following your gut

Be Who You Were Created to Be

~ Solo Chick Traveler ~ Leave a comment

Holy macaroni! I had my first coaching session yesterday–and I was the coach! I’ve been taking free webinars lately all about online marketing, social media marketing, branding and biz building. But you know how she found me? Not through any of that stuff. She found me simply by me being me.

More and more I step into my purpose, spiritually and verbally, and with each action there’s a counter action. It’s like playing Candyland. And in the days prior to this appointment, I was in the Molasses Swamp. My laptop was resisting everything I was trying to do and Apple Support was uncharacteristically, extremely non-supportive. 

Times like these make me think of archery–the arrow gets pulled backwards before launching forward. Most of my best moments, maybe all if I sat and really thought about it, have happened this way. 

During the maiden voyage of my first camper, it started on fire. Being fired lead to me going on a 30-day spiritual retreat that ended up lasting twelve years and completely changed not only my life, but myself. And getting diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease gave me the gift of needing to access the power of the mind-body connection.  

I haven’t talked much here about the book I’m writing Gut Instincts: How To Get Off the Medical Merry-Go-Round and Have a Self-Induced Healing. I was diagnosed over thirty years ago, back when Crohn’s was weird and rare. No one I told had heard of it, much less had it. The book is about how I found my way through the wilderness and healed it. And the coaching business I’m building, Gut Instincts Coaching, is to help people find their answers by following their inner wisdom and guidance. 

My life has been calibrating around this purpose for a while now. And my mind has been spinning with all the ways to let the world know about it. Cutting through the mist like a laser, comes a text asking for a couple hours of my time to help with something someone is writing. 

She’s a new friend I’d met through a mutual friend who’d hired me as a writer for her business. I’m just so entertained by how it all works. Doing what I love–a reset afforded me by a pandemic that took away the work I was doing, hospitality, and gave me time with myself to hear what I really wanted to be doing, helping others–has lead to me doing more of what I love. 

Instead of fitting into various pay scales, I decided on what I was worth and defined my own minimum wage. I’m just starting out so it’s low, but it’ll grow. It always does. Once, as a daycare administrator, I took a center from having two empty classrooms when I was hired to having a waiting list two months later. My last job, playing pool games at resorts here in Key West, (think cruise director, but on land) started with three pools a week and it grew to fifteen. 

I’m not bragging. I’m reporting on what happens when I follow my gut. It never fails me. While the brain is busy thinking and figuring and weighing and analyzing, the gut knows and it broadcasts it like a beacon. In songs and serendipity, inklings and seemingly random encounters. In nudges and nuances. It’s a station you need to be tuned into–an already programmed preset. Just push. 

And the more we listen, the louder it gets. 

Thanks for celebrating this milestone with me. Leave a comment about a time this was true for you and I’ll celebrate with you, too!

“I was smart enough to go through any door that opened.” ~Joan Rivers

Following Directions

~ Solo Chick Traveler ~ 1 Comment

It wasn’t just that I was attracted to him. What with the thick, dark hair hitting his shoulders, one group of tendrils separating from the pack, twisting down along his temple. Or his beard with flecks of ginger glinting, also full, and above a black vintage Levi’s Strauss T-shirt taut across his chest. The calm, considerate way he listened reflected in his thoughtful nod and unwavering gaze. 

But I was, definitely, attracted.

But to more. The air of adventure rising off him, swirling around me and mixing with mine, forming a threesome with the smell of freshly frying fries. The pairing effect similar to the scent of just baked cookies wafting through a realtor’s Open House. I spotted it right away, his position by the only outlet in the dining room, his two backpacks and dirty fingernails. I know this move. This is my move. I’m a gypsy writer. And I’m always scoping for future places to plunk down, pop open my laptop, and write. 

My first words to him, full of curious exploration,“Is that the only outlet?”  

“Yeah…but, I have a double plug, if you want to share.” His answer further endears him to me. The misunderstanding makes me smile and his generosity restores my faith in humanity. 

I love people who share.  

They call my number and I excuse myself. I return to a booth not too far away. After reading and eating, I rise up to go and our eyes connect.

“I like your pants,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say. Because, with their rust-colored, complementary striped bell-bottom style, I like them, too. “I think they make me look like Donna from That 70s Show,” and that’s a good look. They’re one of those things you know you’ll get compliments on when you wear it. We all have them.  

“Where did you get ‘em?”

Really? Not only a follow-up question, but the same one I was asking myself as I pulled them on this morning. 

