In the hypnotherapy business I seldom receive clients who are exactly where they want to be in their lives. Rather, they come to change something making them unhappy. It is really part of the human condition to want to improve. Even as we hear the saying, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” we are thinking that what that really means is we are denying that something desperately needs to be fixed.
For a long time, when checking in with myself, it would be the speculation of others’ voices and thoughts that told me how it was all going. What would my sister think of my choices? What would my uncle say about how I’ve handled finances? The voices of the committee are what we call them. How does the committee think I’m doing? The committee is important because by listening to them we ensure ourselves a place in the village; a good place, too. Not the edge of town next to the swamp and wild woods.
In the stories about villages, though, it occurs to me that there are ever only a few sorts of people who are really free and that includes the ones living at the edge. When we first moved to the small village of Nevis in Minnesota, I plotted out a short story about a woman who lived just within walking distance of town who was a healer and told fortunes. Though not autobiographical, (I did not own a single tarot deck then), I did give my character my favorite dog, Charlie, as a companion. What appealed to me about my character, my garden-loving old woman, was her freedom. She understood a deep truth, the knowledge of Turtle energy; her home was with her no matter where she lived, be it the center of the town or the edge of the forest.
In more than one past life regression that I’ve experienced, I’ve been shown turtles. Even before I understood their message, I gravitated towards turtles, filling my home with turtle-themed pieces of artwork. Turtle knows the value of her shell. She can protect herself, her heart and still move around the world. She can swim in the depth of emotions and her own spirit, reliant on that shell, that part of her own body that keeps her safe. She does not need to be fast or busy. She does not need to preen or cavort to gain attention.
For a long time I was a turtle playing the part of the hare. The Universe sent me countless messages to remind me of my turtle nature and I heeded the messages not truly understanding them, and uneasy because the hare wanted to keep taking off and run, fearful of losing ground, losing the race. Finally, though, Turtle has caught up with me and I understand the grace of being a Turtle person.
When you are safe in your own shell, there is the leisure to look more closely at those things you might like to fix. There is the blessing of time to really watch how they work and what they are suppose to be doing for us—those bad habits and blocking behaviors. An interesting thing happens when we take that time to be quiet and mindful, to listen to the messages sent to us from the subconscious and the superconscious—we find out that broke or not we are good enough; we are loveable. We are loved.
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