Like a leaf floating on a breeze, life can seem hollow and out of control without a purpose to connect you with your true life force.
I understand everybody has days when they feel lost in their own skin, when they wonder who they are and what they’re doing here. I know I have.
Truth be told, I’ve had a lot of those days despite being, for the most part anyway, happy with my life. I seemed to have it all … at least from the outside. But I couldn’t shake this nagging feeling there was more. More to do. More to see. More to be! I tried lots of new vocations and hobbies, even went back to school for a degree. But each time it felt like I was coming up short of some sort of destiny. Nothing felt right. I was looking for a fit akin to a sexy go-to pair of jeans but was drowning in the proverbial frumpy moo moo.
Before I wasted a moment more on another degree for my wall, I decided to consult an intuitive healer. I have been intrigued by psychic abilities, soul purposes, reincarnation, and other metaphysical concepts since I knew they existed, so this wasn’t a stretch for me. But I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I told myself it was for my curiosity, perhaps even entertainment. I told myself I didn’t expect much.
I did.
Before the appointment, I was such a nervous wreck that you may have thought I were preparing for the Inquisition. I was anxious to hear what my intuitive healer would say. Was a previously diagnosed and persistent thyroid issue at the root of this funk? Had I been pursuing the wrong life purpose all along? Or was I just plain crazy?
Just tell me, I thought, fully expecting the diagnosis of crazy.
For an hour and a half, my healer, who says she developed this ability following a near-death experience, served as translator between me (my conscious mind) and my soul. She told me things about myself I knew to be true, which served as evidence that she was the real deal, and some that I wasn’t aware of. She even gave me insight into relationships with the people I love. She blew my mind, though, when she relayed to me my soul’s purpose.
Following that appointment, my mind was whirring with words like healer, medium, intuitive, and psychic. I bounced them around, tried them on for size like a pair of pumps, and tried to make sense of it all.
Am I really psychic? I wondered. I mean, come on, if a person were psychic wouldn’t they know about it long before the age of 37? By the very definition of the word psychic, I should have seen this coming, right? It seemed like a long shot, although an intoxicatingly exhilarating long shot.
So I took a deep breath and tried to shake off the disbelief. Whoa, I thought, trying to regain some semblance of focus. Now what?
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