Not gonna lie, I have been struggling off and on these past few weeks.
Everything is going right, everything is going beautifully, in fact. I am so excited for my journey. But I suspect that I have been setting aside/putting off a lot of emotions. Well, maybe not “a lot” of emotions - just the two that require the most work: fear and grief.
It’s obvious to me why I was ignoring fear: there was no way I could express it – not even to myself – or else all those ‘sane’ voices from within and without would start snarking about what a crazy idea this is. I didn’t need that. I definitely didn’t want to deal with the grief of leaving.
But now it’s safe. It’s safe for me to feel these feelings, to sit in this darkness when I need to, because nothing is going to stop this next phase of my life. The house is being sold and an offer accepted, inspection and appraisal done. The trailer is almost ready. My Prius is going back to the PNW, so I will be obligated to get a new vehicle. My replacement has been hired at work. This is happening.
I am leaving. I am leaving my trees and my park, my sweet little house, my job that I adore, and the people here that I love. I have to let go, and it’s going to be so painful. All those things are obvious reasons to grieve. I am coming to the end of a brutal 3-year novel that my life has written – and it’s ending on a bit of a cliffhanger. Where will our heroine go? How will she survive? More importantly, how will her cat survive? LOL.
The worst part has been feeling disconnected from spirit. My brain is swirling with to-do lists, ‘what-ifs’, piles of papers and instruction manuals – all this 3D stuff that needs my attention right here, right now. So much of it. It makes it hard to feel that inner calm and peace that comes from knowing this is what I’m being called to do. To remember it’s all going to be okay. Better than okay – amazeballs! But I’ve been losing the signal, and when the voices of my guides get buried under all this stuff, I start to feel at best lonely and at worst, panicked. I don’t like feeling panicked, lonely, and disconnected.
Before I bought the trailer, before the situationship ended, and after I’d had my knee surgery and was back up to my normal activity level, I had started seeing the number 3 everywhere. At first it was kinda cool. I like ‘synchronicities’, I always thought they were interesting and fun. For example, for years in my 30’s my number was 8. Infinity symbol. Seeing it influenced a lot of my decisions. I bought my little Toyota Corolla, Ruby, because her license plate had 8s. I decided to call Randy immediately after getting his number rather than play some sort of waiting game, because his phone number had three 8’s (lol, 3 of them, yes). And when it came time to get my first cell phone, I asked if I could have a number with 8s and got three 8’s in mine.
So that was fun.
But when the 3s started showing up excessively, it started getting a little freaky. Seriously freaky. Every time there was a number, it contained a 3. (Even now as I type this it’s 8:38am, I shit you not. LOL.)
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the number 3, in fact I’ve always loved and appreciated it. It is the universal number. Beginning, middle, end. Small, medium, large. Father, son, holy spirit. Three wise men. Three ghosts. Three witches. Three bears. So many more examples exist. I’ve given birth three times. I came from a family of three children. My house number right now is 833.
(Image of my left hand holding three short sticks, which I used to help me keep track of my laps around the park)
(Image is of an abandoned concrete pour, probably the footing for poles of some kind, that form a number 3)
(Image of my odometer in my Prius which reads 135,939)
I use three sticks that I keep in my pocket to help me keep track of my five laps at the park. I see it in tree roots. I was used to seeing it pretty frequently, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that now it was above and beyond – and I did not know what the universe was trying to tell me. Over and over again, all day, every day. License plates. A patient’s weight. Their temp would be 97.3, 98.3. Their chart number. Their pulse. Their BMI. Every single time I glanced at the clock, a 3. This went on for weeks until I finally begged for a reprieve. “I don’t get it. Please stop. You’re scaring me,” I think were my exact words.
(Image of tree roots that look like 03)
(Image of my right hand holding three large feathers that are dark brown)
(Image is another of roots from the same tree as previous, forming a right-side-up 3 and an upside-down 3 next to it)
It toned down after that, but I did start to think about and look up the meaning of the number 3. Balance, harmony, creativity. All good things. But also – the divinity. Body, mind, and spirit. Was that it? Spirit was telling me that those three elements of myself have come into balance and harmony?
Well, my mind is no longer plagued with doubt and self-recrimination. My inner critic is pretty much silent – I have befriended her, forgiven her, and she knows now that she doesn’t need to be mean. My thoughts are peaceful and kind and loving; if not, it’s easy to get them there.
Spirit? I am more connected to the divine than I have ever been. Even more than I was as a born-again Christian in His Community. The divine is now constant in me – it is the blood in my veins, the air I breathe. It’s in my laughter, my tears, my conversations, my touch. It’s all around and within. So I’m feeling pretty solid with spirit.
Body was sort of the last hurdle, but it’s all good. I’m in the best shape I have been in in my life. My diet is good – I actually crave salads, lol. I stopped smoking cigarettes, I exercise daily, I sleep well. I have energy. I feel great.
So, cool. That’s the 3. The big 3. I’ve arrived. I accept your message, spirit. I’m ready to go. Thanks for the confirmation. Sorry it took me so long to understand. You know, you could have just told me directly, not sure what all the fuss was about. Just say it.
Then The Trouble began. Janice’s Revenge. And my whole body got thrown out of whack. Five different antibiotics over the course of a week wrecked my digestion. Although I have recovered from my adventure with Staph, my knee is now achy most of the time. It also starts to fill with fluid if I leave the compression sleeve off for too long, and it doesn’t seem there’s anything that can be done about it. So that’s been frustrating. Very frustrating. I’m regretting having Janice removed, I am glum about needing to wear a compression sleeve half the time in perpetuity. My left hip, which had finally stopped hurting, is now back to its old pains, since I was unable to stretch it properly for so long. Sigh. I was just to the point where I didn’t have to baby parts of my body, but that has all changed. It reminds me that I am getting older. That as time goes by I may see more and more of this sort of thing. I may have to get that left hip checked out – even replaced. AAAUUUGGHGHHHH! Spirit! What are you doing? What the fuck is going on?
Nothing to do but wait for the meaning to present itself. Just keep on keepin’ on.
Last weekend I went for a walk. I hadn’t gone the day before: it had been storming and very windy, so I’d skipped it. I hadn’t thought the storm was that bad, but as I did my first lap, I saw that not one, not two, but three – yes, 3 – trees had taken a major hit. Two had lost their tops completely; their trunks broken, jagged, open. The top half lay on the ground beside them, also jagged, almost gasping. The third was a major branch of a larger tree – same jagged edges where the wood was soft, or weak, or damaged and scarred. For all three trees, it seemed it had just given way, had allowed itself to break at its weakest, most brittle and fragile part. The parts that had been changed by circumstance - weather or insect or disease, where the tree had gone through some tough times and survived - were the parts that finally had to go. The trees followed the path of least resistance. They knew that in order to survive they needed to completely let go – let that part of them break away and die so that they could continue living.
And they were no less beautiful for it.
(Three images above of three trees that lost their top, or a sizable limb - and said limb lying next to them)
It became obvious. It’s okay to let go of the parts that are scarred and damaged – the parts that are weak and sick – the parts that might be keeping you from thriving. You won’t forget those pieces of yourself because they will leave a scar, but you will be lighter for having let them fall. They don’t need to come with you as you continue rising toward the sun.
Sometimes choosing the path of least resistance is okay. It might be scary. It might feel like the storm will kill you unless you give in to it, and let it take what it will. It could be painful, because you don’t think you can survive without that part of you. But you know – and your soul knows - when it’s time.
It’s time.
This lesson brought to you by spirit…
And by the number 3.