How does Spirit tap you? Does it come on the wings of a bird or through a fallen feather? Does it come through the words of a song or in the whisper of a dream? Does it come whilst you’re walking, or when you are sitting watching the ocean. One thing is for sure, if we try too hard, or worry too much, or focus on getting things right, Spirits tap can be easily missed. If we get stuck in our fears or concerns or drown in our own expectations, we will probably miss the gentle guidance sent to us.
If you choose to stay busy trying to get things right … Spirit will still softly tap or even nudge you on the shoulder, but you probably won’t feel a thing.
This was one of the reasons I have come to Venice. To hear the whisper, to feel the nudge. To listen to the guidance and allow myself to be shown what is next. The where, the how and the what, are so often things we struggle to get right. But what if trying to get it right is a sure way to get it wrong?
If you know, as I do, that we are spiritual beings here to experience physicality and also to fulfill our part in the Divine Plan, then surly we will be given all the guidance we need, if only we can stop long enough to listen, feel , see and understand the sign posts.
Part of this journey includes our free will. The signs are there but we can choose how and when to follow them. That’s the tricky part. For me at least.
So here I am in a new country, alone, with only a brand new spattering of Italian and a huge physical need to talk to people. But I have discovered a part of myself that I had forgotten. A part of myself that 40 years of marriage and five children hid very well.
I don’t approach new people very easily. I get on the vaporetto (boat bus) and stand in the same corner and quietly just watch everyone. I go into a café or a restaurant and sit quietly and no matter who’s around, I don’t start up a conversation. If I hear English I might say something, but I don’t naturally start up a conversation. I am equally as introverted and as I am extroverted and the situation could have gone on and on like that except, a few days ago I got a very sore tooth.
I sent a message to a new Australian friend living here in Venice asking whether she knows a dentist. I wrote to my Italian teacher and I wrote to an Italian friend, who speaks perfect English and who was introduced to Oren and I years ago. No one answered. So what do I do? I’m in pain and am starting to feel a bit hot and damnit I’m alone. It’s early morning. The chemists are still closed. I feel tired. Hard to get out of bed. I know I have an infection and I have to do something.
I get up and go to a café not far from my home. The owner doesn’t not speak one word of English. I approach her and try to tell her I need a dentist. Niente. Nothing. She doesn’t understand. She looks at me and waits. I feel myself get anxious. I miss Oren so much at that moment I can feel the tears. And then I’m angry and then I’m sorry for myself. All this in less than a second.
I search my brain for the words in Italian. Ho…. un problema. Mi… ( oh God what’s need) serve… ( Yes, serve) un dentista.
Bingo. And the owner told me where there was a dentist and how to get to him. And suddenly just like that, we became friends.
I found the name of a dentist on the outside wall of a locked residential building across the Guidecca canal. How do I get into the building? Suddenly, a cleaner arrives and opens the door to the entrance. I calmly follow into the building, pretending I am supposed to be here at 8 am. I take a lift to the 3rd floor and knock on the door that has a sign Dentisa. A round lady, dressed in a green apron opens the door, and looks very surprised. She says what do I want in Italian. I understand but get tongue-tied trying to tell her. I squeeze out the same sentence again. “Ho un problema. Mi serve un dentista.”
A few hours later I meet an elderly dentist, with a huge mop of grey curly hair and two seriously blood shot eyes. He tells me I have a big problem. He doesn’t speak a word of English but he says ‘problema’ and shows me BIG with his arms. I will need root canal treatment, antibiotics and rest. He draws a picture. Slowly. Kindly. And a few words are the same in English. Necrosis. Pulp. Dead.
I’m so happy. I have a problem and I have a dentist. Couldn’t be better, but it is.
As I sit on the Vaporetto still completely numb from the injections I realise I have spoken to 3 new people in one day and I have a new friend, (even though we can’t really talk yet) There are times I absolutely hate being so alone. I haven’t been hugged for 3 weeks. To be fair I have had some human contact though, thanks to a rough but very friendly hairdresser.
But this tooth problem has been a God sent. Literally.
It has helped me break through an old pattern of shyness.
We don’t often thank Spirit for ill health but you know the saying, “Spirit works in mysterious ways.” I know that inflammation is anger. I talked about it in my last post. Last night realised I needed to punch a couple of pillows and shed a few hot tears. Anger may not bring him back but it sure helped me clear away some old energy.
And I got to speak to three strangers and make a new friend. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a spiritual tap. Maybe it was more like a shove, but whatever it was, I heard it, put something into action and here I am, in Venice, loving the experience. And I can’t believe I’m saying this but, I’m even looking forward to my next dental appointment.