggested a book called The Journey by an American woman called Brandon Bays who had rid herself of a life-threatening tumour with the power of her mind.
To be honest, it was a bit out there, but I was so sick of holding myself back, I was prepared to try anything. Then, whilst Googling cancer after we’d found that my father had a tumour in his bladder, I found a blog post by a woman who had cured her breast cancer thanks to a Journey practitioner who as it happened, was just around the corner from me. I called her.
I was expecting somebody in yoga pants and a rainbow jumper, giving off a faint whiff of pachouli, but what I found was a middle-aged woman who looked as if she might work in a bank or building society. You see, New Age isn’t so new these days. Everyone is doing it. Politicians, bankers, corporate types – they’re all bashing gongs, meditating and Feng shui’ing their offices. What’s more, the practitioners by and large, are ordinary people too.
It was like that film When Harry, Met Sally. As soon as I met this woman (who incidentally, will HATE being called a guru, so I’ll only do it just the once), I thought ‘I want what she’s got!’
Here was someone at peace. She exuded calm. She was practical, insightful and kind. Here was a person who had her shit together and at the age of 53, that is exactly how I want to be. The catch is, you kind of have to believe in the presence of a higher power to do that.
I’m somewhere in the middle with this. I’m a former tabloid reporter. I don’t take any nonsense, but ever since I knew without any shadow of doubt, which horse was about to win the 1988 Grand National, I’ve suspected that there is more to the power of my own mind than I think. On the other hand, when I am told to place all my trust in this higher presence/God/spirit/consciousness or whatever you want to call it, I struggle. I was taught to work hard. Surely you don’t get rich by wishing on a piece of rose quartz and cozying up to the universe?
But here was this woman who admitted that her life was once as tangled and messy as mine, more so even, and she’d turned it around with the help of Grace. That is not an actual person, it is her word for that indefinable infinite thing some call God.
I have much to be grateful for. A great husband, three healthy kids, a lovely home in leafy Surrey, good friends, a healthy body and all my own teeth. And yet…I feel that something is missing. Could it be Grace? I wonder.
It has certainly worked for Russell Brand who charts his battle with addiction in the book Recovery (read it, it’s brilliant!) and wholeheartedly believes that he is guided by a greater force.
What have I got to lose (apart from £3K)? I have a strong feeling that the spiritual path is one I must take and I’ve found a mentor that I trust and am inspired by. We have our first phone call on Wednesday when I’ll ask her if she minds being named in this blog.
The Journey process by the way, was intense and life-changing, but I’ll tell you more about that in another post. So there you have it. I am committed to this spiritual year now, so please join me for the ride. It will be bumpy in parts, but I intend to have a lot of fun along the way and well, if anything here ever helps, inspires or amuses you, then it will all have been worth it.
And we’re off…