One morning, my neighbor asked me if I had heard the commotion outside my door the night before. I told her it sounded like a visitor was leaving and they were laughing and saying goodbye, so I thought nothing of it. “There was a frog at your door” she said. “It was sitting facing your door as though it wanted to come in.” They had a grand time trying to direct it outside. I wish someone would have taken a picture of it.

I long to have interspecies communication. I would have loved to ask the frog, “Why are you at my door? Do you have a message for me?” I always see an animal’s crossing my path as a sign, so I looked in my book “Medicine Cards” in the chapter on frogs.

I read that the frog symbol is about cleansing. “Frog medicine is akin to water energy; it teaches us to honor our tears. If you were to look at where you are today, would you use any of the following words to describe your condition: tired, overloaded, harried, frustrated, guilty, itchy, nervous, at a loss, empty or weakened?” Wow, was that me or what? “OK froggy,” I said, “I’m listening.”

I had been living in my apartment for only a month adjusting to the new normal. I was still recuperating from the previous year, which had been extremely exhausting: I published my book “Coming to the Edge: Fifty Poems for Writing and Healing,” worked too many hours, stressed about trying to refinance my condo, which I couldn’t qualify for, and finally deciding to sell. At first I felt defeated, but the process ended up being liberating. I sold my condo in four days and received more money than what I thought I could get for it. I was also able to go into senior housing right away, having been on the waiting list for over a year. I was relieved that I paid off all my debts, but I was still exhausted.

Transitions are challenging and are a cleansing as well. So much letting go making way for the new while staying open to guidance. The actual transition begins way before the fact and continues way after one is supposedly settled. It’s a long birthing process and we must allow ourselves to stay in the womb waters until we are ready to emerge on our new path. Time to surrender, to allow oneself to be held by the Divine Love that calls us. Time to retreat from Doing and give in to Being. I realized it was time to float and stop treading water. Time to take in the nourishment I don’t have to work for. Time to let the mud settle and wait for clarity.

Waiting is not an easy task. I napped a lot and set up my apartment slowly after each rest period. I was grateful for the many friends who helped me at different steps along the way. Yet, it was so easy to focus on what was not finished. Each time I took a nap, I had to allow myself to let go, to honor my exhaustion, and not worry about the future.

Recently, the more I read about the solar eclipse and its spiritual message, I realized how timely its message was for me. Everything I read affirmed my own path and that I am part of a greater energy. In the midst of the unsettling times we are in, it is more important than ever to stay centered and calm, to nourish our souls in whatever way feeds us. Sometimes it’s being in nature, sometimes it’s petting a cat on my lap. Whatever nurtures me humanly is nurturing me spiritually. I am so much more than my small life. I am part of an evolving cosmos subject to laws that are immutable. I am a spiritual being living a human life and not as I was taught: a sinful being desperately trying to flee the human to reach a spiritual goal. What I know for sure is that the less I fight my humanness, or to put it in positive terms: the more I become fully human, the more I fulfill my spiritual purpose.

Helen Rousseau is an interfaith minister. Her website is at www.helenrousseau.com.

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