I had a dream that I was standing at my bedroom window staring out at the calm ocean. The ocean became choppy with tight little rocking waves. Those waves became larger and more spread out, and soon the entire shoreline became bare and dry as the water retreated completely. And then huge white waves would crash back into the land. These rolling waves became bigger and violent as they swallowed the homes on the hill below my house. I stood there in wonder but I wasn’t afraid. I watched the waves reach my window with a thundering sound as it crashed against the glass. And, as suddenly as the sea came, I watched through the salt it left behind on the window as it slowly returned back to its glassy smooth surface in the distance.
I’m an Intuitive Medium. Because I work between life and death everyday, I truly understand how short life is. We’re born, we work to live and live to work, and then we die. My sessions help my clients find their true path in this life with the help of their loved ones on the other side.
Having no regrets is a huge theme in my sessions.
Considering that I spend my time helping people reach their higher purpose, this year I decided that it’s time to take my own advice and do the same.
I’m in the process of starting fresh and beginning a new life with my husband and two young kids. As I write this, we’re in the process of selling everything we own to move onto a sailboat and circumnavigate the world.
My husband and I have always loved to sail. Being out on the open water always feels so freeing, and my absolute favorite part of sailing is that moment when–– after motoring out of the marina and it’s hectic and chaotic trying to pull the sails up and they’re flapping around in the wind and the sound of the motor is vibrating into your brain–– you cut the engine.
You hear every crinkle of the sails and the water splashing against the boat as you slice through it, you smell the salty air, the sunshine, the wind. There, in the quiet that exists only when you remove every artificial noise possible, it’s just you; and the power of Mother Nature.
As I heed my own advice, I’m reminded of how important it is to our intuition to feel this force of nature that’s bigger than ourselves. It’s exactly like being out at sea, adrift and able to feel the wind shifting on your skin and simply knowing which direction you’re heading next. That knowing allows us to adjust our sails appropriately; you feel where you’re meant to go.
If you fight it, and attempt to arrive somewhere that the wind isn’t directing you, you have to zigzag to get there, it’s a lot of work, and you’ll probably end up somewhere else anyway.
If you just listened, you’ll end up exactly where you are meant to be.
So I listened. We listened, and we decided to let go, to turn off the motor. We’re letting go of the concept of the “normal life” we’re “supposed” to live, and we are letting go of all the things that society says we should own.
Sometimes it feels liberating.
Sometimes it feels absolutely terrifying.
I have fears. Fear of the unknown, fear of not succeeding, fear of not having money to sustain our nomadic lifestyle, fear of what people think of us, fear of failure, and especially fear that we are going to “screw up” our children.
But then we think about how amazing this unusual life will be for them.
We want our kids to be citizens of the world, and by changing our lives this way, we’re giving them that. We also want to connect and grow closer, and we’re excited to be spending real time as a family every single day as we sail, to really know each other in a way we never would living on land. Connect with each other as we connect with the sea. And, yes, we can’t predict that everything will turn out the way we plan, or hope, or that we’ll be able to avoid our fears coming true. But that’s part of the power of this move–– it’s one based in trust. It’s putting faith in ourselves. It’s the decision to change our sails because the wind of our souls changed direction.
It’s our choice now to go with the flow and not fight it.
To have no regrets of unsailed seas.
To find our home amid those glassy, choppy, uncertain waters.