Chapter 25
Spiritual Signposts
The next morning, two thoughts were sitting on the edge of my mind begging to be written in my journal, which these days, was never out of reach. Before even getting out of bed I grabbed it from my nightstand and opened it. “I want to live a simpler and quieter life,” I wrote, “and I want to understand all animals on a deeper level.” While I’d contemplated these thoughts before it was now obvious how much these things mattered to me. By capturing them on paper, I saw them repeating and they were becoming like affirmations.
After getting those pressing thoughts down on paper, I got out of bed and opened the blinds on the French patio doors. Five sparrows were flitting about the birdbath perched on the top of the deck railing near my writing cottage. They drew me in as I sat on the edge of my bed. I felt called to just be in this space with them.
Two of the sparrows jumped into the water and began splashing about while two others leaned over the edge to carefully take a sip of water. The fifth bird acted like what appeared to be the lookout captain, making sure the other birds were safe.
Two other species of birds that I wasn’t familiar with swooped in toward the birdbath and then back out to a nearby tree several times – they didn’t seem to have much patience in waiting for their turn.
I smiled at all the bird traffic that always seemed heavier in the fall months. It was almost as if I was in a trance watching the birds go about their morning. It felt good to be in this quiet space and how often I didn’t take time to just be in this sacred space with nature. How easy it is to look past this form of life as if it isn’t important, I thought. But what I do believe is that our connection with nature and the animals is vital to our evolution.
The birds weren’t worrying about where they had to be next or wondering what their purpose was. I found comfort in that. How could I learn to be like bird or any other animal, for that matter? I wondered. Is it really that easy to just be? It would be something I’d continue to ponder.
As I continued to immerse myself in savoring the moments and being with the birds I heard an inner voice say, Be free. Be open. Have fun. Listen. Splash. Hop. Sing. Were the birds sending me a message or reflecting my inner awareness? I wondered.
The leaves on the birch trees in the neighbor’s trees were softly blowing in the wind and their wind chimes ringing in the distance. I was in a state of meditation, getting lost in nature unfolding in the way it always has – and always will be – not forced or rushed. I wanted more than anything to stay in this tranquil place as more words floated through my mind—calm, quiet, serene, breathe.
As I allowed myself to follow this inner sacred sanctuary, Joie’s sweet face popped into my consciousness. I could feel the energy of her very strongly. It was if she was right here beside me. Was she agreeing with the birds and their message to me? Was this a lesson in taking in more of what is right in front of me and to understand that I too can be like nature and allow my life to unfold in an organic way?
Yes, Joie, I said silently, I want to know more.
I don’t know how long I actually sat there lost deep within myself as my feathered sparrow friends and Joie’s spirit guided me through this divine meditation. But at some point, I was ready to move on with my day. Having just taken in the healing medicine of nature had my soul feeling abundantly full.
To complete the circle of what seemed an elegantly orchestrated time, I grabbed my deck of Grace cards. I was eager to see what message showed up today.
Direction- look for clues. Grace will lead us to the exact events and experiences we need at precisely the right time.
As usual, I had to read the card several more times because I continued to be amazed at how the synchronicity of my thoughts always seemed to match the message from the cards.
I’d come to realize that more often than not the clues in our lives will not be some huge, flashing neon signs declaring what it is we need to hear at any given point. We can spend much time wishing for the answers to come more easily, but then we risk losing out on the message that is vital – the message that taking time to go within is the only way in which to really hear what it is our soul is trying to convey to us.
Clues come like whispers, and we often don’t listen for them until something tragic causes us to stop dead in our tracks. It is then that we are often called to try and figure out what it is that matters most to us. Then we tend to question everything. We wonder what it was that we could have done differently. We promise to pay closer attention. At least this has certainly been my experience.
And while I knew I wanted to live in deeper awareness, I also knew I needed to be gentle and forgiving of myself when I didn’t do so.
