Yes. It’s one of those stories. A miracle tale. Involving God, Jesus, and the lot. Mhmm. Absolutely. So, if rainbows and unicorns and ‘mushy’ talk is not your cup of tea I suggest you skip this one.
~
Valencia city, May 2017
Doubt! BAM! God damn it! Why now?
Absolute immobilizing fear! Why does doubt have that horrendous paralyzing effect on one’s being?
Earlier this month I woke up in the middle of the night. It was pitch black. New bed, new room, new Airbnb apartment. I had just started my period, five days premature. “Oh please, don’t let there be blood in the sheets and the mattress!” I desperately wished in silence. Sleep drunk I somehow managed to stumble out of bed without waking up my boyfriend and navigate my way through the darkness, holding my crotch with one hand, trying not to make a bloody mess and a trail. I reached the door and traced the carved old wood with my free hand and found the handle. I loved how ‘Spanish’ it felt and remembered how impressed I had been the day before when I had seen those two narrow, yet heavenly tall wooden bedroom doors in the otherwise not-so-nice and run-down Valencia apartment. It was a stand-in for three nights, until the apartment we had been renting for the last thirty days, would be free again. This substitute one was a bit shabby, but the amazing height of the ceiling, windows, and curtains had reminded me of scenes from movies set in the early 19th Century, and “these tall winged bedroom doors are actually quite charming” I had thought to myself when we received the keys.
I quietly turned the handle and made a small gap between the two doors. Then slid through to the other side. The air was lighter there, yet thick from the absence of light. The bathroom was only a few meters across the tiny kitchen slash sofa area I had just entered. I searched my memory for the location of the bathroom switch. Found it! The sudden flash of blue-ish white light felt cruel and ruthless. With squinted, sleepy eyes I charged for the toilet, making an effort not to look in the mirror in case the reflection of a half-human, half-owl changeling would startle me and pull me even deeper into that night’s dark psychological abyss.
Oh, what a moment. A toilet moment. Sitting there on the white ceramic seat, staring at the rugged beige and blue shower towel hanging lifeless in front of me as my eyes adjusted to the light, I wondered how many aha moments, mental breakdowns, and magical breakthroughs washrooms around the world had witnessed. I guessed it was the solitude. The absence of noise, of stimulus, of ‘Others’. Other people’s energies, opinions, wants, and needs. And our business in bathrooms makes us so utterly human.
A big sigh. I didn’t feel good. So vulnerable. Yes, so utterly vulnerable, so utterly human. A lonely tear started its journey down my cheek. Was it only my hormones? Oh god. Well, if it was, they for sure hit a soft spot. Maybe even revealing hidden emotions. Emotions that longed to come out and be expressed. Thank god for hormones then, because it sure felt I needed the cry.
And cry I did.
I just felt so powerless. So ridiculous. A wannabe entrepreneur. Who was I kidding? I didn’t have the means, I didn’t have the skills. I didn’t have the nerves. I didn’t have the stealth. I felt the gigantic hammer of doubt hovering over my head threatening to squash me with one big massive stroke. The fear was so overwhelming. Absolutely immobilizing. “Maybe I’m just too much of a goody-goody-girl, a Goody Two Shoes kind of a person to make all this work. Too soft to be in business” I thought. My mind drifted to the old days when I had been working in the clothes stores at the turn of the century. Wrapped in a soft glow of happy old days I remembered how nice it had been to service customers, talk to them, smile and laugh with them, and wish them nice days ahead as they turned from the cashier and walked through the security gates bag in hand.
But that was bullshit too. Some days had been nice, and many had been rewarding, absolutely. But other days had been really awful! Back then I had also experienced moments like the one I was having right there in that strange little apartment in Spain. Me sitting on a toilet seat, crying. Well in those days it had been more like sobbing, trying not to smear my make-up. Exercising as much self-control as I could muster at that time. Jesus. Toilet scenes. Has anyone made a short movie, or written a book about that? I seriously think it could be a bestseller. ‘Toilet Tales’. Anyone up for the challenge?
In the stores, it had been me shedding a tear or two about not knowing what I wanted out of life. What I wanted to become. Feeling as my seed of potential was drying out inside a glass cubicle, inside a square store in a square mall.
‘Drying out’! Oh God! Gushes of tears had started rolling again and I was back in that old bleak bathroom in Valencia. Drying out! That was also ‘it’. Trying to make my dreams come true for all those years had meant deep sacrifices. The deepest sacrifice there is if you are a woman entrepreneur. Children. For some, not for all of course. But now I felt I was for sure drying out.
My prime physical time for childbearing had passed. But in my soul, I knew that if it was to be it would be, and yes, I saw myself become a mother, had visions of myself cuddling babies, taking care of young ones becoming older ones. But were they future visions, or were they memories of distant pasts perhaps? From old lives of mine. Gosh, I had been a mother to so many children throughout my different lifetimes. I could still sense their energy, the sweet scent of their hair, remember their little hands burrowed into mine. But in this life, time was ticking. I had just turned 38 in April. On Good Friday. When Jesus was crucified.
