This week, I experienced a monumental, incredibly humbling, life-changing moment of gratitude and spiritual awakening!
Ready?
Wait!? I bet you think I had a visit from a giant angel (I totally did, but that was years ago), or maybe that chorus of voices that called themselves Fred showed up again (that happened after I shot my TV show, and they come and go as they please—read my book Uncharted for that freaky story), or maybe Louise Hay came through in a waking dream and said she picked me to straighten up (that happened a couple of months ago).
Nope! None of those.
I had my first actual shower in a week.
Not a sponge at the sink makeshift cleansing, but a real water-driving shower. I was so overcome with gratitude I can’t even explain it.
Since I broke my foot, I have not figured out how to get up and over the not-so-short tiled wall into my shower without putting any pressure on the fracture.
I tried everything. I tried sitting down and swinging over, but I couldn’t get back up. I tried rolling my knee scooter in and using a cane, but the large pebble-based ground in the shower wouldn’t allow me any stability. That was quite a sight. I’m really lucky I didn’t break or sprain something else.
I finally learned that one could order a large plastic (recycled) boot cover that wouldn’t let the water in. So when that came to the door, I knew I was in business.
So, boot cast on, plastic boot on top, a cane to help me get up and into the shower, my knee scooter to get me from bed to bathroom, and a crutch inside the shower on top of a towel just in case, I had an epiphany.
Being forced to live in the moment, fully present to what was in front of me, I recognized how much time I’ve spent not doing that— not appreciating the things I’ve come to take for granted.
The feeling of taking that amazing shower, washing my hair, even with one arm inside a crutch, was all I focused on. My mind finally in the vastness of the here and now and not lost in the ghostlands of the past or future. I wasn’t planning my next project other than ensuring I didn’t get soap in my eyes.
I have clean running water, food on the table, more than I need. I have friends who care about me, a husband who is taking care of me right now since simple things are hard at present, and I have my three tiny dogs who refuse to leave my side. I am rich beyond measure because of those things alone.
And even more so because I trust that this freak “accident” has a spiritual gift and treasure.
My amazing coach, Dr. Darren Weisman, who developed the LifeLine technique®, reminds me that this is a gift in “strange wrapping paper.” I signed up to work with him last summer because I knew I needed to get to the bottom of some deeply embedded subconscious patterns if I was to become the person I wanted to become at this stage of my life.
I have a lot still hiding in those shadows, especially the ones I inherited. I needed a really skilled spiritual archeologist to go deep with me.
So, I’m not surprised all this came up. I’ve been asking for this to be revealed. This deep-seated belief that the only way I get taken care of, and can take a break is if I get sick or hurt myself.
I see this in a lot of healers, empaths, and people who are called to serve others, where caretaking, holding space, and often getting drained become our identity, not just our reality.
I have been consciously peeling away that layer, finally excavating the ancestral part. These past 10 days have been strangely good for me as I’ve sat with the ghost of my mother and the 7 generations of women in my family, loving them with new compassion and understanding.
And so, regardless of all the revelations, I still spent hours and hours trying to figure out a way that I could still keep my travel obligations and show up for people.
I had to cancel 3 events in Phoenix.
My favorite thing to do is the I Can Do it conference!!! Doctor’s orders! No flying—too soon. High risk for Blood clots, etc. Disappointing people— heaven forbid!
I was acutely aware many people were coming just to see me. Yet… I had to cancel and be present to the deeper “why”.
The days of going on stage with pneumonia and all kinds of ailments because the show must go on are over. This time I had to make another choice even though I wished it were different. I genuinely care about the people who come to see me.
The clarity and the truth of it all have finally taken root this week and I am at peace.
Right now the simplest things are calling for my attention. The more I am present to them, watching the wild turkeys do their twice-daily rounds on my property, listening to the sounds of birds awakening to spring, to the coyotes’ mating calls at dusk, to the time it takes me to get down a flight of stairs without falling—the closer I get to Spirit.
Life on life’s terms. All of this is a gift.
As are you … as are you.