Continuing my quest of rumination and quietude, I was finally feeling better at learning to flow with it. The urge to have to do something was dissipating. In being with my thoughts, seeing them for what they really were, allowing them to be heard, I was able to gently sift through them. I began to see the value in allowing this open space in my life.
The heaviness I had felt, like a ton of bricks on my chest from grief and fear, began to lighten too. This new skin I was growing into was feeling like the right fit.
A shift was occurring also as I found myself wanting to embrace happiness again and let go of sorrow over the loss of Joie and what was once my sense of purpose in my work with Frankie. I wanted to move on and begin anew.
In many ways, I understood this as my purpose for this particular time in my life right now. This was essential as a way in which I needed to learn to be okay in this place of the unknown. This, in essence, was the work I was meant to be doing for now.
The Grace card I chose at random that day added to the wisdom that was now part of the foundation guiding me toward deeper meaning and understanding of my sense of self.
Support- expect help. A divine power more magnificent than anything else that exists on the planet is ready to support your every move.
As I read this, it triggered a memory of a conversation I’d had with Dawn. I remembered her mentioning that I should accept help from others—that I had given so much of myself the past few years with Frankie, Joie and Nikki. I recalled how kind and gentle her voice was. She encouraged me that perhaps now was the time for me to accept whatever help that may come my way during this time of self-reflection.
This memory, and Dawn’s wise words of wisdom, brought a lump to my throat and hot tears to my eyes. It was hard for me to accept help. But I also recalled during my coaching time with Diane how she told with me that asking for help is actually a sign of strength, not weakness. I’d never looked at it in that way, but now I was beginning to see the truth in her words.
Thinking about all I’d learned and how much I’d grown during those two and half months of coaching with Diane, I was even more excited to share with her some ideas I had been exploring.
After once again capturing this new insight in my journal, I set my pen aside and went for a walk. When I returned home something happened that had me in complete awe.
I was trying to print a receipt from an online purchase I had made. When I clicked the icon on my monitor to print, my printer acted up and wouldn’t print. I unplugged it from the wall and plugged it back in. It sputtered for a moment and then the light was back on indicating systems were all set to go. I expected the copy of the receipt to come out. But instead, this is what it printed:
Grief is a doorway to your deepest self.
My heart began thumping hard in my chest. Staring at what came off my printer I was stunned, looking at disbelief at the words printed on the page. Where in the world did that come from?
I thought perhaps it could have come from something I’d put in the scanner of my printer so I opened the top of it. Inside I found a card from a deck of cards by Cheryl Richardson called Self Care and the quote about grief and on the other side it said, release.
The odd thing was that I didn’t recall when I would have put that card in there to scan it. I had no recollection whatsoever. Chills ran down my spine. I smiled and took this as a sign from the universe. It was exactly what I needed to hear in that moment.
It resonated because I had realized a new space had opened within me the past few days. I was seeing more clearly that my grief for Joie was leading me to a new place within myself. While I didn’t always realize I was thinking of her, I believed that my subconscious was putting the broken pieces of my heart back together again.
Instead of continuing to feel sad over her loss, I was now more in awe over how I was growing and evolving just for having had her in my life. And I wanted more than anything to honor her life and understand the lessons she brought to me while physically with me. Plus, the teachings she was now conveying to me in spiritual form.
I was fascinated at how the mind works if we can learn to observe it from a nonjudgmental place. I circled back to my earlier thoughts examining asking for help, recalling a woman I’d met the year at The Artist’s Way workshop. I wasn’t quite sure why, but I felt called to reach out to her.
Also quite interesting was that this was the same woman who I’d been curious about for many years. I’d often seen her about in our small village – at the post office, the local café or the library – and found her somehow mysterious. It was something in the way in which she carried herself and how she dressed that I would call eccentric and artistic. Her hair of salt and pepper, cut into a bob, was oftentimes pulled back in a comb to one side.
