The Silence of the Ants

If memory serves me right – although these days it is not the best servant – the year was 1998. Maybe it was 1997 – before I changed.   My ex-husband and I had designed, built, and moved into a beautiful pueblo styled home on 2 acres on the outskirts of town.  The setting was also beautiful – the acreage backing up to state land abutting the military fort.  No one could build in front of or to the west side of us.  The mountains, like a crouching tiger, protected our backs.  Ahhhh…paradise. 

But there were ants.  A huge colony of them lived underground near the front gate.  They didn’t bother me really – but they were there.  A spreading area of arid land gave testimony to their successful colonization.  Each time I walked the dog I worried about her getting eaten by them.  I imagined them creeping up on her one evening as she slumbered, taking tiny pieces of her until only bones were left glistening in the southwest sun.  Ick.  The ants must die!

I read on the internet that one must kill the queen or the colony would just move and start over – much like bees I guess.  This is best done at night when the entire colony is home, sleeping, unaware.  So I went to the local Ace and got the strongest ant killer commercially sold. 

Like a thief in the night, with the thin beam of a flashlight, I picked my way through the un-landscaped yard and took up position at the ant hole.  Carefully opening the bottle of poison, I poured the entire contents down the hatch.   If I was prone to evil laughs I would have uttered one then – along with rubbing my hands together.  My job done, I picked my way back, cleaned up, disposed of the evidence, and went to bed.  Mission accomplished.

Upon awakening the next morning, and while still in bed, I was greeted by a phenomenon I had never before experienced: there was a silence underneath the seeming cacophony of the wind, the birds, and the usual bustle of the day.  Something was gone from the world.  The music that I had grown used to while living on the land had changed.  An entire section of the band was lost and in its place was a large black hole. The silence was indescribable.  Immediately I knew what part was missing and I also knew I was the cause. 

I collapsed in tears like someone had sucked the air out of me.  Deep sadness filled my heart as I sobbed “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”over and over.  As I recount this, the tears in my eyes overflow while snot drips down the front of my blouse.  

Native Peoples tell us that we are all connected and that we are ONE with the animals and the trees.   Before my experience that sounded like pure bullshit – bullshit and a lot of touchy feely impractical stuff.  I appreciate the hell out of the fact that I don’t have to hunt my own meat or kill and pluck my own chickens – plucking chickens is nasty work – but I just couldn’t picture myself at Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods calling in the four directions, scattering cornmeal, smudging, and thanking Brother Bull for the fine cut of grass-fed prime rib.  

I know there are no hard feelings on the part of Antdom towards me.  I could make myself feel better by saying that we (the ants and I) arranged this so that I might learn of our connection and that killing a colony of ants is way better (better?) than killing a gaggle of geese or a flock of seagulls or a  _____ of _____.   Whatever explanation I or anyone can give, the lesson of my connection with The All is ingrained in me – from deep experiential understanding. 

I am not sure why this memory has persistently been in my mind for the last 2 weeks or so.  Maybe it has to do with reading Martha Beck’s latest book* and resisting the exercises within.  In the section on “Oneness” she suggests ways of connecting with nature.  In my “been there, done that and it scared and saddened the shit out of me yet still intrigues me” way I am stuck in the beginning of that section.  There is a heightened responsibility that comes from the knowing that one affects and is affected by nature – even ants.  Maybe I am not yet ready for the responsibility.  Maybe if I fully open (to what?) my cats will speak to me, will start to demand better food and higher standards of living and I will have to comply.  Who knows….Maybe I can move on after writing this.

 Caveat:  If you see someone at Whole Foods, in the meat section, bowing to the four directions, offering cornmeal, and waving a smoking sage wand around…that is not me.  I prefer to give thanks and acknowledgement in my heart. 

Courtni

*Finding your way in a wild new world – Martha Beck

 

 

 

Gut Punched!

I’ve just been gut punched, brought to my knees, and left crying on the floor. 

Unknown to me,  I have been wearing a mask.  This is not the real me.  When I trained as a life coach in 2006 my clear intent was to help my clients by easily identifying (by listening) the negative or limiting core beliefs a client was running, translate what I heard into the client’s own life experiences, reflect the limiting beliefs back to my client, and then offer ways to help them change by integrating beliefs more aligned with their true unlimited self.  Sounds helpful?  Yes.  But the method I used to integrate these intents within me was so effective it had me seeing the bad, and mostly the bad in everyone, everything, every situation.  Despite my cheery façade I was a seething mass of negativity.  Well…I’m being a bit dramatic.  Okay, a lot dramatic.

