Let me tell you a story…
There once was a middle-aged woman who had been perfectly happy with her life — until she woke up one day, and wasn’t. She felt sad for no reason and stopped meeting her days with a joyful smile more often than not. Something in her was seriously off-track.
She felt a recurring resistance in many aspects of her life, especially in her work. An entrepreneur, she was secretly worried she would give up on her business, even though it had been successful for more than a decade. Cash flow suffered, as her work felt stale and undervalued — and she didn’t do well what she didn’t love doing.
For the past several years she had fervently loved her work, and now it seemed flat and uninspiring. She experienced crushing anxiety, leading to constant worries about her health.
If she didn’t continue with her private practice, what were her options?
Some days she felt as if she were wearing jeans that were two sizes too small, metaphorically (and ironically literally as well). The discord ran in rivers, tangled inside her in unknown and uncharted geography. It was as if she was moving out of the tight structure of her existence into something new and daunting that hadn’t yet arrived — and she couldn’t stop it from coming.
While she carved away all but the essential, she kept questioning. Do I love this? If not, it was out. Heaps of clothing and household items were regularly donated. She was grossed out by having so much STUFF.
She knew only what to take away and nothing of what to add.
There was a tiny voice that kept calling to her, as if in a cavern with the echo making it impossible to discern. The message persisted, however unintelligible.
She was impatient to see what she couldn’t see because life was getting hard and there were days when she couldn’t face getting out of bed. Everything felt off, and the too-small clothing felt sickeningly stuck to her weary body. When she looked in the mirror, she squinted. Who was this? She didn’t like what she saw.
She thought she was finished with the grueling inner work, having spent thousands of dollars and hours with a suitcase full of coaches, healers, consultants, and therapists. In her mid-fifties, she should be crystal clear about who she was, and yet another crash-and-burn was not an option! After all — she was evolved!
And her jeans kept getting tighter.
Not able to name the condition with precision, she began imagining all the best and worst possibilities, wondering what was coming. Knowing the universe abhors a vacuum, she sought counsel, calling on the unseen because she surely wasn’t getting any answers anywhere else. She prayed. She read. She studied with new teachers.
Spirit entered, whispering more clearly “Wait. Listen. Slow down”.
Slowing down was difficult, as she had made her way in the world driving headlong into whatever had her attention. She had been a doer. A high achiever. Some people saw her as a pretty big deal.
But the woman she had been was dying — a slow, agonizing death, and it was scary as f*^k. She didn’t know who she was without the push; absent the striving toward what looked like a success. She was a get-sh*t-done girl, and there was nothing she couldn’t do; she was the proverbial rock-star quality achiever.
Until her jeans just wouldn’t button.
Spirit knocked again, more urgently. “Patience. Make art. Take a bath”.
WTF? Seriously? That’s IT?
She made art, unleashing a well of latent creativity that persists, still. She took long, hot baths — resisting the urge to hop out and get something done. She practiced being okay without knowing what was next, sometimes more successfully than others.
One day, the time had come for her to gain new insight, which rode in on a white horse named Jennifer — a referral by a former client. Jennifer was a Shaman, and even though she had no real idea what she was getting into, she had a deep knowing it would represent a turning point. She leaped onto Jennifer’s calendar; curious and cavalier.
Have you ever met someone so profoundly gifted that their presence irrevocably changes everything? When you do, it’s magical. Practical too.
It was time the genie got the hell out of the bottle, making her life both complicated and straightforward, simultaneously. She came to know and rely upon her team of helpers and guides on the other side of the veil, and with Jennifer’s guidance, she found herself on the growing edge of her soul’s purpose. Quite the genie.
Now, by this point in my long story, you might have had an inkling that the ‘she’ in this story is ME.
I’m the protagonist in my story.
As the central character, let me tell you it hasn’t been easy. But it’s been worth it, and as the path toward my fullest expression continues to develop, I am more confident about the role I’m playing and my ability to play it. I still feel scared as f*&k, but I’m finding the “I don’t know” space to be the most spiritual and oddly fulfilling of my lifetime.
So you see, there is endless possibility to be revealed when you sit with the questions, coming to the conversation with an open heart and mind. I know how much courage it takes, as I’m still walking one step at a time down that same rocky road.
I want you to know that while sometimes it helps to listen to what your own voice tells you, you don’t have to do this alone. Come, sit with me. Tell me your miraculous story. Let me love you through the hard parts as others have loved me. And together, we will let die what must die and give birth to what must live.