Have you ever looked back on your life and realized how certain moments, seemingly insignificant at the time, were preparing you for challenges you would later face? Sometimes, the seeds of these moments are planted by others who trust your intuition—or by yourself when you dare to follow your inner knowing.
One such seed was planted by my sister. As a teenager, she trusted my intuition and asked for my opinion about the boys she dated. Despite everything else in our relationship, that memory stands out. She believed in my intuition, and her acknowledgment nurtured a seed of trust in my inner knowing.
Can you think of a moment when someone trusted your intuition or when you trusted theirs? How did it feel? What seed did it plant in your life?
Looking back, I see the threads of preparation woven through my life. At just two years old, I wanted to dance—not just move, but dance ballet. I don't know how I knew the word "ballet." There was no television or media to inspire me. Yet, by two and a half, it was my heart's desire. I didn't want dolls or toys. I wanted music and movement.
My mother enrolled me in a ballet school just a block away, and my world changed. By twelve, I was climbing the steps to the American Ballet Company's training program at Carnegie Hall, excited to lace up my toe shoes and learn alongside the grown-ups. My heart was set on becoming a prima ballerina—or perhaps a choreographer.
Then, my parents pulled me out. They may have had valid reasons—money, exhaustion, practicality—but never shared them with me. For years, I resented their decision. I redirected my path into nursing, defying even their doubts about my ability to succeed. Despite passing out at the sight of blood (which I later discovered was due to anemia), I graduated and became a nurse.
But life had other plans. Within months of starting my career, I was disabled for the first time by a psychotic patient. At 25, it happened again—this time at someone else's hands. I detail these stories in my books, but the lessons began long before those moments.
Can you look back and see how life prepared you for the unexpected?
Reflecting on my ballet training, I see it as a sacred gift. The discipline, posture, flexibility, and movements taught me how to navigate recovery repeatedly. Each stretch and practice session built a foundation of resilience that helped me face challenges I couldn't have imagined as a child.
Perhaps my soul knew what was coming. It could be karma, or life's twists and turns carry a hidden purpose. I like to believe that even the seemingly thwarted dreams of our youth can transform into tools for survival, healing, and growth. This belief in the transformative power of life's challenges can bring hope and optimism in the face of adversity.
What experiences in your life, no matter how ordinary or painful, have become sacred gifts in disguise?
As I write this, I am grateful for those early ballet lessons—not for the missed opportunity to dance on the world's stages, but for how they prepared me for life's challenges.
Life often teaches us in ways we only recognize in hindsight. Trusting our intuition—or the intuition of others—plants seeds that grow into the tools we need to face life's trials. Take a moment today to look back on your own life. What threads of preparation do you see? Engage in this introspective exercise to recognize the lessons life has taught you.
What sacred gifts has your soul provided to help you navigate your journey?
Your answers may surprise you, and they might just transform your perspective on the challenges ahead.
