I’ve heard it said that, in every moment, we are brand new. But what does that mean, exactly? I had an experience recently that demonstrated it to me in a way that surprised me. It involved, of all things, the grocery store.
We’re constantly changing, constantly evolving. This is very easy to see in children who can sometimes appear to grow several inches overnight. But as adults, we tend to think we don’t really change that much. Maybe we learn a new language or discover a passion for fishing that we didn’t know we had, but our personalities don’t change, right? Certainly not significantly.
But then, someone or something comes along and shakes up our world. Often this event is traumatic and causes us to look for answers and we begin to realize the world isn’t quite what we thought it was. We’re not who and what we thought we were.
This is what is often called Awakening, which moves us out of the third dimension of density and separation, and into the fourth dimension of transformation. Moving into the fourth dimension means it’s time to heal and release all that no longer serves us.
And man oh man, have I done some healing. Over the past decade, I’ve spent dozens of hours delving into my subconscious, often with the help of intuitive healers, in order to release the fears and beliefs and everything else that was ready to go.
As a result of all of this, I’ve changed. Dramatically. And in the most delightful ways (to partially quote a Mary Poppins song). At least, delightful to me.
Fifteen years ago, I would have described myself as a serious introvert. I was happiest in my house, preferably alone with the shades drawn. I disliked going to social gatherings of any kind, but especially neighborhood parties, and I hated going to the grocery store, especially one in the neighborhood where I might run into someone I knew. I mean, I loathed it.
I very happily, however, moved through large crowds of strangers. And I loved public speaking. It was people I knew who unnerved me, except for family and very close friends. Yet I’d never been bullied, never been harmed in any way. There was no logical explanation for this.
And then a past-life story emerged during one of my sessions with a gifted intuitive healer. In this lifetime a few centuries ago, somewhere on the River Thames in England, my 16-year-old little sister was murdered by the neighbors for being an herbalist, after a blight sickened the local cows and she was fingered as being the cause, as being a witch.
The middle sister of our trio fled the village and never returned, but I, the eldest, stayed and continued to tend my little sister’s garden after she was killed. I spent the rest of my life waiting for the neighbors to come for me.
I’d worked with this particular intuitive many times before, and she’d told me of other past lifetimes. But while I’d always listened with fascination, none of the stories triggered any kind of emotional response in me, even though some of them had been violent and/or deeply traumatic.
The moment she started talking about this past life, though, even before I’d processed any of the words, I started to cry, which is a sure sign that we’d hit a deep well of trauma. It actually took me months to realize that my discomfort with being around people who knew me, but who wouldn’t necessarily have my back in the face of an angry crowd, was precisely how that version of me must have felt for most of her life.
Understanding that I wasn’t necessarily an introvert, but full of fear…and that that fear wasn’t mine…changed my life. As is the way with such wounds, bringing it to the surface where I could see it, and understand it, was all that was needed for me to begin to heal and let it go.
It didn’t happen overnight, but I have changed profoundly. I love social gatherings these days, although I do prefer deep conversation to small talk. I marvel at myself, at how much of a comfortable, confident extrovert I’ve become, now that I’m no longer subconsciously terrified that the neighbors are going to string me up.
And this is just one example of how I’ve changed through this healing process. I used to be horribly allergic to cats, dust, pollen, you name it. That’s all gone. I used to struggle to take a deep enough breath, although I was told over and over I did not have asthma. Also gone, now.
I used to love dark, violent books, movies, and television shows – or at least be okay with all the violence. I’m not any more.
The ways I’ve changed are still surprising me. Because we get into habits. Habits of action, habits of thought. Humans are nothing if not creatures of habit.
Even though I know I’ve changed in a lot of ways, in a lot of other ways I still identify with who I was before. With what I like, with what I want.
It’s a bit of a shock to realize, once more, that some self-identity that I’ve held for a lifetime is no longer true. And it’s interesting to me how my guides/higher self/the universe will get my attention to that fact.
Case in point: My self-identity as a person who hates going to the grocery store.
I’m certain, now, that this began as a subconscious fear that I might run into one of the neighbors. But even though that fear went away, this particular self-identity did not. I continued to believe that I hated going to the grocery store.
