From what I can tell, the Universe and I had started making deals with each other when I was pregnant with my first child and just about to finish my undergraduate degree in forestry. Fine! I thought to myself as I exited the 101 on Marsh Street in downtown SLO. I’ll follow my instincts, even when they seem ridiculous, and you keep giving me signs.
That phase of my life had been dedicated to immersing myself in the art and science of managing forests; I assumed that the “art” portion will come with time in the woods as a professional, but I could fast-track the science part to my heart’s content. Well trained in the scientific method, my built-in conscious assumption was that if my instincts were totally silly and random, then that information would reveal itself to me via the patterns of life. Sure, sometimes I would miss a sign of confirmation from the Universe, but I wouldn’t miss so many that it would significantly skew my results.
This bargain came to be out of necessity, as they must. Everything in my life was upside down & to add insult to injury, my boyfriend and baby’s father stealthily, cowardly moved just his personal things out of our apartment on California Street, while I took a huge hydrology final. He stopped by one more time, and we sat on the tailgate of his truck as my Mom huffed and labored inside our apartment to move me (and the rest of our accumulated college junk) out.
I don’t remember everything he said, but he communicated that he couldn’t be a father now. I know I’m going to Hell for this decision, he said, more than once. Even then, my heart broke for him. The anger would set in later.
Twenty-four years on, I’m proud of that version of me. She had started therapy and Al-Anon, haltingly. She was newly obsessed with “becoming the best version” of herself, in a way that would, eventually, almooost become unhealthy. And she was brave! So fucking brave! She knew that she’d be okay, she knew that she was doing the right things, broadly, in her life. She knew that she’d be a fantastic mom, and she knew that there were better days ahead. I love her for so deeply trusting that self-knowledge, however so tiny. Even now, I marvel.
Anyhoo, a side-effect of my first pregnancy was that my intuition became LOUD. I became unable to prevent it from jamming my inner mind. My stubbornness wasn’t helping. Little things like “Oh, I should drive to work the back way, even though it will take me longer and I’ll get a worse parking spot probably and, blah blah blah” I just couldn’t shove down anymore. FINE! The bargain was born.
I’m still following my instincts, and I’m still making deals with God/the Universe.
My current deal with God/the Universe involves another type (or scale?) of surrender – and isn’t that how it always is?! Where this first conscious promise during my pregnancy taught me how to hone my intuition and empathic skills, my most recent feels emotionally vulnerable in ways that are so new that I don’t really know how to talk about it. My mind’s image right now is a paleontologist using a fine paintbrush to softly dust off sediment from a well-preserved fossil. See how they lovingly expose ancient information: just a little whoosh whoosh whoosh of the brush and maybe a puff of air from pursed lip.
