Life Choices: Trusting our Instinct

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I had a marvellous conversation with a friend yesterday who challenged me to believe that rather than questioning decisions I had made in the past, to rather trust the inner knowing that came through. Like really trust the primal gut instinct that we have when we blurt something out without doing all the research or knowing why we choose it. I mean BIG decisions about BIG things in my past that I wasn't regretting, but perhaps thinking to myself that if I had known more, I may have chose a different option.

I know, simple concept to just trust in the fact that you took right action at the time, but it profoundly shifts everything.

Today as I sit up on the mountain at Big White, with snow drizzling down, sky high snow banks surrounding me, my morning cup of coffee sitting steaming hot in front of me, I have the kind of chuckle that starts with a little "ha" and turns into full out belly laughter. Sometimes I shake my head in beautiful disbelief at my life choices, like "what am I doing here?!" In the best possible way, this is one of those choices where you know the dots will connect looking backwards, but looking forwards, they get lost in the blizzard howling outside my cabin at the moment. Was it really just yesterday that I was meditating in the forest with sunshine streaming through the trees? 

To boot, I dropped my phone in the toilet over Easter, so I haven't had a phone in a week. It's extremely beautiful to go phone-less. I am loving every second of that, except it doesn't get lost on me that perhaps being up here, it might be good to have a way to reach people that doesn't involve putting blind trust in the Internet. As sirens bellowed out into the air this morning (anyone have news on what those were?) I just have to surrender.

Trust.

And more surrender.

The thing is, I K-N-0-W I'm meant to be here.

So I take a step back, as the observer of this amazing life, and laugh at my life choices. Humour is good at times like these.

A little whisper keeps saying to me, "There is something for you here." 

And I believe it.

So snow or no snow, I feel home.