On the Outer in Nhulunbuy

I got invited to a birthday party in Yirrkala, an Indigenous community on the Gove Peninsula. I arrived with some friends and settled in. I’d cooked some Yemigsta, a Greek dish and one of my favourites. I was relaxing out on the deck, talking with whoever sat nearby, when a guy I’d never seen before joined me.

We got chatting about kirtan, bhajans, and various spiritual topics. He seemed chill enough at first. But, as I’ve experienced many times before, it turned out he was just a pretender, probably talking about spiritual experiences he hadn’t really had. No real insight. No depth. I’ve met that kind of person before, and I’ll probably meet them again.

Still, I spoke from the heart, honestly and openly about whatever came up. But it came back to bite me. Over the next few weeks and months, people I’d considered friendly began to act distant. Cold, even. Like I’d done something wrong. It wasn’t subtle, I could feel it clearly.

I’m intuitive, and this was more than just a passing mood. It was a shift.

I spoke to my mate back in Melbourne, a powerful clairvoyant and psychic. I explained what had happened.

“You’ve been targeted,” he said. “People have been talking. You revealed too much about yourself.”

“I know,” I said, “but I was just being honest.”

He told me to be careful who I speak to about this kind of thing. I understood his point. But the truth is, I hadn’t spoken harshly about anyone. I hadn’t said anything cruel or inappropriate. I’d just shared from the heart.

If people wanted to take that and twist it, to turn me into some kind of outcast so be it.

I’d done nothing wrong.

The last 12 weeks or so in town were awkward. But I got through it. And I don’t regret speaking from the heart, I never have, and I never will.

I don’t care what people think about me.

And if you’ve ever been in the same position, I hear you.

I feel your pain.

Just know this: that pain is also your cure.

Use it.

Let it set you free.