A Breadcrumb for My Future Self

Listening for the tuning fork note

Roland’s Facebook memory from 11 years ago popped up this morning:
“Just back from Pender in what may have been a life-altering experience.”

Boy, howdy, was it — and is it.

It got me thinking about intuition.

We got Zelda, our dog, because of intuition.

I was lurking on Petfinder as a little break from work. She wasn’t the kind of dog I was looking for or like any of the dogs I’ve ever had in my life. We weren’t even in the market for a dog. But when I saw her, I just had a hunch that she should be our dog.

Roland trusted that ping more than I did. As a rule, I don’t trust intuition in general or mine in particular. I know too much about cognitive biases and heuristics to put much trust in something so sketchy. But Roland was sure, so who was I to say no?

And she’s been the most perfect dog I’ve ever had.

Now Roland brings it up every time I doubt my intuition: “Remember Zelda.”

So, slowly I’m learning to trust those pings.

We both had a ping about Pender.
A ping about the Spalding Valley.
A ping the first time we stepped onto this land.

None of those choices turned out the way we planned.
But all of them turned out to be life-altering in exactly the way we didn’t know we needed.

If anything, the fact that things haven’t gone according to plan is the real proof that something intelligent is at work — some deeper tide pulling me toward whatever-my-life-is-actually-for, toward healing, toward coherence.

So what if I trusted that?

What if — instead of worst-case scenarios running their tired loops —
I trusted the evidence?

All those pings, like breadcrumbs on the path - have led me right here
to a place that feels like healing,
to work that feels like a calling,
to a path that feels like it’s shaping me into the person I’m supposed to be.

Confidence — con-fide — just means “with complete trust” - not in some future outcome, but in the here and now.

Trusting that, for right now, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Trusting the intelligence that leaves breadcrumbs.
Trusting my ability to notice the ping when it lands.

There are two aspects to this trust. The first is can I trust whatever my intuition is tapping into?

I’ve never been able to trust that “higher power” in its Judeo-Christian robes - some all-knowing, all-powerful, singular and separate entity “out there” controlling everything “down here.” Maybe it’s the idea that somehow “he” looks like us that seems so unbelievable.

But I can believe in the power of Life, a force as powerful and real as gravity. A pattern-seeking intelligence of a living universe moving constantly toward balance, beauty, and complexity. The evidence of that is everywhere everyday right in front of my eyes.

The second question is trickier: can I trust my ability to hear it clearly? To notice the difference between fears and fantasies… and the real ping. To hear what is being said rather than what I want to hear.

Slowly, through practice I might be developing some skill at stripping away what doesn’t ring true.

Buddha (that still quiet voice).
Dharma (the breadcrumbs left along the path).
Sangha (the people and places that help us stay awake).

A three-legged stool of intuition.
Stable enough to sit on, even on a windy day.

That’s all that’s being asked of me:
To attend. To listen. To be response-able.

And so: a breadcrumb

This feeling will fade — because feelings always do.
That doesn’t make it less true.
It makes it more important to write down.

So I’m leaving this breadcrumb for my future self:

You’ve never actually been lost.
Every strange turn has been part of the path.
You’re here because you followed the pings,
and the pings have never led you astray.

When you forget — come back to this.
Come back to the land.
Come back to the tuning fork note.

It’s still ringing.