Trusting your intuition and listening to the divine

It's not always easy and it's been worth it

I want to start today by saying, “Today is one of those easy days.” More than that, “Today is a day I feel like I am blessed and that all I do and have been through is for a reason.”

Life is not easy.

It’s not.

It can be exquisite. It can be funny. It can be painful. It can be sad.

Life can be a lot of things.

And sometimes there are moments of ease. It is good to remember that too when you are in the thick of things.

“This too shall pass.”

Today, for me (and this may or may not change in a short hour when I meet someone new I really don’t know well), is easy. This moment has not one thing I would change.

It is not often in my life I can say that.

And I feel tears prickling behind my eyes a bit because I feel like I have been gifted this day. I feel like the hard things, the things I think about, the dojo of life I engage with as consciously as I can, is recognized by the invisible beings and field of energy in which I exist and they knew something of which I was only slightly aware. They knew I needed a break.

So they gave my intuition a nudge when they suggested I book this hotel in Ataco, a small, artsy town on the Ruta de Las Flores (route of the flowers). I found the place on my own, poking around on Google Maps, and then my friend, George, sent me a link to the same place (in my opinion, that is an example of subtle beings giving me an extra tap on the shoulder to pay attention). George used to own an exclusive hotel on the beach in El Salvador.

“We sent people there all the time Terra and they loved it.”

My mind did it’s regular thing and argued a bit at the expense, but it didn’t argue much. It was tired too.

Now here I am, delivered late last night, at Casa Degraciela, Ataco.

And what am I doing on my first morning?

Well, I am working on my blog of course. And it’s fun for me.

“What would be fun for you, Terra?”

Remember that question I suggested you and I ask ourselves each day in my post last week?

It still seems like a good one.

But today I didn’t have to ask.

I was too busy sleeping and the impulse to type here just kind of flowed its way in at the same time a young man with the starched white shirt and black pants strolled down to turn on the fountain nearby after I finished my lovely breakfast.

For the first time in what feels like years, I slept really, really well. I was asleep by 9 pm, woke up a little after 5 am (which is when I usually wake up) and fell back asleep. When I checked the time again, it was 7:30 am. Breakfast begins here at 8.

Rest.

Rest is so important and even when you want it and you know you need it, it doesn’t always come easily. At least not for me.

I am in a two hundred year old hotel in Ataco that was built by the Spaniards when they were in the conquest phase of things (and I don’t mean to minimize the repercussions of such behavior, just to name it). My hotel surrounds a courtyard of grass and flowers. There is a comfortable lounge chair with a thick cushion on it in case I wish to lie in the sun, which I usually wish for each day (since I have decided sun is healthy) and a gazebo in the center. There is also a fairly intact carriage simply in need of a horse.

It is quiet, even though I am next to the church in the middle of a small town. I count the sound of lovely church bells (which these are), the fountain, and the almost imperceptible soothing music the hotel is playing as “quiet”.

I can see ATVs outside the entrance that are for rent.

But I don’t hear them.

Not behind these thick walls that hold me like a warm cocoon.

A while back, I was thinking of houses and what would help me sleep better. I imagined digging a hole into the earth and tucking my bed in it. The rest of my bedroom would be open, with windows. But my bed would be nestled in, away from EMFs and whatever else is floating in the atmosphere such as collective anxiety. I think I sleep better inside the Earth. My uncle’s guest bedroom partly underground always has been restful as well.

When I walked into my new little hotel room I had to laugh.

There was a sign welcoming Mr. Terra Brooke, which was sweet. The staff don’t speak English and so they must still be learning the difference between Mr., Mrs., Ms., and Miss. Honestly, so am I.

The little note sat on the bed, which was tucked in between three thick walls, just as I imagined.

Sure, it isn’t buried in the Earth, but those walls feel like it. I imagine they are whitewashed adobe.

Honestly, this is one of the most beautiful, restful places I have ever stayed.

And….

I am the only guest here until tomorrow afternoon.

I know that because as I arrived for my included breakfast, I felt suspicious this was the case and I asked.

In five days, I have to leave as the whole place is booked for a wedding.

I imagine my situation is unusual.

There is a restaurant here and a small bar (but not really a bar, more a tranquil room where people can chat over a cocktail). You would have to know about both as they are tucked in like my room, off the street. Hardly anyone was in either of them last night.

So I feel like a princess in a palace.

