When Spirit Brings You Guidance

It seems as if we’ve all been experiencing an enormous amount of loss over the past few years. For some, that loss looks like a divorce, a job, a home, a friendship, self-worth, or death. I am certainly no exception. I guess that’s one thing we all have in common… we’re all experiencing loss. And with loss comes pain.

Pain doesn’t discriminate based on its cause. Pain simply feels like pain. No matter what we’re going through, we all feel it, and we’re all just trying to find our way through it.

I had finally reached a place of peace. I felt free to move forward and create what my new life would look like in the wake of all those losses. And then the biggest loss of all hit me, seemingly out of nowhere.

My dog, Spirit, the very soul who had helped me get through all those other losses, died. I understand that people who have never known the love of a soul dog may not understand the devastation of this kind of loss. Spirit had helped me through the death of my previous soul dog, Tink. He had helped me through the death of my dad and my divorce.

Through all the pain, stress, and chaos, Spirit had been my constant. And now, that was gone, too.

I did the work. I sat with the pain, journaled, meditated, prayed, set intentions, and practiced gratitude. I did talk therapy, EMDR, craniosacral therapy, crystal Reiki healing, spiritual coaching, equine therapy, and Thai massage therapy. I leaned on my loved ones for support, confided in them, socialized, laughed, traveled, and worked. I practiced yoga, ran, hiked, swam, ate healthy, stayed hydrated, read, took baths, and did breathing exercises. And it worked, for the most part. I did all the things. And they helped for a few months. But then the pain crept back in.

Our spiritual coach, Pasquale, recommended a full moon meditation to release the pain and whatever no longer served me, while setting intentions for my highest good. My initial reaction was hesitation. I’d already done all of that. I remember thinking, I’ve already done all this…

And immediately, my intuition softly overrode my ego: Do it again.

I listened.

This time, instead of lying in bed and visualizing the full moon shining down on me from just outside my door, I ventured outside. I sat barefoot in the dirt. This time, I didn’t have to visualize the brilliance of the moon. I just had to look up.

I picked up a rose quartz crystal lying on the gravel nearby. With its symbolism of self-love, I placed the crystal between my legs, settled into a traditional meditation pose, and began to breathe.

I got lost in the moonlight until, eventually, I closed my eyes and allowed the moon’s glow to wash over me. I placed my palms on the Earth beside me. My only intention was to breathe and let go. I invited the light to enter every cell in my body, to unblock and release everything that was holding me back or limiting me.

What made this meditation different from the others was that, this time, there were no thoughts directing the process. I wasn’t trying to make anything happen. I simply allowed myself to feel.

And then I asked the moon, the universe, and my spirit team for guidance for my highest good. Nothing specific.

Just guidance.

Suddenly, the motion-sensor light near where I was sitting turned on. What was strange was that it hadn’t turned on when I first sat down, and there didn’t seem to be any other movement nearby. Even with my eyes closed, I could see the bright light intruding into the darkness behind my eyelids. I tried my best to ignore it and stay connected to the moon and my intention of seeking guidance.

The light turned off. The darkness returned, and I immediately felt calm again. I leaned back into that darkness energetically. Then that damn light turned on again. I checked in with my body, making sure I was as still as I possibly could be so the light would turn off and stay off. But the more I tried to remain still, the more the light kept turning on and off, repeatedly, in a rhythmic pattern. Eventually, I had no choice but to lean into that, too, and allow it to become part of the process.

Then it dawned on me to ask myself why the light felt so intrusive.

I realized it was because, in the darkness, I could simply be. I could be me, fully and completely. I was free to be whatever version of myself showed up in that moment. But the light shining on me made me feel as though I had to get it right. I had to sit up straight, breathe properly, focus, say just the right things, listen for just the right amount of time, and receive the perfect answer.

Well, I did receive my perfect answer. Just not in the way I had expected, which is usually how these things work. With a deep exhale, I gently smiled, looked back up at the full moon, mischievously smirked, rolled my eyes, muttered under my breath, “Nice,” and laughed to myself.

What’s even crazier is that, after my little chuckle, I repeated my gratitude for the guidance, as I always do. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

And the light turned off.

It stayed off.

The light stayed off even when I jumped, startled by the sound of the outdoor air-conditioning unit suddenly kicking on.

It stayed off when I completed my meditation, as I do in yoga, with a “Namaste”: prayer hands to my heart, prayer hands to my third eye, a gentle bow, and prayer hands returning to my heart, all with love and gratitude.

It stayed off when I stood up and walked back into the house.

We often look for grandiose answers, epiphanies, and undeniable signs, when so often, the message is much quieter and simpler.

Just be.