At the workshop, I learned that her name was Marie. For some reason, I was drawn to her, and my curiosity only grew as the twelve weeks of The Artist’s Way progressed.
Spirit put her name in my head for a reason. It was my job to follow through, even though I wasn’t quite sure why. I had her email address so I sent her a note asking if she would agree to meet me for coffee. I shared with her that I wanted to talk to her about some ideas I had that I was researching.
She graciously accepted my invitation and two mornings later we met at a local coffee shop.
Sitting in a booth across from Marie, I told her that I was on sabbatical because I needed to try and figure out what I wanted for my future. She listened patiently as I listed a dizzying amount of ideas that to one degree or another I was thinking of pursuing.
“I’m scared that I won’t ever find that one thing again that will light up my soul the way my work with Frankie did,” I admitted.
Marie nodded in agreement every now and then as I continued talking. When I finally stopped, she paused, took a sip of her coffee, and then ever so gently she said, “Just trust the process. Be grateful for this time you have to think things through. Try and listen with your heart and just be open to exploring without any attachments.”
At first, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Everything inside of me tensed up. I took a deep breath and decided best to keep my mouth shut and keep listening. After all, I reminded myself, I did seek out Marie for advice.
“Not everything needs to be figured out right away. Let things evolve organically,” she added.
There was that word again—organically. Dawn had said this very same thing when I adopted Joie and was struggling with wanting her to follow in Frankie’s paw prints. I was also struggling with wanting to honor the need to slow down. Marie’s words brought Dawn’s advice back to the forefront.
As I listened to her, I was suddenly mad at myself. Why did I always think I had to have everything figured out right away? How often did I need to hear something before it actually sank in and grew roots to stabilize me? I was often frustrated with myself for what seemed to be a lack of patience.
It was as if Marie was reading my mind as all these thoughts swirled like a tornado. “We can’t possibly figure everything out all the time. We aren’t supposed to. That is how life works.”
She was absolutely right. I knew this, but I also wanted to control the outcome. I was doing everything in my silly human power to figure out an answer now. All because (and when I was truthful with myself) was so that I didn’t have to feel uncomfortable with facing the unknown.
Marie said, “It could be years that you feel in this in-between place before you figure out what is next. I’ve been in the very same place myself many times, but you have to trust that it is okay.”
While it wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, it was a relief to hear this advice. I sincerely appreciated her honesty. Having had so many of these feelings for the past few months, and really since retiring Frankie in 2012, having this safe outlet to express myself with Marie helped me to sift through them and see them for what they were. And more importantly, that what I was going through was quite normal.
What a gift it was to have talked with someone wiser and older than me. We agreed to meet again in a few months. And little did I know at the time, but our friendship would continue to blossom into one of my greatest treasures.
Driving home later that morning, I was in a very peaceful state of mind. It was a good place to be. I had reached out for help and I was supported. When I got to the house, I continued to let Spirit carry me by following the impulse to take Kylie for a walk.
We headed for a small wooded area near home, where we had been walking quite frequently lately. The quiet and stillness of the woods were grounding for me. I was also feeling a deeper connection with Kylie since Joie had passed. I sensed that she was enjoying the one-on-one time with me, too.
The sun was warm on my face and the slight wind blowing through my hair felt good, too. I felt light and free, as if I was floating on a cloud in the vast blue sky. Soft music played in my ears through my earbuds connected to my iPod as Kylie and I took our time shuffling along a gravel path. We eventually came to a set of wooden stairs at the beginning of the woods. There are different areas as you walk along the trail that you come upon these wooden steps, built by local boy scouts years before to help make the trek easier to navigate.
Looking up and around, I noticed that the trees were beginning to show more of the vibrant colors of fall. The sky was different shades of blue as if someone had stroked it with a brush of watercolor. I was feeling in a place of deep gratefulness for my life and my sabbatical.
I had no place I needed to be. The only place I really needed to be was with my soul. The unknown was beginning to be something I could rest in without too much fear. I didn’t feel as afraid anymore and was opening more to just paying attention without expectations.
