The process of embracing the divine flow of your life and trusting yourself: the witch is moving

there is a part of everyone that doesn't want things to change, even when it is good...so what do you do in those transitional moments when things seem to be falling apart; what if you were wrong?

This week I wrote about what I am learning the hard way. But sometimes the hard way, is The Way, you know? And that’s ok. We are all here to learn. This week I could feel my next step in life and things were unfolding beautifully. I was embracing another tiny jump off a metaphorical cliff again and I knew I would find my wings, or that something would catch me, and that cliffs are not what they seem and in the end, take me up rather than down. But when things started to seemingly go wrong, I questioned my intuition. It is sort of like getting an answer to a prayer and then wondering about it, followed by getting frantic about it. The whole process pointed out to me that I want to trust more when I feel the path in front of me. I want to trust my inner compass even when my mind starts to think it needs a tune up. I can see that now. And without awareness, there is no choice in life, right? So this is my little story about all of that:

Fabricio (sounds like Fabreeeeceeeeo) and tiny Cruz are moving my things into his car that arrived to take them and me to my new location in the city. The car is not the truck I expected and thought I needed and he assured me it would be fine.

They begin moving things and I cringe more. I always help. I like to help as it is hard to let people do things for me still. Especially tiny women like Cruz grabbing boxes and suitcases that are larger than she is.

But I am frantic enough to ignore that part of me and I let them continue as I sit rapidly tapping away on my phone.

Fabricio, and his likely 200 lb. frame, helped me find my couch a few months before and then assembled it for me with the legs on crooked while also bouncing on my new supposedly counter height chair in an effort to force it to adjust, whilst breaking it in the process. I thought he really didn’t care and now I know that he was doing his best. Funny how sometimes people who are doing their best for us can seem to be purposely out to get us, and then to realize that yet again, I was wrong. But this post isn’t about self-deprecation. It is intended to be about self-awareness and how to have more of it and…

This is the morning of my move.

Any move is out of my comfort zone. I know that sounds strange right? Me, who sold her house, gave away her stuff and travels the world. It sounds exciting doesn’t it? It sounds perhaps romantic and adventurous? Or maybe something that you read about as you snuggle into your armchair and the hugs of your family and feel grateful you can be vicarious sometimes.

And why would I live like this when it is so out of my comfort zone? I was wondering the same thing during those frantic moments.

I am very aware there are young parts of myself that need care. There is three year old me that got put on an airplane with a man she didn’t know and sent to visit grandparents in another state I imagine she didn’t know well either, while her 6 month old new baby sister and parents remained behind. She used to cry when there was a rare call home that summer to talk to Mommy and Daddy. Grandma thought that since she didn’t cry otherwise, those calls were a bad idea.

So there is that.

Then there is the simple discomfort of uncertainty. Our minds prefer us to remain in situations that we are used to, because the mind has strategies for that.

Every time we step off a cliff into the unknown, there is always resistance from the mind. This means letting go of abusive habits, substances, people, and situations. They are all known and if you haven’t died yet, your mind is good with it. The ultimate goal is to stay alive for this primeval part I am talking about here. We are not talking about the wise, civilized, rational-you.

It’s one reason people remain in abusive situations. At least it is known, and that, for a part of us, feels safer than any alternative.

I know these things and sometimes have acted them out. I also know that parts of me have been seeking a haven and a nest to snuggle into for pretty much my whole life. Other parts of me definitely want to live simply and free. Parts don’t always agree, if you know what I mean?

My solution to a lot of this is to offer myself care, check in with how different aspects of me are doing and comfort them and not force things, and especially, to trust my inner compass. I have a post on that and how I use it. But basically, after practicing a lot of things, I can now hold my hands in front of me and put imaginary questions and choices in them and see what I feel drawn to. This has worked so well for me that I have used it to make big decisions like selling my house and giving away all my things.

I use it for small decisions too.

Moving to a new place seems like a small decision, and yet, now that I have been living in El Salvador for a year and a half, I have accumulated more things. Things like my new distiller, my Berkey water filter, a comforter I just bought for my new bed in the city…crystals from Guatemala, a mandala I painted…ahhh…things. And I love the things.

