Learning to Listen

When I interned for this very magazine a decade or so ago, I was introduced to phrases that, with my midwestern Lutheran upbringing, were unfamiliar. Phrases like “divine timing” or “inner knowing” sounded a little too woo-woo. I wasn’t convinced those concepts were real. But I’ve changed my tune.

In 2023, after a few years of upheaval—globally, nationally, and personally—I found myself profoundly stuck. I was at a crossroads, or maybe even at a few different crossroads, and I didn’t know what to do.

My freelance business, the company I’d created more than five years ago, felt stagnant. A promising romantic relationship had blown up in my face (and in the faces of several other women). My apartment, the tiny haven I’d created after a divorce, was showing signs of decay that the property manager seemed unmotivated to address. I knew I needed change, but I was terrified of doing anything differently. I’d lived with that sense of anxiety for so long it was easy to see it as the norm rather than my inner knowing screaming to get my attention—and that is exactly what it turned out to be.

Days after confiding in my sister that perhaps it was time to throw in the towel on self-employment, I learned one of my favorite clients was seeking a proofreader. I applied and soon started work as a full-time member of the Unity team. It really did feel like divine timing, and even more so when one of my first assignments was assisting with the final proofreading of the stunning new book, 100 Years of Daily Word (Unity Books, 2023). It was a joy to see so many messages from the past century strung together. And it was my job to read each one carefully, looking for typos that had sneaked through the previous rounds of editing. I read reminder after reminder that my thoughts create my reality, that affirming the goodness of my life attracts even more good, and that trusting in a divine universe means not doubting that it has my back in the first place.

The inner knowing that Unity first taught me about years ago had been there all along, encouraging me to ask for help, to embrace change, and to trust in the divine timing of my life.

Cleaning Out the Closets

So I listened when I got a sudden urge, not long after starting the new job, to clean out all my cabinets and closets. I took quick action and parted ways with trash bags full of clothes I no longer wore, small kitchen appliances I never used, souvenirs I’d collected with past partners, and several boxes of books I didn’t intend to read again (or, if I’m honest, for the first time). I felt lighter than I had in months.

A couple of weeks later, when my downstairs neighbor sent photos of the mold growing on her ceiling, I did not hesitate. I notified the landlord of my intention to break my lease, found a new place I could move into before the week was out, and reserved a moving truck. I was soon picking up the keys to a rental house that had everything I’d been dreaming of: a porch big enough for two chairs, a corner bedroom with two windows, a kitchen with more than one drawer. The feeling of everything is falling apart had become everything is falling into place.

This is not to say, of course, that everything is perfect. Even good change is hard, and I definitely do not recommend making an emergency move four weeks after starting a new job! But I no longer feel stuck.

There is room for a deeper breath, for more growth, for more good.

It is wild to look back at the domino effect that led to this whirlwind of transition and see that even when I felt most desperate for a clue—any clue—I already knew what I needed to do. The inner knowing that Unity first taught me about years ago had been there all along, encouraging me to ask for help, to embrace change, and to trust in the divine timing of my life.

This article appeared in Unity Magazine®.