My room is tiny, yet there was a place for everything and I breathed a sigh of relief as sometimes, it is hard to live like I live (and don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining and I’m not ready change anything quite yet).

I spent the last few days carefully organizing my things into tubs and suitcases as I prepared to move most of it into a storage unit, and still decided to lug two large, heavy suitcases along with me moving forward. I like my yoga mat (mats actually as I put the portable one on top of the thicker one), my yoga block, strap, hiking poles, umbrella…and supplements. All of that filled one suitcase. I have what might look like a disturbing amount of supplements, but they too, feel like care. Not the same as stuffed animals for sure, but in some ways, similar.

I moved it all downstairs on my own so they would be ready for Juan, who showed up the next morning with a larger car he borrowed from a friend, to help me move. It still took two trips. We got in a couple of tugging matches over my suitcases as I am still learning to receive assistance. It might have been humorous to watch, or troubling, depending on your perspective. But Juan wanted to help and honestly, I needed it. Despite my attempts to focus on my body alignment the past few days, my lower back was beginning to complain.

And sure, I am lucky. I really am. I thought about that this morning. Who would consider me lucky?

Probably people working 9-5, or more likely 8am to 6pm with a long drive added on top, under fluorescent lights, with their billable hours carefully tracked.

I am lucky.

Very lucky.

And it is not just luck that got me here and certainly, not everyone would consider me lucky.

The part about not owning a home, sorting through stuff, repacking because I don’t know what or where I am packing for, and dealing with whatever anxiety arises along with situations with other people in various lodgings that are not always delightful…all I can say is that I reached a point of exhaustion I didn’t even know I was feeling until I lay down on that bed last night and said, “Ahhhhh. Ahhhhh. I really needed this.”

And to have This, I had to trust my intuition as I have been doing for about four years now. When it is clear, I follow it, regardless of what my mind says.

It is neutral on this person I am meeting and since it is not a “Hell, yes!” I will try to remember that and hold back from any further commitments. And I will check my intuition again after.

I came to Ataco both to see the town, and to write. I have two chapters left to finish rewriting in my book before hiring the editors and they are not easy ones. Especially the one in front of me now. I have to go back in time and revisit a time at a hospital again and it wasn’t pleasant. I have to ask myself, “What did I learn from this? What were the gifts?” I know it is good to do this. Good for the people who choose to read my book and good for me as well. But it is not easy, despite my surroundings. And I am going to do it. Sometimes the answer to the question “What would be fun for you today, Terra?” is not what my mind might think, as it’s definition of fun differs from that of my soul and intuition. But that’s ok. In the end, transformational activities are fun for me. That is my guiding light and what powers my compass the most. It is why I chose, Becoming a Butterfly, as the name of this blog. I truly believe we are all here for an ongoing process of transformation into states of more freedom, connection, and joy.

And it is probably not by chance that as I set my yoga mat up on the grass in the afternoon, a Monarch butterfly flittered about with it’s orange and black wings in front of me. And then suddenly there were two, busy making more butterflies together.

It is very sweet that people, some people, and some butterflies, seem to want to spend time with me.

I have two contacts here who offered to show me the town and I will reach out to them.

But I don’t want to fill my days too much. I want to snuggle in and do what I came to do which is to write, and to rest.

I am here right now, because I jumped off a lot of metaphorical cliffs. I made investment decisions (some I remind myself were “learning opportunities”, some better ones came from what I learned). I left everything I knew (three times now not counting moving to college) when I didn’t really know what I was doing, but my intuition did.

And I live alone and mostly travel alone.

That would have terrified me in the past.

But then again, it begs the question, “Am I alone?”.

Is my life something I do on my own, navigate on my own, manage on my own, and suffer with (at times), alone?

In moments like this, I am sure that is not the case.

I am loved. Very loved.

And those guides, through and with my intuition, brought me here.

Don’t get me wrong.

They are my trainers. They are managing this Dojo in which I exist. I truly believe I do live in a form of The Matrix in a universe of many possibility states and timelines of which this is only one. I may be participating in many right now, as one friend told me he did (he could feel himself on another planet in a different form concurrent with this life…and he was a PhD psychologist who had done a lot of drugs and then psychedelics, so take that story as you wish), in many timelines all at once.

But the thought of that feels like too much. It’s enough to feel this bed… snuggled between some thick walls. That’s all I want right now.

