In my 36+ years on this planet I’ve grown a ton. I’ve travelled the globe, swam in all five oceans and moved half way around the world on my own. I’ve ran away from things, I’ve ran to things. I’ve ran and I’ve stopped. Most important of all though I’ve learned to be comfortable in my own skin. In silence and solitude I like who I am. I like myself. I trust myself.
I spent many unhappy years searching for my place in this
world, trying to find my space, my inner peace, myself. The big thing I’ve learned through this
journey is to always trust my gut. My
instincts. There have been many times I’ve
ignored them only to be shown they were right and other times where I’ve followed them
blindly and came out all the better for it.
Heart overriding head. Proven
correct time after time after time.
My first real wake up to this was back in high school with a
boy whose name I can’t even recall. I
remember a conversation with him though – on the phone – asking him to be
careful as I had been shaken from a dream where he was on the water and bashed
his head on the rocks – it didn’t turn out so well. In hindsight I’m not sure why I told him this
– maybe a case of better safe than sorry.
Imagine my surprise then when a week later he called me back after a day
spent wake boarding at the cottage – the shock and disbelief in his voice as he
told me about the stitches in his head, crashing into the shore after letting
go of the rope. A moment in time. And though this is the one that stands out
the most – the first – there have been many more instances along the way – like
picking black 22 on the roulette wheel a few weeks ago, as a near stranger placed
his bets, tripled his money.
The thing is, my gut isn’t always speaking to me. There are often weeks, months where it doesn’t
say a thing but there are other times where it screams aloud. A solid difference from my daily hopes and
dreams, wants and needs. A feeling
rooted deep of just knowing.
Sensing. Feeling. Of seeing the signs laid before me, an
intense sensation deep in my belly that I can’t understand or explain, that
comes from out of nowhere. Intuition.
With him it was there early on. Very early.
I’d barely known him a month, it felt like three. Three months felt like years. History.
In those early days, in the first moment that he tucked me under his arm
– I knew – I’d been there before – in another lifetime perhaps. But more than that – this place – the one
that I fit in so perfectly beside him – it felt like home. The place I belonged. Past and future all at once. Real.
It wasn’t too long after that in an unexpected moment long before we
ever got together that I felt like he was the man I was going to marry. To be fair, I’d uttered those words before –
to my girlfriends in years gone by while gossiping about the latest boy on my
radar but there was a distinct difference with him – it wasn’t a want or an
urge, it was a feeling. Not something
consciously dredged up from the recesses of my mind but something rooted deep
within my soul. I can see now though how telling him added too much pressure to us – gave him every
reason to doubt, to run – in how paranormal it was – though he is a boy who
believes in ghosts.
So where is all this leading now that the path for him and I
has diverged, that we are no more. It’s
leading me back to trust. Trust in those
instincts I’ve honed through the years. Trust in a random moment of writing a few weeks back – as the
words flowed from my pen, an urelated image floating through my mind. A man on a beach, barefoot. Khaki pants rolled at the ankles mirrored by the
cuffs turned up on his white button down. Trust in the series of leather bracelets wrapped around his right wrist –
the browns in similar shades to the hair on his arms, on his head. I couldn’t see his face in that vision so
brief, so clear - but I could feel the sparkle in his eyes reflecting at me, the
stunning smile emanating the laughter from his heart. My future wrapped up in that image – such a
contradiction to my rational mind. To
letting go.
I can’t shake it though – these combined series of
moments. Interweaving through the
months, through my being. I trust them
as much as I trust the words that I uttered to him in a moment of sadness not
long ago – my belief in the happy ending – the belief that I’ll have the loving
relationship that I crave, that I deserve.
A full partnership, solid and real and lasting. It’s echoed in that image. There was a moment last week, a blink – where
the image evolved. I could see my feet
in the sand, the bottom of my white silky dress. The daisies.
His hand reaching back towards me, to pull me along into the laughter and
lightness. My life. In a flash it was his face, his sparkling
eyes and stunning smile. An iteration of
the feeling from so long ago. Head and
heart warring – knowing to trust my instincts, struggling to let go. Letting fate and the spirits guide my
course. Trusting in the picture laid out
before me – the partner, an equal. The
child(ren). Solid foundations underneath
us. For all time.
I have no idea what my future holds but I trust it will be
beautiful. It will be full of laughter
and happiness and love. I trust that I’ll
have my moment in the sand, with the boy who will grab for my hand, will hold it forever, will look at me with sparkling eyes. I trust the universe. I trust the subconscious voices. I trust my instincts.
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