More and more lately, I’ve experienced moments when my intuition speaks to me. You know that feeling, right? Sometimes it’s telling me that I’ve left something behind as I’m rushing out the door, late for work. Or that I’ve forgotten to turn off the burner (sorry, John, I know you hate it when I do that).

It’s regularly something mundane, uneventful, or routine in my everyday life.

No big deal, right?

Listen for Five Key Times To Go With Your Gut

Well, not so fast. I’m beginning to realize that those ordinary reminders are a sort of entry-level intuitive practice – a life pre-test, if you will, priming me for the big time.

Kind of like a warm up before a track meet. Or studying for a final exam.

I’ve had these intuitions my whole life, and I’ve spent a large chunk of time basically ignoring them. I would tell myself to stop worrying, that I really did lock the door or let the dog back inside the house. I’d chastise my anxiety-ridden side and shut down that little voice that was trying to help me out.

But there’s something about growing older and wiser that prompts me to stop and take notice to that tiny message gnawing in my ear, a bit of a call to attention on a Universal level.

And as I pause and consider the whispers, I’m realizing that it dives deep below the surface, offering me more than just a simple hint; I’m learning that the Universe is tipping its hand and showing me a clearer path. After recognizing the penultimate power of my inner voice, I’ve realized there are:

Five Key Times To Go With Your Gut:

1.  When choosing a major

By the time I settled into college and figured out what I was doing, my choice of a major was clear. I went with what I loved to do: read and write. I had no idea what an English major would offer me in terms of employment, but I did know that if I had any hope of completing college in a timely manner, I needed to be studying something that I was passionate about. My boyfriend (now husband) was equally ambiguous and settled on music as his course of study. One takeaway I have from our decision is the multiple conversations we would have with fellow undergrads who would exclaim with awe and a dose of jealousy that they too had wanted to be a music major, but their parents insisted on something more practical.  So while those computer studies students of the late eighties may in all likelihood be tech wizards and multimillionaires, I often wonder if they really satisfied their soul with their bank accounts.

2.  When your friends are making a choice you’re not certain about. 

Oh, to be thirteen again. Or nineteen. Or twenty-three. No thank you, really – watching my middle school students go through the most awkward phase of their lives is painful. Transitioning from childhood to teen is rife with struggle. Daily, my students are bombarded with choices about who to listen to, what to do and who to be. My own children, sixteen and nineteen, grapple with similar but different issues about studying and college and majors and where to live. One thing I’ve learned from listening to my gut is that when I feel uncomfortable with the choices in front of me, I should listen to my intuition. Excusing ourselves from situations, blaming our parents for having to leave a party or ask for a ride home is exactly what we should do when we know our friends are acting questionably. Chances are, they are tussling with the same dilemma and would appreciate you giving them an ‘out’.

3. When you’re choosing a life partner. 

I’ve been with my husband for just over thirty years – we met when we were teens and became instantly attached to each other. At nineteen, I had no idea that I would marry this delightful man – at least not for the first three months. But I remember a moment in September 1985 when my gut whispered in my ear and I announced that he was the one. Two kids later, he still is. “Choosing” isn’t really an accurate term – I believe that “recognizing” a life partner might be more accurate. With so many marriages falling into divorce after only a decade or so, recognizing the person in front of you as the one to have by your side on life’s journey is one crucial time to go with your gut.

4. When life gets hard.

Thirty years ago when J and I started our journey together I couldn’t have fathomed the bumps -ok, the moments-when-I-felt-life-was-hammering-me-with-devastation. At 50, I’ve experienced the blessings of life as well as the challenges and am learning to go with my gut when I don’t know where else to turn. I’m learning not to think so much, not to give in to the paralysis of getting stuck in my head. Instead, I’m trusting to just take a plunge, hold back, or say no. My intuition knows what it is doing.

5. When you think you’ve left the teakettle on. 

Yes, this is a perfect time to go with your gut because it in these ordinary, extraordinary moments that we are our best students. If we ignore the little message the Universe sends us every day, how can we train ourselves to trust the mightier directives that come our way? The next time you wonder if you left your shopping bags in the back seat, or if you forgot to turn the water off in your roses, just take a breath, listen to your gut, and say a little ‘thank you’ to the Universe for showing you the way.

When was the last time you listened to your gut? What did it tell you?

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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The other night I sat at our dining room table, across from my daughter and her forever friend, A. It was late, and everyone else in the house had long since gone to sleep. As tired as I was, I couldn’t pull myself away from the moment – the chance to look across at them, remembering their fourth-grade sleepover faces and times before life threw boys and jobs and college and adulthood in their path.

I could see it in their eyes. They’re feeling the insidious creep of growing up, the heaviness of choices that at times seem overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.

