Intuition

Over the last year I have had an amazing lesson in trusting my intuition.

In some ways it has been a costly lesson too - when I haven't trusted my intuition. In other ways it has been difficult to trust my intuition because of others' expectations.

However, I have now had so much proof that the only thing I should follow is my intuition (which is different to following your ego), that I have enrolled myself in a course with lady G (no, not lady GaGa) to learn how to use my intuition, and how to distinguish between intuition and ego. As she couldn't start a course immediately, I purchased a book from her and made a start on developing this skill. And I also booked myself into a healing session with lady G, as a last final resort to try and get rid of the cancer. (Rather than having it removed through an operation).

Tonight the phone rings. My husband picks it up, then he looks at me with that questioning look - "Do you know a lady G?". I snatch the phone from him. "Hello, lady G, how are you?". "I am well, but, I have a situation, and well ... I can no longer give you the course, I can't give you the healing, I simply need to stop working immediately". I thank her for letting me know, and wish her well in her situation and I assure her that I will be fine with mine.

I hang up, raise my hands up to the air, and call out "Allelluia!". To the observer it might look like I have just been let down. But the universe plays out its game like a cleverly designed multidimensional game of chess, where every move, however subtle, is carefully calculated, and events plait themselves together and weave apart as required.

The message I have just received from the universe, is that I have arrived! I do not need lady G's healing, and I no longer need the course. I am doing just fine following my own intuition, and distinguishing between it, and my ego.

I am now totally at peace with my situation, my cancer and my life. Cancer has taught me an important lesson in my life. Not just one of following my intuition. It taught me one of value. Of balance. It taught me that above all things is my health. That it's a privilige to be alive. It taught me that you can only do a limited number of things in a day, and you are fully in charge of what they are. So you should do the things that are most meaningful to your life. The opinions of others are just that ... the opinions of others.

Of course it has been, and will be a painful lesson. The operation looms a mere few days ahead of me. But I know that things will go well. I know that the universe wants me to be alive. It doesn't just want me to be alive. It wants me to achieve my dreams. That's why this is just such a small hump in the road. Because there is so much "life" still ahead of me.

Could I have learnt some, or even all of these lessons earlier? Of course I could have. Life and the universe had been sending me hints for years. Some hints were too subtle, and I never stopped to think about them. (I don't know, do you call a raptured ACL too subtle?) Other hints were too confronting, and I found them insulting, and turned away from them with arrogance. I was too tough, too fit, too much of a tomboy, feeling too much like an invincible 25 year old. It took Breast Cancer to stop me in my tracks, and make me grow up and become a woman. Or should I say ... an Amazon?

Maybe I'll take up archery on horseback?

Horses have feelings too

Tornado is a slightly cheeky pony, and one that doesn't always love the attention of his devoted five year old owner.

Putting his ears back and running away from the little girl are frequent occurrances, but he has also been driven to extremes of biting and kicking out. Of course, when these things happen, Mum steps in to call truce and both the little girl and the little pony get some re-education, as most of the time, both are at fault in some way.

I guess the pony could argue his case that "she started it", but ... well ... whatever.

Today Sabina and I head out soon after breakfast and saddle up Tornado. Sabina never eats very well for breakfast, and normally I am loaded with snacks. Not so today. Fatal mistake.

By the time we have the pony brushed and saddled, Sabina is out of energy. Some small tiny insignificant little issue sets her off, and bingo, she's in tears. I try and soothe her with words.

Tornado lets out a big sigh, walks over to Sabina and cuddles his head into her chest. Ever so gently. It works like a magic healing balm. Sabina, overwhelmed, gently cuddles his head, wipes her tears, and is all smiles again. Ready to ride.

If I hadn't seen it myself, I would have never believed it.