This point of view of seeing only what needed to change leaked easily into my non-coaching life.  I looked for what was “wrong” with my friends and how I could ‘fix’ them.  Ick!   I attracted men I coached.  Double ick!  I was always “on.”  I even took my skewed point of view into my workplace.  As a RN I did not have to look hard to see what was wrong with my patients or what needed to be changed.  I did not have to look hard to see their lack of self-responsibility.  I did not have to look hard to see their lack of self-love.  I did not have to look hard to see their powerlessness.  I saw these attributes at every turn and in my mind I assigned spiritual diagnoses along with spiritual solutions.  I got so good that I could have a very short conversation with a patient and know what spiritual imbalance led to his/her physical pain.  I could even listen to my co-workers complaints or conversations and come up with core beliefs they did not even know they had.  I could prove to clients time and again with kinesiology and by their own life examples the limiting beliefs that they were carrying.   I was even able to do this in brief conversations with strangers.  Not bragging but yes, I am that good.  But by looking for what needed to change, what was “wrong” I saw and spoke only about what was wrong or out of balance.  

The gut punch ~ Today I received an email to electronically sign my yearly evaluation.  I read the evaluation although the clinical coordinator and I had gone over it in her office.  At the end I read a line she had put in after our interview and my gut contracted: “…Courtni is negative…”  For a second I could not breathe.   Me?  Negative?  My eyes immediately filled with tears.

 Truthfully, I didn’t have to search for examples as they came flooding in fast and furious.  At a staff meeting yesterday I pointed out more problems than solutions.  I was Negative Nelly. 

Three other recent occurrences popped immediately into mind:

1)  An intuitive friend emailed me this week and twice mentioned “I tend to feel that you’re so sensitive and very tender on the inside but you’ve got some solid protective shield on the outside.” 

The first time he mentioned it I pooh-poohed the suggestion.  What? Me soft?  Yeah, right.  I am solid rock baby!  The second time he mentioned it I took a bit more notice.  Negativity is a great protective shield.

2) A couple of days later on Facebook I wrote “Happy Birthday to a shining example of joie de vivre!” for a friend’s birthday.

She replied “Thanks Court! Recognizing fault is easy … recognizing joy is a gift.”

Something stirred in my gut then and I took notice. 

 3) Yesterday at a staff meeting a fellow RN gave me a compliment.  I thanked her gracefully but in my mind I thought of ways to improve me.  My mind chatter was along the lines of “Thanks but…”

Years ago I worked in Psych department of a local hospital and had a patient who “saw” things written in the newspapers that no one else saw.  She once enthusiastically pointed to words and sentences saying “See? See?”

I looked but I saw nothing related to the conspiracy she voiced.  All I saw was the news in plain black and white. 

My mind seems to work a bit like hers as I tend to string together things that others might not normally string together.  For me the message in those 3 aforementioned and seemingly unrelated incidents that occurred back to back is that I tend to keep people away from me and protect myself by seeing mostly the negative.   In the space of less than a week I was asked to notice how I see myself and others and to realize that I can claim my gift of “recognizing joy” and all the other good in the world.    

This is rather difficult for me to write not only because of the tears in my eyes but also because this post shows a vulnerability that I don’t usually exhibit.  With my myopic desire to easily identify limiting core beliefs in my coaching clients I had become calloused and negative by failing to also incorporate identifying what was good and holy about them.  My unbalanced intent led me to see only what needed to be changed, improved, or made better in others, in situations, in places, and in myself.  As a result I became nitpicky and negative.

As snot runs down my nose, (Nasty visual but you try crying without snot running down your nose) I close for now. 

Something is coming down the pike and it is demanding that I change and come more into balance.  In order to recognize and receive my good I must shift my perspective and patterns.  Tonight’s magic?  To solidly incorporate seeing the good in every situation, every place, and, in every one, including me.  The other stuff I intended years ago?  I think I’ll let that go now. 

If you notice a change please let me know. 

“It is only when you hold each other in perfection that true healing takes place.” ~ The Soul Muse

Got Questions?

