News from Jules | 10.31.2022 | On the Road: Part 1
The call of the road grew stronger after I returned from a mini-road trip to Cape Cod and Boston to visit family and friends in mid-September. The freedom. The change of scenery. The sense of flow. The COVID-19 long overdue visits with loved ones. I longed to be back out in the world outside of the retreat center bubble. The thought crossed my mind: What if I just left now?
What would I be missing?
It turns out a lot.
Every day over the past six weeks I’ve watched in astonishment as all the green trees I’d taken for granted turned ablaze with color and blew away, leaving stark perspective for miles in every direction.
I attended inspiring workshop sessions and made more friends with guests, including some who are now hosting me on the road.
I continued ongoing, deep discernment conversations while enjoying one last hangout with each in my inner circle.
I followed my bliss from day into a moon-kissed night.
And I faced some of my deepest chakra healing inner work yet.
The day before my trip to the Cape, I had a routine visit to the Women’s clinic in Rhinebeck, NY. The day after I returned from the Cape, I had my fourth ultrasound this year to monitor cysts and other growths. Three weeks later on October 12, the OBGYN was the fifth doctor this year to recommend laparoscopic surgery. So on October 21, I went into the hospital for an outpatient procedure to drain cysts, test my fallopian tubes, remove the IUD and make a diagnosis—all amazingly covered in full by New York Medicaid.
What I remember most from that day is what felt like the most magical send-off from Cassesopia, Orion, and the whole Milky Way.
Of all the starry nights so far, that one was by far the clearest. As I walked to the parking lot for my hospital ride at 6 a.m.—just 75 minutes before sunrise—it was still the blackest night and brightest stars I’d seen. I had never been awake before the sun to know that this was possible. It truly is always darkest right before the dawn.
Surprised, I took two quick inhales and then one long, visible exhale into the 34-degree air.
The next 12 hours and then the past nine days have been a bit of a blur.
Between triggering my residual trauma from the tragic loss of my mother from a similar procedure 20 years ago, helplessly surrendering to the loving help of others, processing the diagnosis and treatment options of moderate to severe Endometriosis that’s potentially been blocking fertility all this time, and recovering strongly enough so that I could pack up and hit the road back to Oregon.
Yes. It’s a lot.
And all of which I would have missed, had I left early. Instead, I stayed true to my leap of faith for the whole season and for I am deeply grateful. Indeed, a leap of faith, not a leap of fear.
What’s the difference?
Knowing enough so that our eyes are wide open and looking forward. Believing in what we’re leaping toward and why. Without specific expectations of an outcome beyond heading in the right direction. Driven less by uncertainty and more by curiosity, it is a challenging, yet attainable, jumping across—not off.
Worth attempting to see: what is possible.
Coming to Omega was my fifth leap across the country. And now I am making my sixth.
Yesterday, I departed Omega after the end of the 2022 retreat season. Some five months, 20,000+ guests, and what felt like one million golf cart rides—plus 18 newsletters, 18 climbing sessions, 15 kayak sessions, 13 hikes, 8 folks who now feel like family and dozens of new friends across the country, 3 trips to Banff, NYC and Cape Cod, 1 COVID quarantine and 1 surgery—after I arrived.
Just like on the way here, I feel my faith and intuition strengthen each time I follow exactly what the Universe offers.
Whether that’s big, like surgery, or something seemingly trivial.
Like last night my best friend from Omega recommended a store on Main St. in his cute little town in New Jersey where I might find a new journal because the one I’m currently using is full. I waited until the shop opened this morning and I immediately found a journal with a calm Buddha—with an oddly striking resemblance to me—sitting inside a lotus flower on the front. It was the only one left and it was perfect!
“Regardless of its dirty environment and the muddy water it’s rooted in, the lotus rises above it all to bloom in beauty, facing the sun,” according to Symbolsage which I quickly googled in the shop. The lotus represents spiritual enlightenment, detachment, resurrection or new beginnings, purity, nature and womanhood, and remaining true to yourself and who you are.
Or how I wrote this sitting at the Small World Coffee shop in Princeton, New Jersey, as recommended a few hours prior by another friend. I didn’t know yet where I’d write today until I noticed Princeton on the map halfway between New Jersey and Philadelphia so I texted my friend who went to college there.
And tonight I’m staying with a former Omega guest I met this season at her house in Glenside, PA. She had mentioned her big empty nester house as we were trail running on campus and to let her know if I passed through her neck of the woods. So I did.
Hopefully, I’ll venture into Philadelphia tomorrow and then down to visit friends in Potomac, MD on Tuesday night, Washington D.C. on Wednesday-Thursday nights, Durham, NC on Friday-Saturday nights, and family in the suburbs of Charlotte, SC on Sunday and Monday nights. And then we’ll see.
I’ll keep you updated next week on where I’ve been, how I’m healing, and where I’m heading. Since I’m beholden to others’ wifi and parking meters, this series of “On the Road” posts might be a bit less polished than usual, so thanks for bearing with me. Oh, and follow along on Instagram Stories to see my adventures in real-time between now and then!
May you too accept what the Universe offers this week.
Love,
Jules