When I was married, my husband did the grocery shopping for me. Later, I forced myself to go, until the pandemic hit and I discovered Instacart. I loved having an Instacart shopper do my grocery shopping for me!
When others abandoned Instacart, I continued to use it, racking up over 200 orders without looking too carefully at how much extra I was paying by shopping this way. I mean, I knew they charged a little bit more for each item. And a small service charge. But I bought the annual pass which meant no delivery fees, right?
Except, I had begun to notice that the pricing of individual items seemed to be going up. (Maybe they were, maybe I just thought they were.) I’d also begun to notice that the service fee was getting higher and higher. (Was it always based on a percentage of my total?)
For most of the past five years, I have felt a wave of immense gratitude and appreciation after an Instacart delivery. I love being taken care of in this way, having people do for me the things I truly dislike doing. My vibration soars with joy.
Also, I’ve received the message over and over to never make decisions based on fear or lack. Instacart was a bit expensive, but it was worth it. It made me feel so happy!
Until it didn’t.
Now that I look back on it, the past couple of times I’ve received my orders, I haven’t felt that same appreciation, that same joyous high. And I didn’t notice.
So the Universe brought my attention to it.
After loading my order into the Wegman’s app, a couple of weeks ago, I saw the price — over $300 — and I balked. Even though I didn’t hear the words, I got this feeling of Stop and pay attention. This is often how the Universe communicates with me, in these subtle ways, although I didn’t recognize it as communication, at the time.
So I switched my order to ‘Shop in Store’ to see what that would cost. Just over $200. Holy cow.
The Universe had gotten my attention, but I wasn’t sure what the message was, so I stopped and felt into it. Was I reacting to paying a lot of money? Was this a reminder that I’m still feeling lack and limitation to spending money on what I really want?
No. That didn’t feel right.
If it wasn’t about the money, what was this really about?
So I felt into the idea of going to Wegman’s myself, to the store where, years ago, I wrote books in their beautiful cafe seating area on the second floor.
Much to my surprise, it felt good. Like, really good.
Wait, what? I hated going to the grocery store. I knew that I was a person who hated going to the grocery store.
But I wasn’t going to pay $100 for a delivery. So I drove to the store, and here’s the crazy part.
I enjoyed it! I mean, it wasn’t just okay, or not bad, or I got through it. No! I actually enjoyed it. (When I told my daughter, she said, “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”) Now, Wegman’s stores are absolutely beautiful, and it was a weekday morning and not crowded. But at one time that wouldn’t have mattered at all.
I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to the grocery store for the first time in my life! Was this a fluke? Was this just a strange mood I was in?
Or have I changed?
I’ve spent my entire adult life as a person who dislikes going to the grocery store. A simple fact of who I am. But I realized a couple of things as I lay in bed thinking about it this morning.
First, that crazy $300 price tag for $200 worth of food got my attention. Thank you, Universe. It stopped me cold. Wake up call!
I still believe Instacart has been a godsend for me the past five years. I’ve been in a transformative state energetically, a chrysalis phase where I really needed to be in a bit of a hibernation.
But things change. Times change. We change, and often don’t realize it until something gets our attention.
Since the first of the year, I’ve been getting strong guidance/advice/marching orders to get out of the ruts of my old habits. It’s time to exercise again, to reclaim the strength and agility I necessarily let slide during this transformation. My energy was needed for internal work.
Also, it’s time to get back into a writing habit!
And yesterday, through this Instacart incident, I got the message that perhaps I’m someone who likes to go to the grocery store, now. But I suspect, the much bigger message is this:
I am brand new. In every moment of every day, I’m new. So what other beliefs that I’m holding onto are no longer true? What others of my likes and dislikes are no longer real?
This intrigues me! Potentially everything I think I know about myself has changed, or will change in the future. Maybe I actually do love to cook or garden or knit. Maybe I have a heretofore undiscovered talent for learning other languages, or playing an instrument. Maybe I just love to go to the grocery store.
The only way to find out is to stop clinging to what I’ve believed about myself, and to look at every opportunity with fresh eyes and a fresh perspective. To look at life with the mindset of a child, trying new things, playing with new ideas, and in the process, discovering who I am, and what I like, and what I want as if it’s all brand new.
As if I’m brand new. And I am. Every single day.