what’s the greatest lesson a woman should learn?
that since day one
she’s already had everything she needs within herself
it’s the world that convinced her she did not
-rupi kaur, the sun and her flowers
Today’s post opens with one of my favourites from the acclaimed Canadian poet, Rupi Kaur. How could it not, when she was in town just last night, filling the Orpheum with her gracious, humorous, beautiful truth and raw honesty. Refreshing and uplifting. Rupi glowed. And we all glowed with her.
Rupi’s poems often feel like a comforting reminder of our common ground and shared humanity. For me, the poem above affirms the inherent intuition and individualized inspiration that we each hold within us, ready to share and shine with those around us.
I’ve been thinking about nudges lately. There’s a time in life, it seems, when we require tidal waves, tsunamis of redirection and adjustment. And there are times when gentle nudges tap us and turn us, if we would only follow, to the place we can best serve and be served. Tsunamis are unstoppable and cannot be ignored. But nudges are subtle, easier to miss. And I’m finding that nudges are important cues to pay attention to, because they are mini diamond shaped blazes on the trail, reassuringly placed there to guide us on the path upward. Disregarding these results in adventure, to be sure, but there is wisdom to be found in humble receptivity to gentle nudges.
What I love about gentle nudges is that they are tailor made, intricately designed just for us.
Here’s a story about some recent gentle nudges in my life.
I misplaced my favourite travel mug. It’s not valuable, not by any dollar amount anyway. But it was given to me by a dear friend, a kindred spirit, and I love thinking of her and so many other things each time I use it. For several days I searched all the obvious places, my car, my mum’s car, even my dad’s car, the pantry, my room. I searched all these places a second time. Eventually the nudge came to, let it be. The mug is somewhere, and it will show up again. **Notice the nudge didn’t specify when or where, or nudge me to continue searching. So I remember consciously agreeing to stop searching, and to trust. (I am not always this cooperative with gentle nudges).
A few weeks later, after a full weekend of hosting I had an open afternoon to prepare for the week ahead. A gentle nudge came: go to the Christmas craft fair. But I’m tired! I don’t feel like going out! It’s busy there! I’m in good shape with my gift shopping! I don’t want to spend money on things I don’t need!
Like a push on a swing, a gentle nudge is persistent, sending you back out to try again.
I was less willing this time.
But the nudge returned. It was gentle, but persistent. Prodding at me to, go to the Christmas craft fair.
Rather than simply going, I did what I think many of us do. I reasoned it out. Thought about what might be in it for me. Well, I persuaded myself, I’d be bound to run into some friendly community members, and I am not against supporting local artisans and activities. So I stopped by the ATM, and headed over.
A parking spot opened up right out front. I headed into the crowded gymnasium and started perusing the stalls. Sure enough, a beautiful conversation with an island friend, and then another, and I was already feeling full and this had been the right thing to do, after all. I turned to leave a friend’s stall and head to the next. I did a double take. There on the next stall over, was my travel mug. It’s a unique mug and I couldn’t imagine how anyone on my little island would have the same one. The woman told me she’d picked it up at lost and found at a restaurant I’d visited on the mainland exactly three weeks before. Her daughter just happened to bring it along today for her coffee. She often brought these lost items back out into the community, trusting they would someday reunite with their owner. “Merry Christmas!” she said.
I came away from that craft fair with a little extra cheer in my holiday step. The mug was not a valuable item, not irreplaceable. But it meant something to me, and I’d had a gentle nudge that it would turn up again. I did not visit every stall at that craft fair, and it was bustling in the gym - not all tables were visible among the crowd. But there was my mug. The moment felt like a warm hug, a reassuring squeeze after those gentle nudges had been quietly whispering, trust me.
Some call the nudge source God, some Love. Others, the Universe. Others still might chalk it up to serendipity, even karma. Whatever you do or do not call it, I imagine there have been times you’ve been inspired to do things for reasons you can’t quite explain. I was impelled (gently nudged!) to write this piece, and share a gentle nudge with you. And maybe you have a gentle nudge story, too.
-Ali