A couple of weekends ago I began re-listening to a recording of “Ask and it is Given.”  I owned the CDs for years and, to tell the truth, I don’t think I had ever listened to it.  I did glance through the book. 

While listening to the intro on the way to work I experienced a strong feeling of anticipation.  I felt something coming together.  Not coming from outside of me but a gelling of sorts – a deep understanding.  The feeling was so strong that after work I caught myself smiling as I hurried to my truck in anticipation of listening to more of the recording. 

Sure I know all the principles of the law of attraction and deliberately creating my reality, and have known this for years, but something was up. I could feel it.

Over the days of listening to the recording my feeling of anticipation faded and in its place was a clear understanding of how my life is the way it is.  Something that I’ve believed in my head finally clicked!  I used to attribute manifestations to loving external forces but now I know that things come into my life as a result of how I am flowing and allowing that flow back to me.  Simple, yet profound and a bit scary.  No benevolent being looking out for me (yet it all is benevolent) – just energetic responses to my beliefs and feelings that show up as people, things, and situations in my life.  I began deliberately playing with good thoughts/bad thoughts and feeling the difference in my gut.  When I thought about something that didn’t feel good I immediately went to a favorite thought (shopping on The Plaza in Santa Fe) and I would feel my entire being light up.  A smile, a sigh…I was back on track.  It was wild! 

Then 3 more things happened: A friend sent me a newsletter where he mentioned “Ask and it is Given,” a friend posted on Facebook page about Anita Moorjani - a woman who had a near death experience in 2006, and I met the author Howard Falco – the writer of “I AM.”

Anita’s journey from end-stage Hodgkin’s Lymphoma to full health is beyond fascinating.  I have read of other NDEs before, even meeting Danion Brinkley of “Saved by the Light,” but Anita’s story triggered a deeper awareness and understanding in me of how our beliefs, feelings, choices affect our lives and overall health.  Writing that seems so trite, so surface, but words cannot adequately explain what I awoke to while reading her story.  There is a deep knowing that learning about Anita is somehow intertwined with the recordings I was listening to, and with this stage of my life.

Howard Falco has his own fascinating journey.  For me the highlight of meeting him last Wednesday and hearing his talk was learning how to listen after asking.  It hit me just this morning that I have been asking but have not been open to receiving answers.  Had I secretly been expecting the answers to come in dramatic divine ways like a voice out of heaven or a burning bush that would totally freak me out and cause me to question my sanity?  Well, not really…I did expect a trio of small blue men to show up at the foot of my bed one night and give me all the answers to my questions.  All my friends get blue men.  Me?  I get zilch. 

I have always seen the asking as spoken of by Abraham as asking for material things, jobs, men…er…relationships, but this morning I knew that it also was about asking questions and getting answers.  Doh.  That I chose those recordings to listen to, discovered Anita’s story, and met Howard, in less than a week and a half is no coincidence.  I have asked and the answers are coming.  

Howard mentioned on Wednesday that answers are everywhere: billboards, license plates, something a friend says, a song on the radio, a thought that pops up…

So last night I asked a couple of questions, just 2.  My eyes, ears, and heart were open to answers from anywhere. 

Today a friend called me out of the blue and asked me if I could help with her yard sale.  She also offered space in her sale for anything I wanted to get rid of.  Just yesterday I had looked at a couple of chairs and thought about selling them.  I could call this a coincidence but I’d rather call it an answer to one of the questions I posed last night.  That was quick. 

If I keep following this thread where will it lead?  What if I truly trust that I am always given (answers) when I ask?  What then?  If I expect and allow answers then it will become so much easier to expect and allow the other things I am asking for.  I love this game!

My daily exercise:

• Writing down at least one question that I ask aloud. 
• Listening for and anticipating the answers. 
• Writing down the answers.
• Feeling the truth of the answers in my gut. 
• Acting on the guidance that the answers offer. 

Stay tuned…

Courtni ~ The Soul Muse

Intuitive Nursing

I took a walk this morning.  It kicked my ass.  I was huffing and puffing up the hill like an asthmatic 80 year old or an asthmatic at any age.  The incident from last week really took a toll on my energy.  So as I huffed and puffed I thought about said incident and how I overrode my intuition with logic and fear.  No matter that…I learned a lot. 

