Seek and you shall not find. I always think I got this one, but somehow I never quite learn. For a while now I’ve been on a quest to find a unicorn. I know there lives one deep in the forest somewhere, so I went down there everyday and did everything I could possibly think of. I sat down on the grass and quietly read my book, making sure not to make any sudden movements. I looked behind every tree. Chased every butterfly and rainbow. Tried to squint my eyes hard enough so that a white deer looked like it might(?) have an almost invisible horn. None of these things worked, of course, but I was having the most wonderful time wandering around this beautiful place and meeting the most amazing creatures. Until one day, having forgotten all about my quest and just dancing around joyfully with my woodland friends… a unicorn magically appeared. I couldn’t tell you where he had come from, he was just there in front of me, moving his little feet and inviting me to dance with him.
Things change. Something that used to work perfectly for you, suddenly doesn’t anymore. For a while you keep thinking: if we could just get back to the way it was… But there comes a point where you have to surrender and accept it. To cut the dead wood and trust the magic of new beginnings. Case in point, I’ve made the decision to leave my (very steady) temp job. I used to love having to go into town every afternoon, but lately it’s draining my creative energy. It wasn’t until I was started reading The Magical Approach by Jane Roberts that I understood why. The book explains that creative time follows the rhythms of the earth, the seasons and tides of nature. But our society is based on production time, you know, nine-to-five-assembly-line time. It is based on the principle that each minute is valuable and most be devoted to work. But, as the book reminded me, relaxation is the champion of creativity – not its enemy. For inspiration you need empty time, where time is allowed to flow.
It’s a quiet summer evening. Raindrops are falling from the grey sky, there’s some light thunder in the background. A pigeon sits on a branch just outside my balcony, slightly hunched. In the distance I can see the lights of my neighbours garden. I’ve been given oceans of time just to sit, rest and dream. A few days ago I had an accident – a single unguarded moment and I fell down. The same way as I did exactly five years ago. When it happened, my first thought was: ‘not again!’ Last time my rehabilitation took almost six months. But so many things are different now. My life is so much richer, filled with the positive energy of beautiful people and animal friends. I’ve picked up new skills along the way, like the basics of first aid and where to get crutches. I’ve learned about healing trauma, how to follow the rhythm of my own body, the foods that nurture you, which herbs quicken the healing process, and about the magic power of touch. I’ve learned how to stop striving, always wanting to arrive in another place than where you are right now. Most importantly I’ve learned not to despair, but to trust in myself and the universe.
As a child I was very intuitive. I instintictively knew things, and often had premonitions. But growing up my intuition got drowned out by other voices. Being an analytic philosopher didn’t help. Because I couldn’t frame any of it in logical terms, I didn’t know how to explain it. My inner voice was still there, telling me things, but I no longer listened to it. Einstein once said: “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” I was a living example of that. But last year I read the beautiful book A Still, Small Voice by Echo Bodine. Once I embraced my inner voice, it became louder. Sometimes it’s so loud that I find myself shouting back: “I hear you, I hear you!” I guess it wants to make sure I never ignore it again. Now that I’m learning to trust my intuition, life is much simpler. Things just happen without effort. Not only did it guide me to the sweetest creature, I found a new home within two days. For the first time in my life I no longer seek advice from others to make decisions. Why would I? I have my own inner wisdom.
Diary of a wounded squirrel
In The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle Hugh Lofting tells how 9-year-old Tommy Stubbins met Doctor Dolittle. It all started when Tommy came across a hawk on a rock with a squirrel in his claws. The hawk is so startled that he drops the squirrel and flies off. When Tommy picks the squirrel up, he sees that the squirrelâ€™s legs are badly hurt. He carries the squirrel to Puddleby-on-the-Marsh to find someone who can help. His friends advise him to go see the famous animal doctor, John Dolittle, who has the extraordinary gift of speaking the animals’ language. Doctor Dolittle is away on a voyage, so Tommy has to wait for the doctor’s return. When he finally meets Doctor Dolittle, they visit Tommy’s home to take a look at the squirrel. After having talked to the squirrel, Doctor Dolittle ties the broken leg up with matchsticks and prescribes two weeks of bed rest under dry leaves, which is difficult for squirrels as they are very active and cheerful creatures. I am the squirrel and this is my diary.