There were some leaves that had already fallen to the ground as I took delight in hearing the crunch under my shoes and Kylie’s paws. Without really a conscious thought, all of a sudden I heard myself say out loud, “Hello Soul! How are you?”
I was a bit startled that this came out of my mouth! But when I paid attention to my thoughts in a nonjudgmental way I realized I was accepting that one chapter in my life was now closed, and that was okay. Another chapter would begin when the time was right. For now, it was my work to continue to check in with my soul and learn to just live fully into the moment right at hand.
As I continued my meditative walk, Kylie sniffing just a few feet ahead of me, I recalled Nikki recently telling me that my sabbatical looked good on me.
If we can just stay out of our own way, our inner light will find its way back to us. It’s our job to acknowledge this and allow the space for a new unfolding to take place. While I understood we can’t always be in this inner place of peace, I hoped that my new awareness of holding space for myself when I needed it, would have me visiting this inward place of healing more often.
As I got lost in more of my thoughts, some words danced across my mind like a young ballerina swirling across the floor. Stay awake. Pay attention. Look. See. Love. Reflect. Contemplate. They twirled around me as if each word was tied to a ribbon with a tiny bird carrying each one in its beak. They were reminders of the work I needed to do no matter what stage of life I am in. This is part of why we are here— to be observers of this thing called life.
Taking in a deep breath, I inhaled the fresh, crisp, air around me. I soaked in this delicious feeling that was enveloping my soul and sinking deep into my being.
A song by Nora Jones was playing in my ears and the words, “You humble me, Lord,” and “feels like home” vibrated throughout my body in resonance of exactly how I was feeling.
Oh, how we come to many crossroads in our lives! And if we are humble enough, we can see clearly that we are never truly in control or alone. Surrendering to this can help set us free.
While our free will gives us choices, we can veer off the path at times with our life feeling not like our own. But when we lose our way, we can come back to the center of who we truly are just by really seeing the beauty all around us. Resting within that space so vital to what it takes to fill us up once again so that our inner light can come shining through again.
Deeper and deeper I let myself sink into these thoughts that if I was going to live in a more peaceful state of mind I had to acknowledge that the controlling part of me would undoubtedly show up now and then again. But I had to befriend and honor it, and then let it sail on by.
The next morning, I sat on the sofa with a cup of orange blossom tea and my journal resting in my lap. I closed my eyes and within moments I observed a soft, pastel pink light in my mind. I watched with curiosity as it slowly descended down my entire body and then finally reaching my toes.
Opening my eyes, I noticed sunbeams were dancing on the living room wall in front of me. I was feeling deeply content. Acknowledging the comfort I was receiving I said out loud, “Oh, how I love my home. Thank you.”
Picking up my pen and opening the cover of my journal, I revisited the time I’d spent with Diane, pondering the many ideas and thoughts from my recent visit with her.
One piece of wisdom she offered that day really sank in. She encouraged me to not put a timeframe on anything. But rather allow whatever was to find me to do so in a natural way. To let it flow and follow what feels right.
It reminded me of my conversation with Marie. Yet again, Spirit was supporting me with all the right messages from my earth angels. All I needed to do was heed their insightful wisdom.
Diane, Dawn, and Marie were all right! I had been trying to put a timeframe on everything. It really was yet another reminder of how often one can jump into something else just for the sake of doing so. How we tend to do this out of fear we won’t be taken care of. How we try desperately to fill the empty space because it feels uncomfortable, instead of allowing ourselves to feel our way through.
Glancing at my teacup, I’d realized I hadn’t taken a moment to read the quote dangling from the end of the Yogi tea bag. I always looked at these quotes as messengers from the Universe also so it didn’t surprise me that I read, “Trust creates space.”
