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The walk is lovely for the variety of scenery: I walk past seasonal gardens in various states of bloom, a marina, and a small golf course. I quietly utter a respectful prayer by the Native American cemetery. I walk across a bridge built over a saltwater channel full of boats and fishing activity, seals and seabirds. I stroll through a forested park, usually stopping at a mural painted by local children, designed to stop the graffiti that used to live there. An industrial park is next, with large piles of house frames, huge trucks to haul the frames to unknown destinations, and the guy on the forklift who smiles and gives me a thumbs-up while swerving to avoid me as he zooms around the yard. Then comes the downtown of a charming tourist village, waving at people opening up their shops, and watching delivery folks unload crates of food for the restaurants. Next I pop into the post office to see if there are any checks in the mail; there’s lots of greeting activity there: small town gossip, and all the news not fit to print. Finally, I pass an art museum and a coffee shop and go up to the second story of an old farm water tower turned into an espresso stand at street level, with a crazy shaman lady on top. That’s me. It’s a nice walk, as I say, and I enjoy it for the peace it affords me between seeing clients and being a domestic shaman — otherwise known as a mom. When I don’t have time to walk to and from work, I take the car, and on those days I always feel a bit cheated somehow. My legs act up in their restlessness, and my head isn’t quite as clear, so I try to walk this walk as often as I can. Today was another day of walking in, and nothing very extraordinary happened. There were the usual pickup trucks passing, with wagging, barking, tongues-hanging-out doggies in the back. There were friendly waves from people in cars; this is a small town, after all. There were sea birds screeching, and an eagle screech in the park as I traveled by the mural. An eagle screech always gets my attention somehow, waking me up, inspiring me. I don’t even have to see the bird; the screech is enough. I like to be aware of what I was thinking when an eagle calls. Was there something I was working on: a problem, a new chapter in a book I’m writing, some insight about my life? Usually an eagle screech is a sign to pay attention, and today was no different. This morning I had been pondering the previous year, the first of the new millennium. I had been reviewing what the year had been for me and how I was faring now that spring had sprung; I was well into the new energy of a new year. 2001 started out optimistically enough. Business was busy; I had some new venues for speaking engagements on my calendar. My home life was cooking along, although I wasn’t with my two sons and husband as much as I wanted to be. My health seemed all right; I was tired from all the busyness, and I noticed that I had developed small aches and pains here and there, but I ignored them. The voice of Spirit came to call one day early in that year in the form of a request, heard in my mind: "Take some time off, Elke. A sabbatical would be very good for you and your life right now. You have some things to consider, some issues to heal, plus some new information coming through. Take time off. You won’t be sorry." Well, I was just too darn busy doing important stuff to actually listen to the Voice. "Um, sorry, I’ll get back to you later when I’m not doing such important things like saving the world and being a breadwinner." Yet the Voice was patient, waited a bit, and tried again. "Elke, you need time off to recharge and get clear. Take some time now to ponder, to write that new book, to heal. You won’t be sorry." "Sorry!" I exclaimed with ego-driven, self-absorbed arrogance. "I’m not sorry now, nor will I be. I’m just too busy. Maybe we’ll do lunch sometime?" And then the pains began: slow, burning ones on the right side of my abdomen. I didn’t slow down, but I did see a doctor eventually. Inconclusive ultrasounds and vague diagnoses followed. I visited medical intuitives; one saw the beginnings of cancer, another said I definitely had cancer, yet another saw old scar tissue. I didn’t pay much attention to any of them, and I kept going. I started to cancel appointments because the pain increased. Spirit gently asked, "Now will you slow down and take time off? Why bother to make appointments when you can’t keep them all?" "No, no, no. I need to be working. How else will the mortgage be paid? And what about my clients? I can’t just drop them. They need me! " I was practically shrieking on that last point. I was scared about the pain and the various diagnoses, but even more scared to stop. What if my clients never return? How will the bills be paid on just