I had awoken on this moving day with a familiar sense of poignant uncertainty. I lived in my most recent place on the beach for at least six months (I didn’t keep track carefully and I know it was quite a while). I befriend things like houses too. They feel alive to me and I decorate them and snuggle in as best I can.

I had spent three days tearing this one apart, cleaning it, and saying my goodbye as boxes and crates exploded in my tiny living room in chaos that I hoped would soon form some kind of moveable-order.

The plan was to relocate to a beautiful place in the city for three months to finish my book. I had already started writing my weekly blog to you ahead of time as inspiration came to me, which felt like it would allow more time and space to swim in the book without leaving our weekly flow and my commitment here behind. I didn’t intend to write ahead. It just started happening.

The new place was serene, stunning actually and not at all a “normal” place to move. They rent rooms to people sometimes who come here to speak at conferences, or to work for a short time. Interesting people. And mostly, I was told, I would be in a big mansion on a hill on my own, peacefully isolated, just my computer and me.

That morning, in my bed, my compass said clearly that I was doing the right thing. (Thank goodness it doesn’t judge me for asking it the same thing over and over again.)

Later, as I watched the sun rise on the beach, and said goodbye to my favorite cave…as I watched light sparkle and glisten in rivers of gold, my compass reassured me again that “Yes, this is definitely the right thing.”

As far as I knew, someone was moving in to my old place the same day I left, although no one had confirmed that for me. When I had asked what time I needed to leave (more than once), I got no response; so it was me that settled on 11am.

So, I was ready at 10am, an hour before my taxi, that I thought would be a truck, was scheduled to arrive. I also had requested the man who owned the taxi service drive me. He speaks English and it felt good to have someone I knew move me as I am tender at times like this.

That is when my phone went, “Ding,” and I looked down to see my friend, who had offered me the opportunity to live in the new place, was texting me.

Hi Terra, good morning. Yesterday morning, I had someone reach out about renting the entire home the entire month of December for a mix of retreats/ events. This morning they confirmed.

I wanted to let you know that the stay at Palestra House may only actually be for the month of November… And perhaps after that, but still somewhat to be determined. I want to be sure that this is ok for you

Now, here is what I want to learn how to do, that I did not do:

My inner compass has been correct over and over for me. Just an hour before on the beach, as I sat on my favorite lava rock, it had confirmed strongly that this was the way life was calling me. And I would have liked to have trusted it when that text came in and moved with simple curiosity, as it was taking me to the city and the mansion for a reason. It just might not be the reason I thought.

But the part of me that received the text, whose stomach immediately plunged, was a mixture of me at three, me at five, me when I moved myself up the California coastline to college in a blue VW Bug with my friend (and no parents), and me that got a divorce and drove to Arizona with my son, bereft of the support of most of my family.

That me was ready to nestle into my new retreat for three months. Three weeks was a whole different story (as one week in November, I have a flight scheduled to visit family in the US). By now I even had a pink rose bush that I had purchased a pot for. Raul had repotted it for me with pretty purple ice plant circling it’s stem. I planned to talk to it in my new temporary home.

Moving all my things for only three weeks, unpacking and repacking my multiple suitcases, sifting through my stuff, only to have to pile it back in…and on top of it all, not knowing where I was going to go next, and high season was coming…did I mention high season at the beach? And most of my friends were in El Zonte.

So, as Fabricio and Cruz packed up the SUV that he assured me would fit everything, I sat texting my friends in El Zonte and asking if they knew of any local places to move to. My mind was adamant. I was going to finish this book and moving all my stuff frequently was not ideal, plus the situation was triggering me deeply.

My friend, Seb, arrived to pick up the slightly broken counter top chair he helped me assemble after Fabricio’s failed attempt a few months before. He also removed the shower head I had purchased to install in the new apartment he was building. He mentioned they only last six months, so it was less of a gift than I imagined. And I wanted him to have those things as he had been so supportive in the past, when I really needed him.