I was going to write to you today about boundaries, people who cross them, people who project their pain at you and at me, as my intuition and guides have been tossing a few of those lions into the arena with me lately (with love of course) and I have been playing around with my tools and responses.

But I still don’t have a tidy answer other than to say, “Hey you. You. The one in this moment reading or listening. People will project their “sh—t” at you. I don’t think this can be avoided no matter who you are. And it isn’t your fault. I imagine since it happened to so many amazing beings I know of, it can happen to anyone.”

When it happens to me, I still get scared and Fear is not the most useful response when faced with a wounded lion in the gladiator arena looking for a distraction. That lion is feeling what I will call, “IT.”

The “IT” is wounded energy that they are familiar with and are experiencing which usually, unless they are exploring and interested in such things, they don’t want to feel. And they are quite unaware they are feeling a wound in themselves. “Where could it be coming from, this pain?” they wonder.

Then they cast their eyes across the arena as they see a target in sight. They look for someone to blame, or something to be upset about. Anything to distract themselves or free themselves from their pain. It doesn’t help if you, like me, might at times be interested in wounds and be poking around in one they are familiar with like a physician making an assessment. These wounds can be shared and so if you are exploring something and they are nearby, the wounded energy in them can be triggered. And they are not going to like that, even if it is unintentional on your part.

There are many reasons people are feeling unhealed personal and ancestral wounds in themselves right now, and they, like the lion, look for a distraction from it. Any distraction. Maybe they choose to bring up the topic of politics if you aren’t nearby? And if you are, well…the lion may appear in your dojo too.

For me, it helps right now just to see the dynamic and to thank my guides for the recent practice sessions and for this respite from it.

I hope to write to you about some tools and some answers for gladiators with wounded lions, and I still have more to learn.

So this week, I am going with trusting your intuition and your inner compass. I do believe it is a way to align with the divine and to follow the stream of one’s life, rather than fighting against it, or getting stuck in the bracken on the edges.

And even when I follow my intuition, I sometimes encounter rapids.

Or I wake up scrolling through X instead of feeling the delightful sensation of my bed (this bed) and thanking God for this respite, for butterflies, for fountains, and for opportunities to learn to face lions, and the Fear in me, until I become adept at taming them and myself.

Whether you are a butterfly in flight right now, or a caterpillar liquifying or chomping on some leaves in this moment, I wish you discernment, trust, and support. I wish you Grace and a sense of your own inner compass. There is Beauty in there. It is harder to notice it scrolling through X. I need to remember that.

—Much Love from one Dojo to another

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Here are a few recent photos from El Salvador:

After a few trips to the storage unit, and a quick tour to an area of San Salvador I was told I might like to live (Nuevo Cuscatlan), the botanical gardens, and swapping cars, Juan battled traffic for hours and surprised me on the way with a stop at San Andrés, some lovely ruins that reminded me a lot of Ireland, before dropping me off for one night at the hot springs.

He left me in Santa Teresa where I booked one night on the way to Ataco. It was fun, they add chlorine to the water, and play a LOT of lively music. (I took this photo early in the morning before they opened the next day).

Me at a Bitcoin meetup in Bicentenario Park in San Salvador, soon before leaving the city. Photo credit: Bianca

A stunning house in the city my new architect friend Victor is building for his son-in-law and daughter in San Benito (an area of San Salvador) that I toured last week.

An Iguana from the botanical gardens near Nuevo Cuscatlán. Juan doesn’t like them. I thought it seemed to be smiling.

Me, at the restaurant on top of what is called “The Library,”a huge multi-story building on the main square downtown, which recently opened. Probably my first glass of wine in a year. I had just finished packing before leaving the next morning. Three friends came to meet me, all in their 20s and early 30s, all doing things to make the world a better place. I felt pretty touched to be with them.

Something else I haven’t ordered in years. I got it here at the hotel after dinner my first night. The cream was freshly whipped and not sweet and layered with strawberries, some kind of liqueur, and scoops of vanilla sorbet. I love my typical diet which rarely includes alcohol or anything with refined sugar. Yet, when I checked my inner compass both times, it said, “Yes!” and I felt fine after. Delighted actually. Inner compasses don’t seem to be rigid.

Lastly, a photo from the San Leonardo coffee shop in Ataco where they grind their own beans. There are lots of old typewriters in this city. That is probably a good sign.

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