I wasn’t exactly sure how much to say. I didn’t want to sound preachy or teacher-like. They both passed my 8th grade English class long ago.

So I listened. I hesitated, I looked in their eyes as they shared their fears and hopes, and finally, I took a breath and broke in.

Life isn’t always a straight path ahead.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” I said, pushing my glasses to the top of my head. “It takes guts to listen to your heart. It takes a lot of courage to admit that the path you’re on isn’t the path that you want – that where you thought you wanted to go when you were 17 might not be the destination you want to head in right now. And that’s ok.”

They both looked down and back up at me. “Thanks, mamawolfe,” A. replied. I couldn’t tell if she was going to smile or cry.

“Life isn’t always a straight path. In fact, for most of the people I know, life was a curvy, squiggly, up and down and all around kind of a journey – especially in college. The idea that someone could know enough about themselves to make a decision about their future when they’re only 17 is crazy – you should know that decisions can be changed, courses can be altered, and if you listen to your gut and trust the journey, everything will work itself out.” My words hung there for a minute until the corners of their mouths started to turn up, their eyes met mine, and by the end, the three of us had exhaled.

I watched as they hugged and whispered goodbye, promised to see each other soon and that they would miss each other.

The only thing you shouldn’t miss

Later that night, after I’d tucked my girl in and kissed her goodnight, I was browsing online and came across Oprah Winfrey’s quote, “The only thing you shouldn’t miss is what matters to you”.

I know – you’re saying ‘easier said than done, Oprah’ right about now, aren’t you?

Of course, we shouldn’t miss what matters to us. Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it. Why would we spend our time paying attention to those things that in the long run really don’t mean a thing?

But why do we miss it so often, then? What does matter most, I wonder?

These are the kinds of things I think about when I’m taking my dog for long walks. Or lying under the air conditioner on a hotel room bed, alone. Or when my hands are immersed in sudsy, grapefruit scented warm water and I’m unconsciously scrubbing the remnants of last night’s pasta sauce off the Teflon coated pan. Definitely when I’m elbow deep in dirt and weeding in my garden.

One thing you shouldn’t miss- spring flowers in your garden.

When I was in my twenties, what was mattering most to me? Did I even know?  I remember feeling like my two girls did tonight – the fear, the insecurity, the cold sweats and second thoughts and absolute stupefaction over what life had in store for me once I graduated from college.

I stumbled alone, crossing my fingers and hoping the Universe would reveal the shortcut I needed to take to get where I thought I should be. It wasn’t a straight line for me, either. The circuit was tumultuous, terrifying and exhilarating, for sure, and for the last 25 years, I’ve towed the line in teaching.

All along, I’ve been trying to figure out just what Oprah reminded me of – what matters most.

Maybe it’s turning 50 this year, or perhaps it’s been watching my daughter move away and my son battle health challenges that has cleared the path for me. Because today, more than ever, I’m realizing that the words I shared at my dining room table were words I needed to remind myself – “It takes guts to listen to your heart. It takes a lot of courage to admit that the path you’re on isn’t the path that you want.”

The passageway of my life is narrowing with age, but widening with perspective. I know now, more than ever, that listening to my intuition and trusting the journey is the route before me.

I know that like the crack of daylight at dawn, it’s the glorious moments of each day, the little extraordinary ordinary moments that offer a glimpse into the world, are what matters to me.

These are the only things you shouldn’t miss.

Just an ordinary, extraordinary moment with my two babies- what matters most.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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The Lily

Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?

~ Mary Oliver

Oh, how I love Mary Oliver and her tremendous ability to weave language and nature and wisdom into a braid of enlightenment.

Her poetry always appears when I need it, whispering to me to pay attention – to be here, now.

Mary Oliver makes me think – makes me work for it. I slide her words around my mouth, swallowing bit after bit of understanding until suddenly, it makes perfect sense.

The ‘patience of vegetables and saints’ – yes, yes, yes.

The perfect prayer.

The realization that I, too, can “lightly” close myself, wind up my thoughts and pain and joy inside and just be content to be here, now, with them, whispering solitary prayers for peace and hope and grace and courage… and patience. Breath. Calm.

And the deep, deep knowing that all will be well.

The blooms spring up overnight, gracing me with their glory, their fragility, and their contentment to just be, to grow, to bloom “until the whole earth has turned around and the silver moon becomes the golden sun.”

One day at a time.

One prayer at a time.

Thank you, Mary Oliver.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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“Equal pay for equal work!”

His words broke the silence. The midnight air was sultry and my feet ached from tromping around in sandals all day; in March, I’m not used to 90-degree weather, and my body was protesting. The bright moonlight and headiness of three new soul sisters, along with being 100 yards from my air conditioned hotel room were close at hand. In three days I have grown close to these three women surrounding me in the parking lot, and knowing this was the last night together was keeping all of us from retreat.

