What Love Told Me book



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The Emperor’s New Clothes

I’ve written a little book of some poem-things or wordings if you like, which I am self-publishing just because I’ve always wanted to write a book and because after ‘Run Marathon’ it was number two on my Bucket List

The weird thing is now it is finished and due to become live on Amazon in just over a month, I can’t actually bring myself to say the words ‘I’ve written a book’ - not that I’ve even told many people, but when I DO mention it I hear me using the word ‘thing’afterwards, as in; ‘I’ve written this little Book thing. With Poem-things. Or more like Wordy-things really’.  Why the hell am I putting the word THING on the end of my sentences to dismiss it and put down what it actually is. A Book.

And as if that isn’t weird enough - because I asked for guidance from God (or ‘Love’ as I prefer to say in case you lot think I’m a religious nut) to write it - I am not even taking credit for the fact that they are partly my words! Oh yes - I think that I am only a minor contributor and ‘Love’ did all the hard work by telling me what to write!! Which is hilarious because it would be MUCH better and definitely wouldn’t have Ego-stylee subjects in there and a Kate-Roberts tone to the words.  And anyway, I’m sure God/Love/The Divine would use much bigger words if It was doing direct channelling through little me !!

Classic predictable vulnerability in action.  Now I have finished the thing and am about to share it with the world...ok well some of my mates and my parents who might buy a copy... I am absolutely BRICKING IT !!  All this self doubt rocking up in full force. 

Rewind to last November - whilst on a Course in Miracles retreat with Hollie and Robert Holden in Findhorn, we took part in a writing meditation where we asked Love to guide our words and this 'poem-thing' (eye roll) kind of FELL out of me called ‘The Holy Relationship’ about ‘God’ being invited into all of our relationships. So a few people shared what they had written and when they asked for one more, my fella sat next to me, kind of nudged me and I found myself walking to the front ready to share.  Bear in mind at this point I have only ever shared a few ‘blog-things’ (yawn..) on Faceless Facebook before, rather than to actual human beings, of which there were 50 in that room.  I sat down next to Hollie on the floor, shaking and started to read my words into the microphone (as if it wasn’t terrifying enough).  My ‘word-thing’ was quite long. 3 pages in my journal. As I turned the page I looked up at Hollie and rather apologetically said ‘Don’t worry I’ve nearly finished’ worried that I was hogging the limelight.  But as I looked at her she had tears in her eyes and was visibly moved.  I remember thinking ‘that’s weird’ but carried on and when I finished I looked up and other people in the audience were also crying. Then Robert said some stuff I don’t remember but definitely something about having read many of the Sufi poets and that mine was ‘just as beautiful’.

As I returned to my seat my MCV (Mean Chatty Voice) said bitchily ‘He’s definitely lying’ but during the break more people came over to thank me for sharing the words and told me how much my poem had touched them in some way.  I just keep thinking it was SO WEIRD.  And it continued at lunch. People talking about me and my poem at the lunch table and complimenting me and saying lovely things about how they felt when I had shared.  WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?

I was pretty quiet during lunch until one more person had come over to me it finally dawned on me that NOT THAT MANY PEOPLE WOULD LIE! Like my little mean voice had been so convincing when it was a couple of people (plus Robert and Holllie) but when it got to about 20 people (not an exaggeration) there was no way I could continue to believe him saying ‘They all think your writing is shit and theyre all just being nice to your face. She’s lying too. Theyre ALL in it together’ and I finally got that, sure there was probably a few people that didn’t find it that good but the majority of people did and wanted to tell me. People were telling the truth.

I think that this extreme kind of ‘group reassurance’ sparked me into action, because back home , the following week I wrote (well, LOVE wrote, remember!!) over 40 poems in the middle of the night every day for a week. I had my book. I contacted Michelle(Catanach - check her on FB if you also want to write a book) and things started moving and I decided a launch date near my birthday in April.

I was going to publish my book-thing.

In the meantime, I sent the rough version to Robert and Hollie and rather cheekily (whilst totally shitting it as they are two huge Mentors for me) asked if they would have a look at it and maybe even contribute to a Foreword or give me a quote from The Course that I could include. About two weeks later I heard back from Robert telling me that he was, I quote; ‘Loving my poetry’ and that it was ‘very inspiring’ - which translated in Katey-Roberts-land as..... the COMPLETE OPPOSITE !!!!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ?  Yet again The Voice telling me this time ‘Well, he might have liked the first one you did but he HATES the rest of them and definitely doesn’t think that theyre good enough to go into a book or else he would have written a few words for the Foreword.’ cue HUGE MELTDOWN from me.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I felt mortified, embarrassed, ashamed. ‘Why the hell am I doing this. My book-thing is obviously shit. I can’t believe I think that anyone would want to read it’. And despite any rational person (my publisher and my boyfriend) telling me that Robert had actually said NICE positive things and is a very busy man doing all things Hayhouse or chatting to his mate Oprah and probably simply doesn’t have time; all I wanted to do was pull the plug on the whole thing, because in my head Robert was lying. Again.

But I felt so needy of his validation, his approval, his reassurance and even though he had given it in the email I just was consumed by this self doubt. My book-thing is SHIT.

So I had a little shame-fear-cry and just sat on the floor with my tears, also feeling surprise at the force of my feeling. And when I stopped, turned my computer on to write this - actively leaning into all the uncomfortableness?...uncomfortability?  (definitely can’t get the ‘word-thing’ here!) to try and work out what was going on.

And I thought about the Emperors New Clothes.  Cos that’s how I feel bringing this book into the world; prancing about the streets with it, completely bollock naked with everyone telling me how good it is, but secretly laughing behind my back saying ‘who does she think she is? This is SHIT’

I’d been expecting the Vulnerability Hangover, but this was happening BEFORE I’ve even published the bloomin book-thing ! That’s ridiculous!

So as I write this I remember who I am writing the book for. Me and no one else. Not my fella. Not my mates. Not my parents. Not you lot. Not Robert and Hollie. Just me.

Just because I have always wanted to.

Just because it is a dream of mine.

Just because I wanted to birth some creation into the world with my name on it.

But mainly because I’ve always wanted to write a book. Not a book-thing. An actual book.

And MY book is called ‘What Love Told Me’

Because Love DID tell me.

And that is enough for me.



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