So yes, the days in the stores had not been all good, but at least I had received my paychecks on the first of each month. Ohhh what a sweet distant memory. Regular paychecks. Knowing you would always have enough for your bills and expenditures. Some extra to put aside or just to splash on something!!
To have all these beautiful dreams and visions of transformational mind-body-spirit projects burning in my heart for years has abolished such fine things as regular paychecks from my life. Furthermore, carrying that beast of a dream of establishing the first Icelandic spiritual travel agency, and an online global spiritual travel community in my stomach, constantly tucking, tucking on every fiber of my being, has eradicated any normalcy from my everyday life as well.
So there I was, hanging on a thread. Almost like that faded beige and blue shower towel in front of me. Hanging there, clean, but torn and scruffy. Washed out.
The cry had helped me some. My mind was a tiny bit clearer, though it was also quite numb (strange). But I felt calmer. Emotional release. So good. Without realizing it, I had made myself comfortable on the floor, I had closed my eyes and I had started praying. I prayed that my actions as an entrepreneur had not been in vain. I prayed for help. I literally asked God and my angels for support. That I couldn't do this alone. I prayed for something tangible, as I have been riding on my trust in the divine for so long, on spirit fumes. I asked for the courage to keep on. “Together, co-creating for the Greater Good. May it be so” I prayed. “Please show me the way. Please, if this is correct, if this is how I can best serve the Greater Whole, please help me now. I need more support. I’m almost giving up! I don’t know if I can do this any longer. Please give me strength” I prayed.
It was good to go to sleep again. It had been such an emotional night.
The next day I was sitting at a cute café in a beautiful neighborhood here in Valencia. I decided to go easy on myself that day. To just keep it all very light and breezy. I had left the apartment with the intention to go to that exact café, as I had walked past it a few days earlier, and the memory of its cozy interior and warm atmosphere had felt comforting to me when I woke up - The smallness of the space yet with its big windows and high ceilings. The round wooden tables and comfy chairs with their multicolored cushions. The leafy greens, the droopy plants hanging from each shelf, which were also stacked with old-looking books, faded black, emerald green, and burgundy colored spines with gold embossed lettering. The scent of freshly baked goodies and coffee in the air. Heart-warming, right? So in the morning, I walked to that part of town which just happens to be a bit cleaner, a bit neater, and yes, a bit more expensive than our neighborhood, Ruzafa.
Well, I ordered some coffee and water, but the waiter brought me a big bottle of Coke with my croissant. I never actually order Coke, so I thought about returning it. But then I wondered “The angels are just giving me some sweet tender love and care this morning ~ Cheering me up a bit”, so I didn’t return it. Then, guess what happened? Just a few minutes later I get a ping on my phone. A new email. I opened it, and voilá! “Congratulations, you just received a grant!” O, My God! Yay!! Finally, a seed I had planted a few months earlier, a grant application I had put a lot of effort into, bore fruit!
I found it so cute that the angels had bought me a coke to cheer me up ;)
Just a few minutes after I snapped the photo I received the e-mail
There I was, holding my angel-cola, sugar rushing through my veins, and I just couldn’t believe it! This was so big. I, who had just been on my knees, literally, the night before, asking God for help, had just received a grant! Financial aid. What a sign to keep going! This was real, tangible support. A recognition of some sort. Like my efforts had been noticed. I know, it sounds childish, egocentric even.. delusional at worst. Like we get awarded for “good” deeds. So what then? Do we get punished for “not so good deeds”? By whom?
So yes, I know this sounds ridiculous. But I don’t care. I had been feeling devastated by doubt. Crushed. Crushed by life. Just the night before. Like everything I had been doing for years, which nota bene, I felt I had been doing for the benefit of the greater whole, was first of all not working at all, like “they” or someone “up there” had chosen the wrong person for the job (Yes, I know this is starting to sound even more crazy and self-important by the minute) and secondly, that entrepreneurship was simply ruining my life.
No one who hasn’t been on the very strange road of having convinced oneself of being on a special mission for Life, or for the Greater Good of Mankind, knows the excruciating pain of waking up one day and realizing that all the massive effort toward accomplishing the mission has been in vain. That all along you just weren’t the right person for the job! And not only that but whilst trying to make it all work as the wrong person, your personal life was pouring down the drain. You wake up and realize you’ve missed the train to “Normalville” - that sweet down-to-earth realm of children, regular jobs, and friends.
I know, all this sounds so weird. Like an energy pendulum swinging ferociously between the crazy-as-bat “Hey look at me, I’m on a special mission for God” and “Boohoo, poor me, I’m so victimized by Life”. Jeez, talking about being entangled in the web of human illusion.
But hey, what can I say? We live and we learn, right!
So, I'm extremely happy about the grant! It isn’t such a big one, but it’s good for sustaining me, for a few lean months at least. But what a blessing! I’m so grateful. I feel I’ve received Life’s big Thumbs Up to keep going!
So here it goes, co-creation with Love!
Good luck to us all ♡
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