I took a deep breath and let the words fill me with hope that this time of open space was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Many thoughts crossed my mind this morning. One of which, oddly enough, was thinking about housewives of the 50s and 60s. A part of me feeling like I wouldn’t have minded being a stay at home gal. I’ve always loved my home, oftentimes telling others that I tend to be a homebody.
But I also knew how important it is for me to find something that fulfills my soul—something just for me. And this brought me back to the issue that I think has been an on and off struggle for women for many years and how to balance it all.
While I knew I’d eventually want to leave this concentrated space of quiet and solitude, I was concerned about how I would balance it all again when I put myself back out into the world.
I didn’t want to find myself in a place again where I felt off-kilter like I did after Frankie and Joie passed away.
Then I reminded myself that perhaps there is no such thing as balance. We seem to put all this pressure on ourselves to achieve something that we have been conditioned to think we should have. And perhaps, just maybe, we can have it all, but just at different times of our lives and not all at once.
One thing I knew without a doubt is that I wanted the simple and meaningful life I’d worked hard to build, even though I was questioning how it would look going forward. But this new place of being felt rather like an adventure in itself, learning to trust the process and seeing where it would take me.
Before closing my journal for the day I recalled another suggestion from Diane. She recommended gathering articles, poems, photos, and quotes that spoke to me. She encouraged me to pay attention to what they could potentially mean for a new direction. “Perhaps they could be clues,” she said.
Excited about the idea, I set my journal aside and dug through the wicker chest in my writing cottage to see if I had a binder where I could gather everything. The idea really resonated. I thought of it as putting together a personal map of myself and what mattered most to me.
Thinking about this map, it triggered another thought I’d had—something I’d wanted to investigate but kept putting off. Lately, I’d been experiencing some breast pain, though I did feel it was perhaps due to being peri-menopausal. But over the years I’d also come to believe that our emotions can play a big part in symptoms that manifest in our body. And this especially seemed to be true when we are in the midst of a challenge.
I went to my bookshelf and pulled down a book by Louise Hay titled, Heal Your Body. It’s a list from A through Z of common symptoms and diseases that can be tied to our emotional state.
Turning to the page on breast pain it read, “A refusal to nourish the self. Putting everyone else first. Overmothering. Overprotecting, overbearing attitudes.”
In one sense this was hard to read as I couldn’t quite see myself in this statement. But when I looked at it objectively while being gentle with myself, it did make some sense. As I thought more about how it applied to me my mind flashed back to the year 2004 when my chocolate Lab, Cassie Jo was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
I then thought about how nine months later after Cassie Jo passed away when Frankie became paralyzed. It was an intense and trying time learning to adapt to life with a dog who couldn’t walk. But as I learned to navigate in a new way with Frankie, my life revealed a purpose for me that I found to be quite joyful and my mission began to help bring positive awareness to disabled dogs like Frankie and dogs in wheelchairs. While it had many learning curves from writing, to publishing five books, and speaking in public, it was a time I experienced much fulfillment.
After Frankie passed and Joie came into my life, it was another intense year of mentoring Nikki as she contemplated a split from her husband and eventually moved in with John and me. We guided her through her divorce and provided a place of comfort as she worked on getting back on her feet again. Three months later Joie died and Nikki moved out two weeks later.
All of these pivotal moments flashed through my mind rapidly. For a moment it felt intensely heavy—as if bricks were bearing down on my chest. I saw for the first time with clarity how I had been going, going, going, and giving, giving, giving. I had never really slowed down to take time just for me. I never allowed myself room to catch my breath. Hot tears of recognition of everything I’d been feeling filled my eyes while at the same time they washed away all the heaviness I’d been dealing with.
I grabbed a tissue and wiped my eyes so I could read Louise Hay’s suggestion for coping with breast pain. It said, “I am important. I count. I now care for and nourish myself with love and with joy. I allow others the freedom to be who they are. We are all safe and free.”
There was no doubt in my mind I’d just been guided from Spirit and this was another step in a renewal of my sense of self.