News from Jules | 05.02.2022 | Leap of Faith Part 3
A life I didn’t plan, but I simply lived into by being faithful to the process.
And that’s about all I know. Because I’ve never been to my future—yet. So how I get there and what happens once I’m there is all a leap of faith.
Technically, I haven’t left Portland, Ore. but my cross-country road trip definitely started last week. On Thursday, I moved the rest of my stuff into my storage unit, then packed my car with everything I think I’ll need while working at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY, from June through October.
I am still here because I am waiting for another chance to conceive life with my current care team. After a successful hysteroscopy procedure in March, I was fully recovered and got my hopes up during another attempt in April.
Yet, two weeks ago I found myself still in the tragic gap between the hard realities within me and what I know is possible.
I wasn’t actually in Cape Disappointment like last summer, but the sadness was exactly the same. Once again, I was sitting on the beach watching the waves and crying as my cycle confirmed yet another negative pregnancy test.
Just me, Grandmother Ocean and all the feelings of doubt and insecurity about ever living into my fullest potential as a human. Bringing forth everything I have been gifted to offer the world: family, kids, writing, teaching, retreating, being.
Once again, I listened for guidance—from within and from the wind.
Stay the course.
What the Universe has said—and I have ignored—so many times.
Because it didn’t make sense. Because it didn’t match my plans. Because I didn’t know what that looked like. Because I didn’t like it. Because I knew better.
That’s how I used to feel complete trust and confidence.
But, when I actually listen, when I follow, when I show up, when I try, I am being faithful to the process. Especially when it doesn’t feel like faith.
This is how it felt in 2017.
As I drove us to the coast for our annual spiritual womens’ group retreat, I tried to explain to my friend this sensation I’d felt since the Winter Solstice a few months before. That I had completed something. Finished a season of growth nearly a decade in the making.
I didn’t “know” this. How could I?
But I felt it was true.
She had known me for four of those years, so I believed her when she replied: “Oh yeah, you’ve been growing so much. This is amazing! We have to have a blessing for this!”
And since she’s a pastor, I figured she knew about these things.
So I said yes.
But what was “this”?
A new life.
That was in February of 2017. A few weeks later at the Spring Equinox, I went on a personal retreat to Menucha Retreat & Conference Center in the Columbia River Gorge. I stood on the stone shaped like Oregon as I stepped into their Labyrinth and posed my question: What does this new life look like?
I walked and listened and collaged and dreamed into a vision over the next few days:
Everyday Integrity was conceived there.
I outlined several course and book and retreat concepts.
I noticed a shortage of modern retreat facilities in Oregon.
And I discovered a cottage tucked away in a garden on Craig’s List that looked like the perfect little “retreat” home where I could bring all of this to life.
I moved out of my old apartment and into that new life on May 2, 2017. Five years ago today.
A few days later, my spiritual communities cohosted a “New Life Blessing” where dozens of friends and family showed up, brought flowers for a May Day floral crown and shared their well wishes. I was asked to explain what this “new life” looked like, but I once again struggled to find the words to describe the sensation of following my intuition.
I struggled to describe the life I am now fully living.
A new life that looks like my own.
And not like any one I’ve ever seen.
A life I didn’t plan, but I simply lived into by being faithful to the process. Especially when it didn’t feel like faith.
And that’s where I am now.
Fulfilling many leaps of faith and departing Portland later this week for the next phase of this new life. Who knows where I’ll be next Monday, but I’ll let you know!
May you stay the course this week.
Love,
Jules