my husband’s small income? What do you want from me? Write another book? The first one didn’t go very far. What a waste of time! Leave me alone. With all the resistance I was putting up, no one in my life got very much attention: not my husband nor my children, not my clients, not my friends, and certainly, I admit it, not me. I was not attending to what was so. I was missing in action and of no good to anyone. Finally in July, I said, "All right. You win. I’ll take some time off next month. Let me set it up, and I will really, really try." In August, I managed to clear most of my calendar. Except for one speaking engagement I couldn't get out of, I called off all appointments. I even asked the place that sponsored my speaking engagement not to schedule any counseling appointments or readings for me on the day of my lecture as they normally would have. The day before the lecture, I called to confirm that I’d be showing up that evening to speak. The person on the phone informed me that I actually had a full day booked before the lecture. When I heard that, I gulped. I knew I had a choice to make: I could honor my commitment to myself and point out that this was their problem — I had called well in advance to cancel — or I could grudgingly show up for the appointments. I showed up early the next day and worked straight through to my appointed lecture time. I had a cookie to eat as my pre-lecture dinner. The lecture topic was something about healing being an inside job. I love giving talks, so I didn’t notice my grumbling tummy or my cloudy head until afterward. Noting my fatigue, some people invited me out to eat. I accepted their offer, telling them I had an errand to run first. The rest of the evening is a complete blur. While I tried to run my errand, I was stalked and physically attacked by someone that had been in the lecture audience. It was terrifying and painful, but the details need not be mentioned here. I was in tremendous shock afterward, yet I managed to get in my car and drive to a nearby hospital. I couldn’t get out of the car to go in. I wanted to run away, and that’s just what I did. I zoomed down a highway, up and over a mountain pass. I was going to keep going until I’d run out of gas. I finally stopped at a rest stop and pondered my life. I felt broken and completely useless. I couldn't go back to my life now, could I? What if my attacker was still stalking me? What if he followed me home? Would my family be in danger? My life was ruined; I just knew it. But then I also knew that I had the signs shown to me all along. I was to stop my busyness and take time off. I didn’t do that. Now, I would be forced to. I drove home, and in the early morning hours faced my new life. The rest of the year was all about healing. I had successful surgery on the painful area. I recommitted to being home with my family. I rested. I broke down. I gave up everything, not knowing what, if anything, would show up for me again. I remember thinking, I’m never going out there again. It’s too dangerous. What if I get killed next time? During my sabbatical, I’d often walk to my office, a haven of peace for me. I meditated there, wrote a little bit. I reconsidered. I love what I do; perhaps I could do it in a more balanced way. Would Spirit approve? Would Spirit protect me? I wondered and healed and spent time with my family. I did some volunteer work in my community. I kept taking walks to my tower, listening for an occasional eagle screech. Now, today, I’m writing this between appointments. I’ve given a couple of lectures in this new year. I teach classes on healing: true, grounded healing that comes from being present for everyday challenges. I see clients now and again. And I drive my boys to their sports activities, help with their homework, listen to their chatter in the back of the van about girls, school, bikes, videogames, life. I recommitted to my relationship with my husband. I found my life again. I took a walk today — my favorite walk. I saw how far I had come. I saw that I still have my moments of utter and complete meltdown as I heal from the shock of last year. I noticed that I worry about the world situation. I fret a bit about bringing up my boys in this crazy world. And I noticed an eagle screech. When an eagle screeches, I always look up to see if I can find it. I looked up today and saw trees and a bit of gray cloudcover. And I saw — I really did — Spirit smiling. "You won’t be sorry, dear one. Never again." Elke Siller Macartney is an inspirational speaker and healer living in LaConner, Washington. For information on Elke and her work, visit <http://www.auralady.com/> or write <elke@auralady.com>. |
For a couple of
years now, I've walked two and a half miles from my house in
a woodsy neighborhood to my office in the center of my little
town.