My musings took me to a time I worked at a short stay unit of a local hospital.  We had a patient there who stayed more than three days.  In fact he stayed over a month.  I had the privilege of taking care of him more than once and got to meet and know his family.  One day after a long weekend off I was assigned to him again.  I walked into his room that morning for the typical exam and looked into his eyes.  Alarm bells went off in my head and my gut clenched.  Something was wrong.  His eyes, usually bright and merry, seemed dull, dead.  He was also breathing through pursed lips.  He said he was feeling fine. 

I finished my examination and immediately called his attending physician.  I described what I saw and what I felt.  He ordered a spiral CT.  The result: the patient had a pulmonary embolus – a blood clot in his lungs. I get goose bumps whenever I think of this.  Had I not been his nurse that day would he have died?   We were so used to him.  Would any one else have noticed the change in him? 

I am forever grateful for my intuition and for that doctor who believed in me.   

I noticed recently that I can see the change in a patient from one day to the next and from one moment to the next.  I can’t see ‘auras’ or lights around people.  I just look at their face and see.  It is physical sight but also something else – a knowing perhaps. 

Recently I had a situation where a patient complained of chest pain.  An EKG showed sinus rhythm but she continued having chest pain and stated that it was getting worse.  Both my intuition and logic came together to suggest a GI cocktail to her doctor.  He agreed and ordered the medicine.  I called the pharmacist for a stat order, walked down and got the medication, then took it to the patient’s room.

To the patient I explained what the medication was, what it did, and why I was giving it to her.  “You might want to hold your breath,” I said.  “I hear it tastes nasty.”

She didn’t hold her breath. 

“This shit is disgusting…bleah!”  She drank it all. 

I promised to check with her in about 10 minutes. 

When I went back to ask how she was feeling she was animatedly chatting with her husband.  A puzzled look crossed her face briefly…then remembering. 

“Oh…That pain went like that!”  She snapped her fingers. 

Ah….a successful day in the neighborhood.  Intuitive Nurse strikes again!

Then why didn’t I listen to my own inner voice before going to the emergency room last week?  I have no idea.  Maybe I needed to look at life from both sides in order for me to feel compassion towards those patients I think are “drug seeking frequent-flyers.”

Today while I walked I also thought about my eating habits.  I don’t eat much but at work the weekend before last I existed on donuts and coffee 2 days in a row.   I had 3 or more donuts each day.   I truly want to eat better.  Last year I went RAW for an entire month but didn’t really love it.   

Upon discharge from the ER I was given written information on what foods to avoid or cut down on to decrease acidity in my body.  I was not told what to increase or add to my diet to combat acid.  The prescribed Prilosec would take care of that.

After my walk I logged into Facebook and there at the top of my news feed Dr. Mark Hyman posted a link to a book on Amazon.  The book – The Inside Tract: Your Good Gut Guide to Great Digestive Health - seems just what the doctor ordered.  How perfect was that!  It is like the Universe had conspired to shower me with clear answers.  I had no intention of taking Prilosec for the rest of my life or at all.  I don’t do unnecessary drugs.  There, in plain black and white, was a book with answers.  If diet and lifestyle changes can do the trick why not go that route? 

I just placed a copy of the book on hold at the library.  I will be reading it this week.

Diet changes are in place.  Lifestyle to follow…

Life is good.

Courtni ~ The Soul Muse

Undercover RN: The ER experience

The discomfort started at around 10:30 p.m. as I was driving home from an awesome night of dancing with friends.  The discomfort was under my sternum but it felt like gas – gas in my chest.  No worries, I thought, a little bit of hot ginger tea and perhaps some peppermint tea and a hot water bottle and I’ll be fine. 

Then the pain came – substernal, stabbing, relentless.  The pain radiated to my back between my shoulder blades and down the fronts of my thighs.  Down the fronts of my thighs? I had never been exposed to a symptom such as this.  My logical RN mind listed the possibilities – angina pectoris or heart attack?  But down the fronts of my thighs?  That made no sense. 

I crawled into bed clutching a hot water bottle to my chest and moaning “I want my mommy!”  My mother had been dead for over a decade.  No position brought relief as I alternately moved from side to back to side.  The first time I attempted to get up my legs felt weak, unsupportive, and I almost fell.  Clutching the footboard I attempted to stand but rolled back on the bed.  A heart attack began to seem more possible. 