“I was billy clubbed for you,” came a voice from beside me. “Equal pay for equal work!”

Turning, I saw him as he spiraled, dancer-like, around his suitcase. “Billy clubbed – I stood up for you!”

I glanced at my companions and giggled at their astonished expressions. They’d obviously never come this close to a tweaker before.

“I went down and stood up for equal pay and those cops just billy clubbed me and you know I used to be the face, I used to be the one the agents were calling. I have two children, you know, and now those goddamn….taxi driver, you’re running the meter, right?” His voice rambled, almost incoherently, but we were intrigued.

The taxi driver stood with a coy smile on his face, his eyes glinting in recognition. Tweaker guy was entertaining, and he was getting paid.

Soul sisters night out

“Why are you standing so far away?” he growled at Kim, who hadn’t moved a muscle since he interrupted our soul sister circle.

“Dude, what’s up?” I tried to connect to his eyes, but they were darting between us like a well-caffeinated mosquito. Meth, I thought.

“I have two children you know. I was billy clubbed for equal pay for women. Those celebs, I was with the best of them. And now nothing…” his chiseled features and Southern California tan made him believable as he teetered between our reality and his. Twirling on the handle of his luggage, he recited his lines with Academy Award winning accuracy. “I was raped by a priest and then I protested for women. Burn the bras, I say! Burn them!”

It was silent in our circle; no one could respond nor get a word in. I reached out my hand to stop his pirouette, to somehow connect and see beyond his ramble. He grabbed it, and for just one nanosecond he stopped spinning. We were there, under the Palm Springs starlight, and I had gotten under his Hollywood veneer and seen him.

“I’m 51, you know. 51 and they all knew me, equal pay for equal work, I say! I love women!” he rambled as the moment was lost, and he was back inside his story. Four sets of eyes fixated on him, the taxi driver chuckling in the background as he waited, trunk open, meter spinning.

“Take care of yourself, dude,” I cautioned as we stepped away and down the driveway.

“Burn your bras!” he screeched back.

I walked along the moonlight driveway surrounded by my tribe. I wanted to buy him a coffee. I wanted to hear his story  – how did two of us, the same age, take such different paths yet collide in a hotel parking lot? What choices did we make to create this moment? Why did the Universe have our journeys collide?

“We need to load the car at 7:45,” I heard myself saying. “We can leave straight from the conference with plenty of time to make it to the airport. Maybe even grab some lunch close by.”

I could see the taxi lights in the distance; he hadn’t left. What was going to happen to him, this soul-sister in solidarity? Where would his story end tonight?

Helpless and hopeless, I slipped my key into the door, wishing I had taken his photo, wondering what his name was and where he would go. The taxi lights were still there, and the silence washed over me. His journey continues. I wished him to find a safe place to sleep, and someone to reach out a hand in the morning.

View from the next morning – the taxi was gone.

Drug abuse and homelessness are a choice away from so many in our society. Once whole, once vibrant, our journey can pull us in directions we never imagined – away from careers, from friends, from our children. We have the choice to look away or to extend our hand to those who are suffering. In your community, is there a way you can extend your hand, open your heart, and help?

In Sacramento, we have Saint John’s program, an organization dedicated to break the cycle:

“There is no easy way to escape living in crisis. Since our founding on the steps of St. John’s Lutheran Church in 1985, we’ve challenged many homeless mothers with children to grapple with that difficult truth. And not everyone can. It takes a certain type of woman to stand up to everything that’s ever damaged or broken her and take full, complete control of her life. It’s difficult. It’s painful. And again, it’s not for everyone. Saint John’s is for the woman who wants to make the leap. Who will fight the pervasive influence of homelessness, poverty, and abuse. Who will make an empowered decision to rise up and become a productive community member. Who understands, unequivocally, that the decision to create a better life – for herself and for her family – rests entirely on her.”

I’ll be working with Naot Footwear on April 2 as my way of reaching out. The Naot Trunk Show & Donation Event at Birkenstock Midtown Sacramento allows us to combine two things that we love, fashion and helping those in need. Everyone invited to attend the event will be able to contribute to Saint John’s Program for Real Change just by simply trying on shoes. If you try on a pair of Naots, they will donate a pair to those in need. If you buy a pair, they will donate two pairs. It’s fashion for a cause – and your small action can make such a huge difference!

If you’re in the Sacramento area, reach out and join me on April 2 between 10-5 at Birkenstock Midtown 2500 J Street Sacramento, CA 95816. Catch a ride with me if you need to!

I hope to see you there- remember together, we can do great things.

I received compensation for this post; however, I wholeheartedly endorse this orgaization.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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BY DICK ALLEN

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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