Seeing the Forest for the Trees
and everything else
Oh deer…
Ten minutes from arriving at my new home in Northern Michigan in the darkness of Labor Day evening, I collided with an enormous buck and totaled my car. I’ve never seen a land mammal so large fly so high, or do as many aerial flips. I sometimes wonder if he is still floating around in the ether somewhere, wondering himself if or when he will ever come back down.
Needless to say, that is not how I imagined this move to go. And while I do love a good story, and adventure, this one has taken a while to sink in. I’ve struggled to see the forest for the trees and as someone who can usually read the signs pretty well, I’m truly stunned.
I had a good cry (or two) about it which pretty quickly morphed in to hysterical laughter because honestly, what are the odds? How often do you arrive in something you’ve dreamed of for so long only to be greeted with an opening ceremony that kills not only a woodland creature friend (or sends them in to outer space) but also your car, and every idea you’d conjured of how it was all going to go?
I’ve always said the Universe is a comedian and I suppose now I am front row and center for the latest show.
I don’t really know what I’m going to do. I am not in a position to buy a new car. Here is what I do know, though: I very consciously chose a life of magic.
I tend to get lost in the details a lot, swirling about in the questions that sound like “how am I going to get a new car?” and “why did this happen?” and “what am I missing?” and “where is the money going to come from?” “what does this say about me?” and every “what if…” scenario you could ever think of. It is hard sometimes when you’re deep in your own process to really see the forest for the trees. To zoom out and gather your self in a moment of knowing that you’re going to be ok and this isn’t some kind of punishment and that someday you will get say to a table full of friends over a bottle of red wine and good food “remember when?” through laughter and a hell of a lot of hindsight as I look over adoringly at my Ford Bronco or Toyota 4Runner or whatever adventuremobile is sitting in the driveway.
But like I said, I chose a life of magic. In my inability to see clearly, I keep coming back to this truth. Magic; one of the things I have been most decisive and sure about in the entirety of my almost 36 years of life. And with that choice comes belief systems that exist outside of the normal rationale and reasoning that may come with a situation like this. It comes with curiosity and asking new questions. And lucky for me, I’ve got nothing but time.
I also have a wonderful roommate Chelsea who has wheels (a Honda Element we affectionately call “Toaster” because of its boxy nature) and a shared existence in a paradigm that does not pressure me to “figure it out.” For this I am grateful. She often reminds me (Chelsea, not Toaster) that everything happens in perfect timing. Both the deer incident as well as a new car coming in to my reality. Just in the last week or two I’ve begun thanking the deer for its life; he had some part in this divine orchestration and the sacrifice of his life makes me hold space for the possibility that what is to come is entirely beyond my own comprehension. A miracle perhaps. And for that sacrifice to make way for such a miracle, I am grateful.
Remembering my belief in magic opens me up to a range of possibility. A new car coming into existence in my reality may arrive in myriad of ways, and my job it seems is to let go of knowing which one.
What makes me think I have to buy the car? What if its given to me? What if my business wildly takes off and I can buy my own car? What if a stranger walks up to me and just hands me their keys because they think I have a cute face? What if I finally win one of those free car giveaways I keep signing for? Most importantly, what makes me think there is only one way?
Before I moved, a friend shared with me she used to not understand how I live my life. That while it would scare the shit out of her to live her life similarly, she respects the hell out of me and my work and my journey. I’ve always had people tell me they’re jealous of me and my life, and the way I live it. That they wish they could be as brave as me or as risk-taking or as give-no-fucks.
Honestly, living my life this way doesn’t always make rational sense. Even though it’s my life, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. It requires a radical amount of trust both in the Universe and in my self and an ever-evolving relationship with my intuition. It requires thick skin, and/or a sense of humor, for when strangers ask you innocent questions to make conversation and your answers illicit looks and stares and confusion and even sometimes a freeze response out of them not really knowing how to respond to whatever information I’ve just laid out before them. I’m constantly measuring whether I’m crazy, whether I’ve had enough, whether I could ever return to whatever life was before living this like.
But my answer is always no. I can’t go back. That wasn’t living. Here, in deep trust and openness to the possibility, in the unknown, in choosing joy, in the space where we think we’ve arrived but we’re really just perpetually in the in-between, in an ever-evolving moment that requests all of me and my heart - that is where I feel the most alive. That is where I believe we truly do our most rich and abundant living.
Everything Else
It hasn’t all been about death and dying. I went sailing with a neighbor for the first time ever and now I want a sailboat. When a sail boat catches the wind and picks up speed it leans over, or heels. It also finds the most balance when it heels. It is a sailboat’s sweet spot. In those moments, it felt like I was flying. To feel of the air amongst the water felt like a paradox I could get used to, or perhaps already have.
Chelsea and I have decided that time here makes no sense. It feels like there isn’t a lot of time between sleeps while it also feels like we could have been here for a month or for years. It’s hard to tell. Toaster takes us in to the neighboring town of Traverse City a few times a week for grocery runs, art shows, live music, and to drink old fashions or wine. The drive home is typically slower when it’s at night, while we sometimes enjoy an American Spirit as Chelsea plays me her favorite tunes while we keep our eyes peeled for deer.
I’ve ridden my bike hundreds of miles around the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore which is just another dream within a dream come true. I’ve ridden through places that were meaningful between my ex and me (the one who I’ve begun writing about in my last newsletter) and realized this is just a part of my scavenger hunt. That I’m collecting parts of my self I’ve left behind.
Motels and trails and specific beaches that were part of our story are now places I ride by or visit and write new stories. It seems its a way for me to call some of my power back as I continue unravelling that relationship. I stumbled upon a motel on M22 we stayed at once and found my self calling my energy back from it. It’s like I could feel so much of my self still there, likely holding on to the memories of what it once was, and what we once were to me.
The beach is one mile from my house. Harper and I go for frequent beach hikes and sunset walks and it is a gift to watch her in her joy as she chases birds, eats fish bones, and swims to her heart’s delight. I also volunteered at the Sleeping Bear Dunes marathon handing out medals to runners as they crossed the finish line at this beach. It was a gift to witness such a range of raw emotion in each one.
Beyond all of that, I’m building my business offering Akashic Record readings and coaching. I’m coming to realize that my work in the Akashic Record (AR) doing readings for other people has really affirmed a glaringly obvious truth for me; that everything you need to know you already do.
Perhaps that’s why I’m not/no longer freaking out about my circumstance. The AR always provides the perfect support for exactly where you’re at. It doesn’t predict the future or give you the answers to all of life’s quandaries. It lovingly offers you support and nurturance for what your head or heart needs now. It’s like stepping into an energetic container where you, your higher self, your guides and ancestors, and whoever else decides to show up, all converge very knights of the round table style to really hold up a mirror to you and reflect back to you all of the knowing you already have. All of the power you already possess. All of the ways you’ve already arrived.
The AR has taught me that beyond love, there is almost nothing more important than self trust. That self trust is really what acts as the architect in the creation of my life. Knowing that, plus the insight and support the AR offers has really allowed me to rest safely in the rubble of my ever-evolving, joyful, heart-centered life.
Maybe I am brave, maybe I do take risks. But it is only because I continue to practice trusting my self, and the Universe, and the process. I trust that I will soon be able to see the forest for the trees. That as there is a great clearing and space being made in my life, beautiful and wondrous people and things will also come in. I trust that while good things are coming, good things are already all around me.
And so deeper in to the mystery I go.
Tallyho,
Jenny