Now when he showed up I looked into his compassionate, brown surfer-eyes with native wisdom embedded in them, along with his wide smile which greeted me and I started to cry harder.

I really needed to just speak to somebody, and Fabricio and Cruz were understanding…but it was hard to relate what I was struggling with with our different native languages.

There would have been no problem if I had just taken a breath and trusted my compass. I would simply have gotten in the taxi, and moved in for three weeks. I would have known that there was some reason, a good reason, this was all happening.

But my mind and past were in the driver’s seat and I gushed my worries and my thoughts that maybe, I just needed to find another place, RIGHT NOW, in El Zonte…So I inquired if, by the way, the new place he was building to rent was finished yet? I am sure I sounded desperate.

Now, as I write this, this very second, on Day 2, Seb, (who is French Canadian and speaks English as a second language), is texting me. This is what the text says:

Hi good news so that give you a good amount of time for your book

I am not so sure when the appartement will be ready I don’t want to rush myself but I let you know when I am close to be done

Have a nice weekend ✌🏽

Now, this again, is my compass speaking I am sure.

There are no accidents and I am guided and I can trust the journey.

It is just that I forget, and I want to get better at the “trust the journey” part.

My taxi driver was understanding and after my car was loaded, he drove me to various places around El Zonte, where I talked to friends and looked for rentals. As I found nothing acceptable at that moment (although I did get the number from an architect building a new condo project on the beach), we headed to the city and Fabricio assured me it was no problem for him to return in three weeks to remove all the things he had carefully stacked into his vehicle. I am touched and pleased to say that in the end, not one thing broke despite some less than ideal packing on my part.

His boss was texting and displeased that his driver was tied up much longer than expected. Nevertheless, after dropping my goods at the mansion, which Fabricio appreciated just as much as me, he agreed to drop me at Soya, my favorite organic grocery store, on his way back to the beach.

Fabricio. He has a beautiful voice which I have heard while he sings songs in English. It is how he is learning to speak it. He played the song below and I looked up the words so we could sing together as we headed to get my groceries.

Fabricio and I singing…before I knew I could stay until December, and after I had accepted what was happening

I shopped, and then had to wait for about 45 minutes as Uber drivers accepted and then declined my request to pick me up. But eventually, one paper bag of 10 raw eggs and a very full cold bag from Trader Joes full of organic juice drinks, chocolate, sprouts, a brownie, a couple tomatoes, and some oyster mushrooms and I were squeezed into the front seat of a small car.

He deposited me and my supplies at the excruciatingly beautiful mansion that felt like home and I started unpacking.

I met Reina, the maid, who was kind and we became friends. We found shelves in the fridge for my things.

Reina

Soon after, my mansion-renting friend arrived. He apologized for the earlier text and told me he had worked things out and wanted to honor his commitment to me. I could stay until the end of December, and maybe longer. He counted my payment, in cash, and provided a rental agreement that felt more like care for me than a legal document, and stipulated we would give one another thirty days notice before ending our agreement.

As we sat there, we gazed at the lights sparkling below in the city. A cool breeze blew over my skin, fresh and soothing. I felt where I was, perched up on a hill above this country that feels like a beacon of hope in so many ways to me.

My Uber driver had passed a white van on our way back labeled: “La Policia.” He pointed and said something in Spanish. The something was how lovely that van was and how happy he was it was here and La Policia were doing their job, keeping the people safe and free.

My mansion patron introduced me to Sawyer, who I learned will also be staying here for three weeks. Sawyer was equally tired and newly arrived from the airport. It was late and I explained what I had just learned, how to order from the Soya restaurant and have the food delivered by Uber Eats. He ordered two chicken dinners and asked about weight lifting. My patron told him where to go and I asked to tag along. I knew both Calisthenics Kevin and I would be happy. Now I could keep up my training and Sawyer and I could travel together to the gym. I have a feeling he will help me.

When Kevin came to say goodbye, before the triggering text had arrived, I found myself sobbing. I was going to miss him and his training. I had found more than a supportive young man. I had a friend. He dropped off some things for me, and I gave him a phone I wasn’t using. He had a plastic bag with laminated flyers in it and pictures of people at his gym.

