A Penetrating Spiritual Vision
This is what any good manifester needs to have. That, and the ability to be extremely flexible.
When something as fabulous as launching your brand-new global movement from the United Nations in New York happens through what feels like a divinely serendipitous set of unfoldings, then one can assume that the direction one is taking is guided and guarded.
Yes, and then there is living in the real world.
The heavy, fear-filled, dense and sometimes complicated set of circumstances and hoops one has to go through.
A movement doesn’t just happen. Well, it does eventually, but it’s not like lighting dry grass on a windy day. It’s more like gathering kindling and logs after a few wet days, starting that fire and tending to it carefully. Eventually, it will get hot enough to keep burning, but it needs a lot of care.
Part of that care, for me right now, is finding a camper. She is going to be my home, my office and my studio as I take She’s Proof across the USA.
And I’ve been hitting a wall.
I have searched through the same camper listings over and over. I need a place to stay, and I don’t know how long I’m supposed to be here. Oh, and I’ve got PMS, which makes everything feel impossible.
The enormity of the task set before me has felt very real.
Then something stopped me yesterday.
It was the realisation that nothing should be forced, and I cannot push the river.
There is a difference between being committed to the vision and being attached to how it unfolds.
This is moving fast, yes, but I must allow the guidance to come through, because there is the perfect van sitting somewhere right now.
This van knows her destiny. I can feel her.
She has her own character to bring, and she and I are going to be best friends.
She and I will ride together, sleep together, and create a whole bunch of memories together.
It is all part of the process.
So here is what a penetrating spiritual vision looks like on an ordinary day, when I’m stuck and tired and hormonal, and the listings all blur together. It’s pausing. It’s remembering the joy of the mission, the clarity of the vision, and the power of the collective, and looking at my less-than-ideal present circumstances through that, rather than through the fear.
When I do that, the next action becomes clearer. The tending stops feeling like grinding and starts feeling like joy.
The people, places, and things reveal themselves, and the fire will start.
That fire is for so many of us. If you are reading this and you are a woman in recovery, please consider sharing your recovery joys here:
And please consider sharing this with your friends. It really matters.
Thank you for walking with me.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
From Lizzie
