What I can now see that I couldn't before!

I walked outside after a day mostly in bed recovering, and then a day in cart-close mode. My gaze fixed on the mountains, steep, dry, and high in all directions. The sun was peeking out between two ranges (I bet the day started an hour earlier on the other side).

As I looked closer, I could see a few huts built near the peaks, made of mud, their roofs sloped at the exact same angle as the mountain itself. Nearly imperceptible. And to the right a structure I now know to be Intihuatana, an ancient sun tracking post.

I stood there for over an hour, taking in the mountains the way you take in the flames and embers of a fire. They pull you in. They dance for you. Maybe they drop you into a meditative trance. And you never once get bored. The mountains didn't dance, but they had me in a trance.

When I first arrived, I saw the mountains, but hadn't SEEN the mountains. Not in the technicolor and vibration I was seeing them in now.

Getting here was a whole saga. Twenty-four hours of travel that went shockingly well. I felt robust. A little proud of myself, honestly. Then I woke up the next day with food poisoning. Bumpy roads. Small, bumpy planes. Vomiting in public places (plural). Collapsing on arrival. Medical help. And then, slowly, a return to feeling stable in my own body.

The next day was cart-closing day for Resourced. I had planned on Monday landing, and having full uninterrupted focus for both day. Cute.

My Tuesday am email went out at 2pm, my 2pm at 5pm, and my “last hours” never made it… by choice.

I will come back to the mountains, stick with me!

That night, I decided to stop checking email and do an abundance meditation to reset my system instead. Part of it is simply noticing the blocks, then the desires, and then to all the abundance that is already here.

Abundance?

Umm, right? Dr. Deb Kern literally hand-making me a shake of local ingredients and walking it up the road to my room. The mountains out my window. My husband at home tending to all the things (thank you, my love). The nurse and healer who set me up with an IV. The ability to actually rest while sick. (Anyone with kiddos who has had to tend to them while violently ill?! You know it's a real luxury to just be sick and rest!)

My body began to shift.

At the end, I put on music and let my body move until I could visualize and feel gold running through my system and all around me. (My jam. Take it or leave it!) I could feel myself remembering my own wholeness. Being part of something bigger, more beautiful and connected.

I am so freaking rich.

Then I went to bed. I didn't check my email or the cart. (And people, I am a woman who deeply cares about providing value, and I care about my bottom line- so this was great for me).

I went to sleep feeling whole. I slept deeply.

In the morning I took my time, staying landed in that place of completeness. When I did check my email, ten new participants had joined us.

Welcome to those of you who joined last minute!! I see you and am happy to have you! That's how I tend to join too!

And the coolest part? I was already good inside. (I'm ok when I'm ok). The ten new humans, I'm psyched to have. Another blessing.

Which brings me back to the mountains. The beauty was here the whole time. I was too dysregulated (sick) to see it. My body needed enough safety to let in the magnificence.

This is one of the most well-documented things we know about stress. Under pressure, attention funnels toward the few cues that feel most urgent, and everything in the periphery drops away (Easterbrook, 1959). As safety returns, the aperture widens. Positive emotion measurably broadens what we notice and the options we can imagine (Fredrickson & Branigan, 2005).

I see this in sessions all the time. After one of my visual nervous system resets, a woman drove home through her town and saw a huge, beautiful barn. She turned to her husband: "Is that new?"

He said, "That barn has been there since before we moved here."

What?!

As perspective widens, new things become visible. And for me, on this trip, synchronicities started showing up too.

The next day, after teaching my Juice class (more on that soon), I walked into town to meet Deb for a meal. I thought I knew the town. I'd already been "downtown," one narrow road with a few shops on either side.

I kept walking. And walking. Until I hit the actual downtown.

Abundance overflow.

To my surprise and delight, it opened into narrow street after narrow street, filled with vendors and handmade crafts. A whole world I had no idea was there. I'd been so sure I was in a sleepy little village that already held everything I could want or need.

I wandered into one shop. The man inside is Q'ero, part of the Inca community known for their deep connection to the living intelligence of the natural world. He told me, "Sara means corn in Quechua. And here, corn is the symbol of prosperity and abundance."

I just stood there.

This man handed me my own name back as a blessing. It felt like an affirmation, and a reminder of the night before: Change my state. Feel into what is already a gift. Give thanks. Keep my desires as directionals. Let my perspective widen.

I'm ok that when I could barely move, I couldn't take it in. That makes sense. And I get that some seasons of life feel like that for days, months, even years. I've lived that.

Isn't is wild (and sometimes grief inducing) to wonder:

What opportunities, synchronicities, or beauty might be here, waiting for my body to feel safe enough to see?

If you're open to it, try this:

Pause. Let your eyes soften and travel slowly around the room, or out the window. See if there's one thing you haven't noticed in a while. A color. A shape. A barn.