When I could finally get up I walked around my home.  The words “GI cocktail” kept going through my head.  I had none of the ingredients: Donnatal, viscous Lidocaine, Mylanta.  In fact my medicine cabinet only contained ibuprofen.  I mixed up some baking soda in warm water and downed that.  A modest burp followed but the pain remained.  After that I was able to sleep for perhaps a half hour. 

For 4 hours I alternately walked or lay in bed, all the while clutching a hot water bottle to my chest.  Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and my body needed expert help.  I do not take going to the Emergency Room lightly.  As an uninsured person and RN, I stay away from doctors and hospitals (except for work) preferring prevention with diet, exercise, and supplements to cure.  During one episode of leg weakness I wondered if I was even able to drive to the ER and shouldn’t I just call an ambulance.  Economy shouted “No!”  

I did not know how long I would be at the hospital or what tests they would run so I removed my navel ring, packed my phone charger and other essentials, filled up the cat “vacation water” that would last for 7 days, and cleaned out their litter box. 

I drove to the closest ER – a hospital where I used to work - and signed in at 0406.  No one in the ER knew me nor was I asked my occupation.  For my complaint I wrote “Substernal pain radiating to back and down fronts of thighs.”   I was immediately whisked back by a triage nurse and had my vital signs taken by an aide.  My blood pressure was a bit high for me but still in the ’normal’ range for others.  My pulse was 90.  My temperature was not taken.  Then an EKG was done.  Even without my glasses I could see that it was sinus rhythm – a normal beat.  The RN and aide exchanged looks.

“It’s probably your gallbladder,” said the triage RN. ”I had mine taken out as a gift to myself at 44…You don’t need your gallbladder.”  How casual.   The stabbing substernal pains continued as I alternately moaned and grunted while I rocked.  I even said a choice word or 2.  The pain was that bad.  It even hurt to touch my sternum.  My ribs – the floating ribs on both sides - were also tender to touch.  I chose to walk, not be wheeled,  back to ER room 7 where I was given a gown and asked to change.  On my way to the room I came face to face with a hospital staffer who recognized me.  My cover blown, word then quickly spread that I was a RN. 

In room 7 the RN did an awesome job of starting a left antecubital 20gauge IV.  With gloved hands she expertly drew the ordered labs from my IV then converted it into a saline lock.  The triage RN later came into the room and said “You could have told us you were a RN.”  An accusation?  She had a sheepish look on her face.  Would I have gotten better service?  What would have been different?

The doctor came and palpated (pressed on) my abdomen.  “Tell me if this hurts,” He said.  My abdomen did not hurt.  The pain was below my sternum, radiating to my back and down the fronts of my thighs.  For some reason he and the doctor that followed wanted the pain to be in my abdomen.  My symptoms puzzled even the doctors. 

“I’ll get you some pain medicine and anti-nausea medicine,” He said.

“But I am not nauseous.”  To my ears I sounded like a petulant child.  My voice was tremulous, weird. 

“Some pain medicines might make you nauseous.  You should know that, you’re an RN.” 

I had just been spanked.

I just clutched my chest and moaned. 

At around 05:30 the ER RN came back with 3 vials.  “I’m going to give you Zofran, Demerol, and Toradol.”

“How much Demerol?”  God I sounded like a drug seeker! 

“Only 25 mg but you can get more if you need it.”

I explained to her that 25 mg of Demerol was the highest amount of narcotic I had ever taken and that more would not be necessary.  I did not tell her that for my hysterectomy I had only taken ibuprofen. 

I watched as she popped to tops off the bottles and drew up the medications without gloves and without using alcohol.

“Aren’t you going to clean the port with an alcohol wipe?” I asked.

“I could,” was her simple reply as she continued with no gloves and no alcohol.  Apparently she did not get the “She is a RN” memo.  She checked my arm band and called me “Hon” but did not verbally verify my name or date of birth.  I get that Courtney with an “i” seems daunting for a first timer to pronounce.  

I was in too much pain to argue or insist.  Obviously she protected herself by wearing gloves while drawing blood but saw no need to protect me from her germs and the germs of others she had touched when accessing my IV. 

Soon I was in la-la land with no care in the world.  I slept for about 2 hours and when I woke up the pain had gone from constant to intermittent and from a 9 to 6 or 7.  I was still hurting. 