Thus begins two hours of talking about adventure and freedom and herbs and the island. About following one’s nose, and one’s calling. And biking the Sunshine-Skyway bridge (him, not me. And not even him, because the cops stopped him at the top). “I had a song all cued up for the long coast downhill.”

I liked how I felt in his presence–comfortable. The longer I was in it, the more comfortable I became. Our initial ease was growing into a warming glow.

He motioned to the other section of his booth, “You’re welcome to join me.”

Like a flower blooming, our conversation was, and I within our conversation. We spoke of where we were from (me Wisconsin, him Michigan), how to properly sleep in a hammock (diagonally), and how old versions are better than the new and improved (countless examples). I liked what was coming out of me. All my best stuff–my words, my perspective, my suggestions (he’d only been here a few weeks) . . . even my hair looked good, judging by its reflection in the big window framing winter’s early darkness.

I was into me, and I was really into how this had all come to be.

Single moments of the evening–seemingly weird and random at the time–were now showing themselves in one fluid movie in my mind. I’d stopped at a Free Little Library to drop off a book. It wasn’t even my regular one. And I have a strict rule of only dropping off, but as I slid mine in, a spine of another caught my eye with its fiery sunset colors and title Heaven and Hurricanes. 

Just the back cover, I think because, the rule, and because I was trying to get to the seven o’clock showing of the Whitney Houston movie and had dirty laundry in my back bike basket to wash on the way. But as all good back covers make you do, I was opening the cover and reading the prologue. And then I was tucking it between dirty sheets and detergent and taking off, pushing hard to make up time. 

Everyone at the laundromat was on their phone, while I leaned against a folding table and sunk into the superb writing and intriguing plot. As quarters dropped and clanked, an idea dropped into my mind: check the rating on Rotten Tomatoes. They persuaded me to wait and catch it streaming. With clean sheets, I rode off into the night now wide open, sans plans.

Except to read more of this book. 

And I was hungry. Nothing at the cafe next to the laundromat had really grabbed me. The tartar on a Filet-O-Fish does, as the golden arches come into view. Suddenly, I can think of nothing better than my feet up in a booth, reading and eating.

Rerouting. . . . .

~ Solo Chick Traveler ~ 3 Comments

I’ve come to think of the Holy Spirit as my life’s GPS. It’s got the map, it knows where we’re going. I, by contrast, am to wandering off and have a fondness for distractions and detours. The queen of wrong turns, I need never fear. Because just like Google Maps, if I get lost or turned around, the app will spin and say “Rerouting” until it displays a new blue marked path I can follow to get back on track.

I grew up learning about the Holy Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Ghost. I’ve long since traded religious dogma for spiritual laws; gone is the God I used to worship as something superior–I’ve found him on the interior now, in a deeper connection to my true self. The meaning behind a lot of the things I heard taught has changed, but the names remain the same.

HS is kind of my favorite. An energy that communicates through hunches and serendipities, gut instincts and nudges. If I listen to them, I’m living my best life and I’m happy. I’m still reeling from the latest one…..

In April I was all set to do what I’ve been doing for the past two years: taking my camper and kitty to a state park and workamping (working in exchange for a free site). It was time for my next assignment. After giving my boss notice, it didn’t sit right. I’d gotten this job playing games in swimming pools at resorts around Key West. It was listed as a “gig” in the job posting, which was perfect because I was only going to be at Fort Zachary Taylor State Park for a few more moths (there’s limits on how long you can stay at one park). Super fun job, great money, I biked between pools in my bikini and was done in time for happy hour.

The way I found the job was kind of magical. I was recovering from COVID, unemployment was ending, and I was aware I couldn’t go back to bartending; I was too weak. I felt I’d outgrown my old way of being and working during the shutdown. I wanted something new. I went to Facebook and came across a page on my feed I’d never seen before and haven’t seen since. It was “Key West Gigs & Short-Term Jobs.” Perfect! My site at the park was short-term, too.

Funny how we get into things and then they change. Interesting how my plans morph and change without me even knowing it, until I try to assert them and they fall apart.

The next day I took my notice back. I’d slept on it and woke up uneasy within it. Took it as a sign and followed it. And then she offered me a promotion. So now I’m Regional Manager and have found a lot that I pay for, have a lease for, an electric and water bill. Things I haven’t had for six years and thought I might never have, or want to have, again.

I trust this new direction because of all the other new directions I’ve taken that ended up being better than what I thought I wanted.