When I moved down here to Boulder, I had two questions: Where would I live, and where would I work? I was willing to do the “wing and a prayer” thing, but I needed to know what to look for when I got here. So one day last spring I did a visioning process, and I can’t quite tell you how it worked, except that I went into the state I go into when I’m working on clients, which is a little like what the Buddhists call the “don’t-know mind.” In that semi-meditative state, I asked to be shown what to look for.
And, incredibly, I was. I received two very clear sets of images: one for home, one for work. It wasn’t like a photograph, just a set of details: I’d live in an older brick house near downtown, with a prominent front window, a broken front sidewalk, and lots of green. It wasn’t until I’d been here a month that I realized every single detail of that vision was present in the house I’m living in — down to the flagstone front walk, which had appeared “broken” in my vision. And, as luck would have it, this home has been an absolutely lovely place to land. A godsend, if you will.
Even so, living here for six months with no real client base, and the work opportunities just not ringing “true” in my gut, has been hard. But every time I would start to worry about whether I’d made a mistake by leaving my family and friends and clients in Montana, I would be forced to reconcile with that vision, and the truth it made real in me. The truth that “Yes, you’re in the right place. Just trust, and follow the path as it shows up.”
Those are things I don’t actually love doing: trusting. following. waiting.
But I’ve committed to this path, and so I’ve been learning to trust in something larger than me. Something I call Divine. Something that knows who I am, down at the bottom of me, and what my soul aches to be doing, and how on earth I’m going to get there. It’s been a process, learning to trust there’s a point to all this, and that a path forward will show up eventually.
So, when I went to Louisville Wellness Center to meet its founder Michelle for our initial interview, and found myself walking up a sidewalk in the center of a bustling downtown, toward a green clapboard house, past a cream-colored, oval, wood, free-standing sign on the front lawn, it was all I could do not to cry. Because I’d finally arrived at the place I’d seen in my vision so many months ago.
I belong here. I came here to be here.
…all of which is to say that I know as well as anyone, it’s not easy to trust. For every certainty I have that I am where I belong, there’s been a lot of work. A lot of changing what I believe about how the world operates (it doesn’t), changing who I thought I was (I’m not), changing what I thought I needed (I didn’t). Healing, at the deepest layers of my identity.
And what I’ve learned is that there’s more. There’s more guidance available to us, more ease. More peace, more contentment, more joy, more life. And there are ways to heal our inability to trust. Cuz let me tell you, you can have visions all damn day long, but if you can’t trust, it’s still a scary freaking world.
My orientation to healing, always, is not to fight my “nature,” or to convince you to fight yours. I’m not here to help you “get over” your pain, or your anger, or your inability to trust, but to help you heal it. To acknowledge and heal that thing underneath the pain, the thing which makes you feel “naturally” fearful, untrusting, angry, what-have-you. So that you don’t have to fight yourself. In my experience of doing this, when we take away the thing causing the hurt, the light which you really are can shine. It’s like parting the clouds.
I can’t wait to help you see all this for yourself.
with love,