An abdominal ultrasound and chest x-ray later and I discovered that my gallbladder was perfect and my lungs had a thing which I already knew about.  The second doctor came up with the diagnosis of GERD and wrote a script for a PPI – Prilosec 40 mg by mouth daily – a medication that would take 4 days to take effect.  I mentioned my thoughts of a GI cocktail to her and she asked if I wanted one.  I thought about it then decided against it and I am glad I did as later at home I came across a study online that stated that Mylanta by itself was just as effective.  That would have been one expensive 30 cc shot.

I was discharged in pain but with no pain medicine. 

The rest of the day on Friday was intense for me.  The pain was less than it had been in the ER but it was still there.  I also had abdominal bloating but still no abdominal pain.  I looked pregnant and could no longer “suck it in” and noticed that whenever I drank anything the substernal pain increased.  That day Mylanta was my drink of choice.

On Saturday I felt weak but much better.  Then the diarrhea began. 

Today is Sunday.  I feel weak.  Diarrhea continues.  My sternum and ribs are still tender to the touch.   I have been eating foods that alkalinize the blood and body.  The pain is a memory.

Looking back I can see the path that led to the acute acid attack.  My diet that Thursday night was french fries with ketchup, a shot of tequila, and a margarita.  That is a lot of acid.  The Standard American Diet (SAD) is all about acid.  I am looking into consciously incorporating more alkaline foods into my diet not just avoiding excess acidic foods. 

Having looked at life from both sides – as a patient and a nurse – I now realize how much judgment I hold towards people who we, in the medical field, label “frequent flyers’ or “drug seekers.”  To a prejudiced and untrained mind I was a typical drug seeker.  I presented with weird symptoms some of which suggested a heart or a gallbladder attack - which were ruled out with the typical tests.  I was coherent one second and moaning the next.  I could have been pretending.   I could have just wanted drugs. 

For me as a RN there is a lesson here, a lesson of non-judgment when dealing with the pain of others.  There is also something my body is telling me, something I cannot ‘stomach’.   I think I already know what it is.

Courtni ~ The Soul Muse

Changing my spots

Recently I purchased an awesome silver and stone bracelet from Ebay.  The stone (Larimar) can only be found in the Dominican Republic and is supposed to help soothe, calm, and center me along with bringing in peace and harmony.

Well…the entire process was less than harmonious.  When I attempted to try on the bracelet the toggle would not go through the hole (I’m sure there is another name for ‘the hole’ but whatever).  I thought I was doing something wrong but I tried several times with the same result.  Oh well…  I did like the bracelet so I sent an email to the company explaining what was wrong with the bracelet and that I would return it for repair but would NOT be paying the shipping charges.  They agreed to repair the bracelet and reimburse whatever I paid for shipping.

Awesome!  So I shipped it off.  When it came back to me the toggle part fit – sporadically.  Apparently they attempted to repair it by squeezing the toggle to make it smaller and fit into the hole.  Oh. Hell. No! 

I snapped off another email letting them know that not only would I be returning the bracelet, I would also give them very low marks and totally mess up their 99.7% customer satisfaction.  But while on their site I got another idea:  I am a pretty handy gal – why not have them supply a silver clasp so I can repair the bracelet myself?  They agreed.

The clasp came in a “postage due” package!  WTF?  This stone was not working for me at all.  I was not even close to feeling peaceful, harmonious, or centered.  I was pissed!    There was no way I could keep this bracelet.  Every time I looked at it I was reminded of how the company tried to screw me.  I’ll show them!  I had a few un-submitted reviews for other products I had bought from them so I could significantly lower their scores with bad reviews. 

But…in the middle of my anger I began to laugh.   I suddenly remembered another time I allowed my anger to get the best of me:  In 2006 I had a “cake” job.  I worked at a local hospital in the outpatient center.  I got to work at 1:30 p.m. and worked until 10 p.m.  I loved waking up late and would hike or go to the gym almost every day before work and rarely did we have patients that kept us beyond 8 p.m.   Weekends were not required and we got holidays off.  Being from a Post Anesthesia Care (PACU) background, I found recovering outpatients super easy and most of the time the OPC was empty while we waited for patients to return from their procedures.  I can count on one hand the amount of times anything serious happened and with 2 RNs and a monitor tech; emergencies were easily and quickly handled.  This was truly a dream job.

My dream job came to an end one day when one of the early shift nurses needed a leave of absence and my supervisor, without my input,  scheduled me for some of her shifts.  WTH?  I don’t do early!  I was livid. I quit that same day. 