There is a world famous surfer in El Zonte, whose name, I am ashamed to say, I still don’t have memorized. His photo was on the right side of the flyer. Another client was featured in the center and on the left? Well, on the left was me, wearing white and doing a handstand. Kevin was always impressed I knew how to do that. Now as I left, he planned to plaster my photo at the various hotels around town, along with the one of the famous surfer, “for my marketing.”

Who wouldn’t cry?

I slept well, mostly. I sat and watched the sparkling city lights from the comfy, padded window seat and went to bed early. But it was a new place, so I woke up at 3:13 am. I pay attention to numbers, so I checked what it meant.

Well, that made sense. I took a breath and fell back into a peaceful slumber.

I awoke just as the sun was about to rise. One intention I had for my time here, was to make it outside to see it the moment it started to peak its head above the horizon. This was my first opportunity. It was stunning. I thought when I left the beach, I would miss the way the light twinkles and dances on the water and as I gazed at the busy city nestled in these volcanic hills, the emerging light began to glint across the windows, sparkling. Later, I saw two vultures on the roof next door, wings spread wide.

I wondered why I love this place so much? Why it feels so good to me? I have never craved a mansion and most of the large expensive homes I have been in don’t feel homey. But this place does. If God made a house designed for me, this would be it. “And why is that?” I asked myself.

So I started to pay attention as I explored. This house is designed so that you walk through it in curves. The staircase is not only wide, but swooping. To get to the kitchen, you have to walk an arcing path that reminds me of a stream. The kitchen floor has bright blue tiles and white cabinets, mostly empty. Large windows that open wide above a little round table with four wooden chairs sit next to the island countertop.

My bathroom shower is huge, and I don’t know why. Just that it feels good. It has tiles that, when they are not white, have tiny pink flowers with little green leaves. Something in me settles in with that, something that sighs a little bit.

My things are all unpacked and stored. It is the first time they have been in a walk-in closet since I sold my house. A few of the shelves are missing. The mansion feels like it has been loved, like it has grown from a place on the Earth that flows with love, like Chartres Cathedral, and it echoes with the energy of that and the time that it has been here, holding it under its wings.

Sawyer and I wandered through the grounds and wove our way through the rooms.

It is an adventure to find how to get to the bottom.

He is sitting near by, like a friend in a coffee shop.

I tried working next to him on the table, but I needed space. Just enough space. We both feel each other in a comforting way, while respecting the work we do. I imagine my root chakra is healing in many ways recently. The root chakra that gives me a sense of place and belonging, that offers stability, that trusts the people around me are there for me when I need them and mostly, is learning to trust in its own wisdom as it and I mature. My root chakra likes the feeling of Sawyer who sits 15 yards away with his back to me, headphones on, working at a round table. I am on a bar stool at a high counter facing the city. This is where they serve drinks when there are parties here. But today, the glass blocks embedded in the structure beneath my feet allow a calming light to shine and I feel like the chairs that face me hold little invisible angelic beings, who accompany me.

After Sawyer and I wandered I realized I was hungry. I asked Sawyer, who had now locked himself out of his room by accident, if he was too? He confirmed he felt the same as me so I made us both breakfast. I know how it is to land somewhere new and have to search for food. It feels good we both start this day, and this journey together softly…

The book, Happy Money, has taught me a lot of things. Mainly, it has taught me to see myself and the people around me with more love and to allow energy to flow…whether that is in the form of listening when it feels good to us both, providing scrambled eggs, or receiving care.

Sawyer and I…ready to eat

The thing I most wish to learn now, is to allow life to flow with more ease and to trust my compass. Sawyer said he wished he could have come here sooner. But I told him I thought the timing was just right. I thought I would be on my own here, but Sawyer is with me, and that is good. My compass knows what is best for me, even when my mind disagrees. I just want to remember that and let myself enjoy the journey.

May yours be blessed as well.

(And the mansion is run by Palestra Society. You can join here to access monthly calls, and videos.)

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