Guided

June 14, 2026

A flying angel with a great big heart.

She knows. My guide, my guardian angel, the universe, my larger self, my intuition, my body - whomever she is, she knows when I need to be reminded that I am being guided. Somewhere within, I know that I am always guided, but it really helps to see it clearly sometimes.

Big heart in the clouds.

Last week, even in the midst of the shoulder pain, I knew I was being led somewhere. I’ve embarked on this mission to form a deeper relationship with my body and to release years of stored tension that are at the root of all of my physical challenges. Things had been improving for several weeks until the shoulder seized up.

These beautiful golden trees are flowing.

I woke up in the middle of the night last weekend, and my neck was so tight I could hardly swallow. It scared me a little, wondering how bad it might be by morning. Then, the most amazing thing happened. My body began to gently tremor and shake.

Purple martin

I knew what it was doing, as I had watched a couple of videos on TRE (trauma releasing exercises) in preparation for learning it with my somatic coach this week. I knew it wasn’t dangerous. Perhaps because it was the middle of the night, I was more relaxed, and there was nothing else to do anyway, so I watched it happen with curiosity.

Turkey vultures also seem to be very curious. A few minutes after I took this, that branch broke! Luckily, my friend has wings, and no harm was done.

I felt the tremor move from my hips, into my spine, and up into my right shoulder. It would recede and come back. It stopped a few times, started again, and moved around my body. I’m not sure how long it went on, perhaps about 45 minutes. By the time it was done, about 90% of the tension in my body was gone. I fell into a deep sleep.

Feeling light, like a spotted sandpiper gliding in for a landing.

The next morning, I felt so much better than I had the night before. There was still some pain in my shoulder, especially when I swallowed, but it was pretty miraculous how much better it was. Some of the stiffness has returned, and over the course of the week, it has been up and down. More stiff, a bit more pain, more ease, and sometimes no soreness at all. Sometimes, my shoulder just tremors on its own when I am very relaxed and releases the new stiffness that has arrived.

Is any creature more curious than squirrels?

After that release, I started to experience what I call Godwinks - those moments of synchronicity when I almost can’t believe something happened. Most were small, like feeling I should go to the post office to mail a package, and just as I opened the garage door, the mailman pulled up and saved me a trip. Or having two completely unrelated people, one who didn’t know me at all, tell me about Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s theory of why time speeds up as we get older within an hour of each other.

My guide is like that friend up on the rock, always looking out for me. (yellow warblers)

Still, my guide must have known I needed a boost. Sometimes she likes to make the synchronicity so unbelievable that I can’t help but see how magical it is. She delivered a stunner this week!

She’s been playing with cloud formations during our rainy week. I mean, cloud monster with heart eyes is a good one!

On Sunday, walking slowly in my neighborhood before the rain, I found a bird I couldn’t identify. The bird was singing like crazy, but for some unknown reason, Merlin Bird ID completely failed to identify it. I eventually shared the pictures with some friends who are more expert than I am, and the consensus was that the bird was an immature painted bunting.

My adorable painted bunting friend.

That I found a new “life bird” (#238) in my own neighborhood, well after migration, isn’t even the stunner. On Tuesday, in much better light, I found the bird again, and this time Merlin agreed that it was a painted bunting. A painted bunting in my area is rare enough that it is flagged as “rare” by eBird and requires documentation. Later that day, I received a package. In the package, from a woman named Melissa I’ve never met or corresponded with before, was this note:

I read it multiple times to be sure I wasn’t imagining it! Did she really say “painted bunting” and “maybe you’ll spot one”? Did she really mail this before I saw this bird, so even if she knew me, she couldn’t have known about this bird? Yes and yes!

From this angle, you can see the colors that are trying to emerge on his wings, head, and tail.

The package was part of the “Hope-Mail exchange” Katie Hawkins-Gaar organized for her Substack (“My Sweet Dumb Brain”) patrons. Melissa and I were paired, and this package was from her. My guide had absolutely outdone herself! Of course, I sent a note back to Melissa to let her know she had delivered magic to my doorstep.

Has to be a male, as he just sings and sings.

This week, I’ve continued to try to keep up my turtle ways, doing things more slowly with more awareness of tension and breath. It’s easier to rush now that the pain doesn’t stop me, but I’ve had a taste of something different. I now notice the difference between rushing and taking my time. Rushing speeds up my brain, which then speeds up my body even more. Rushing feels tense. It feels like there’s not enough time. It feels - dangerous.

Rushing is cuckoo! Or at least this is a yellow-billed cuckoo.

Consciously slowing down feels luxurious. It feels more easeful and settled. It feels safe, even if my brain starts to say, “but what about…” or “but how will we get it all done?” My brain is not sure it trusts slow, but my body LOVES it.

Blue herons know how to do slow.

Rushing is a habit. Pushing, forcing, and trying to “make it happen” are all deeply ingrained in my way of being. Luckily, my superpower is persistence. After years of pain, digestive issues, and sleep challenges, feeling good is deeply motivating. I’ve tasted it now, there’s no going back.

The yellow-billed cuckoo doesn’t rush. One of the last summer birds to arrive, even its call is long and languid.

In case you are wondering, tremoring is a completely natural process. I’ve watched birds do it many times, especially ducks and shorebirds. If a predator flies over and scares up the flock of birds, they will screech and fly around for a while. When they come back, there is often a lot of shaking and trembling that occurs as they settle back in. They literally shake off the stress. My body knew the way; I just needed to know it was safe!

Shaking it off like a shorebird, a willet in this case. (Photo from April 2025)

I’m continuing to play with allowing myself to move and speak slowly, more from my center. One evening this week, I noticed how relaxed I was feeling, and I almost cried. I haven’t felt that sensation of being deeply relaxed since early 2019! I want to feel like this more often.

As relaxed as a catbird that is stuffed full of mulberries?

The point of this work isn’t to be calm all the time, no matter how much I wish that were possible. The point is to lower the baseline stress in my body and learn how to come back to that baseline when inevitable stressors happen. Now I know just how clearly my body is leading me. I imagine she’ll give me plenty of practice in just the ways I need, even if they aren’t always the ways I hope for.

Sing it loud friend! (great-crested flycatcher)

I’ve been writing about practicing trust, about wanting to be able to “trust always,” for five years now. Perhaps I’m getting closer.