With the bracelet I realized I was reacting in a similar way.  And to what end?  I would be out a lovely bracelet – all for the cost of $1.27 postage.  I would probably regret my decision as I still regret my decision to quit my job.  And the company (just like the OPC) would survive without me.

In that instant I reframed my association with the bracelet.  I decided to look at it and see the day when I consciously chose how to BE in each moment rather than allow an old program to run unchecked.  

I paid the extra postage and the company reimbursed me.

I am now looking at the bracelet and smiling.  I feel peaceful, centered, and calm remembering the instant I chose to change my spots.

 ”Every time you are tempted to react in the same old way, ask if you want to be a prisoner of the past or a pioneer of the future” ~ Deepak Chopra

Courtni ~ The Soul Muse

A Guided Life

Years ago my ex-husband and I built a new home.  Our yard needed a block wall.  Our neighbor was putting up a block wall and my ex thought it would be great to have the same guy build our wall.  I met the guy and immediately had reservations.  I told my ex not to use him.  I had no logical reason but my gut would tighten in his presence and I did not trust him.  My ex is a logical man – Military Intelligence – so intelligence won out over intuition costing us a couple thousand when the man used the money to buy blocks to finish our neighbor’s wall then disappeared.  

You know that feeling you get when you know something is off but you can’t put a finger on it?  Yeah…that feeling.  To others things might look perfect on the outside but you just know….it’s.  just. not. right.

Last week I had such a feeling.  I was outside pruning the Bougainvillea from the harsh effects of Phoenix’s last freeze (yes, way overdue) when a truck pulled up.  The driver stuck his head out of the vehicle and offered to trim the bushes and trees in my front yard for $40.  I walked over to the truck and he then repeated his offer but stated $50.

“You said $40,” I smiled.

He laughed self-consciously and said “Yeah, $40.”

The back yard was in need of  major work so I led him and his buddy back there and requested a quote.  They deliberated for few minutes in a foreign language then he (the driver) described in detail the hard work he would have to do so he quoted me a price of $200 total.  BUT if I acted NOW he would do it for $150! Operators were standing by!

Since I was not the one who was paying I didn’t mind the price but something did not feel right.  So I dismissed them with the promise “I’ll call you.”   I never did.  I called another company for a quote and a very professional sounding guy showed up, looked around, and took  photos of the yard but never sent me the email quote he promised. 

Today I got called off from work which was a total blessing as I was able to sleep in for a couple extra hours.  The next door neighbor’s little girl graduated high school and she had a party last night complete with a DJ and people yakking it up until the wee hours of the morning.  It sounded like she invited her entire school AND instructed the DJ to place his speakers directly under my window.  If I had not planned on going to work I would have been over here rocking to the window-shaking beats!  But I digress…With the party going on I didn’t sleep well.  While drinking coffee this morning I surveyed the wilderness of my back yard and, after sighing at the impossibility of it all, began pulling weeds around the flagstone courtyard. 

A high buzzing noise got my attention and annoyed the crap out of me.  The house shaking last night apparently was not enough noise for the neighborhood.  Another neighbor was at it early in the frikken morning.  (Note to self: get some ear plugs!) Out of curiosity I peeked over the wall.  My neighbor’s back yard looked nothing like mine.  2 guys were just finishing up cleaning his yard – the noise I heard was a blower.  The yard looked so good I jumped in my truck, drove down the street, met the landscapers, and invited them up for a quote. 

Juan gave me a quote within seconds.  A shrewd business man, he stated “$100 for first time then $60 when we come back 4-6 weeks.”

He felt soft and kind –  so different from the first guy who quoted me twice as much.   I thought he and his partner would return to do the job in “la mañana” as it was getting quite warm but they got down to business then and there.  Damn!  Within a few hours I no longer lived in a jungle. 

I paid Juan a hefty 25% tip because he did such an awesome job and because I was so happy that I listened to my guidance and did not use Senor “Act now!”    I have a feeling that Senor “Act now!” would not have done a great job.  I have absolutely no way to prove that but he just felt smarmy. At this stage of my life I no longer have any desire to make mistakes in order to learn from them and NOT listening to guidance is a huge mistake.

In gratitude for guidance showing up in the little things…

Courtni ~ The Soul Muse