Late
in the fall of 1996, I knew it was time to leave Santa Fe. I sat down
to decide where I was going to move. The choice was wide open. I could
move anywhere I desired. I began offering choices to my inner guidance.
I asked if Boulder, Colorado would be a good place to move? The answer
was no.
I
asked if Durango, Colorado or Aspen would work for me? The answer was
no. I asked if Sedona or Flagstaff, Arizona would be good places to
move? No, no. I asked about Carmel, California and the Big Sur country?
The answer was no. I asked about Eugene, Oregon, or one of the beautiful
coastal towns of Oregon, or Bend or Ashland, Oregon? The answer was
no for every one of these places.
Okay,
I thought, how about Puget Sound or Seattle or the San Juan Islands?
No, no, no. Perhaps, somewhere in Idaho or Montana? No , no again. I
kept trying. Burlington, Vermont? No. Asheville, North Carolina? No.
Somewhere in the Ozarks? No. Austin, Texas? No. I offered other choices.
The answer always came back no.
Finally,
in desperation and frustration, I asked about moving back to Kansas
City? The answer was yes! Oh, no! You must not have understood the question.
You want to me to move back to Kansas City? Yes. But I've already been
there. The response was, Yes, but that is where you need to go, and
as soon as possible.
But
that means moving to the Midwest in the middle of winter. (Do you get
the idea that I was a reluctant sell on this proposal?) How about if
I wait till May or June when the weather is nice? No. You must go to
Kansas City now.
All
right, but this had better be good.
I
moved to Kansas City late in December of 1996. Through more inner guidance,
I was led quickly to a neurologist, who discovered that I did not have
multiple sclerosis, but a spinal cord tumor. In early February of 1997
a wonderfully talented neurosurgeon, Dr. Geoffrey Blatt, removed the
tumor. Dr. Blatt later told me the tumor had progressed so far, that
without surgery I would have had at the most three or four months to
live.
If
I had waited to have my inner dialogue about moving, waited to move,
moved anywhere else, not called the neurologist who was recommended
to me, or waited to call her, I would have died in the spring of 1997.
Seven years later I am tumor free and have a normal life expectancy.
Holy Cow! Moving back to Kansas City saved my life. I still get chills
when I think how close I came to dying in the spring of '97.
The
voice of inner guidance may go by many names--intuition, inner wisdom,
your higher self, God, an angel, Great Spirit, a spirit guide. Whatever
that still quiet voice is to you, please listen.