It's in the little things

I continued to follow the signs, inwardly and outwardly, for the rest of that day. And moment flowed beautifully into moment, synchronicity into synchronicity. And following the flow seemed to take me direct to situations which would mirror back to me issues within my being - areas of 'tightness' which were as yet unhealed. Today, these appeared to be mainly around practical issues (up till now often stumbling blocks in my life - I know I'm not alone in this, but I have tended to neglect them (to my peril) in favour of more 'stimulating' things).Anyway, I realised I was low on Euros and, when I went to the cashpoint, realised that I couldn't get any money out (I had neglected to tell my bank that I was going to Italy - as I mentioned, it was quite a last-minute-thing). And so they had blocked my card and I couldn't resolve this siutation until the next day. And visiting a bank, though the representative really wanted to help me, I wasn't able to change my English money into Euros without my passport (which I'd intentionally left at the campsite that morning for 'safe keeping'). Also, my iPhone was running out of juice and I didn't have the name of my campsite or contact details for my only contact in the country - my friend Giorgio - except in my phone. The temptation would have been to 'tighten' around the situation. I knew however that I was being 'tested' and what I really needed to do was just the opposite: to 'surrender' and 'soften' into the situation.It wasn't difficult. Infact the process was quite amusing! I needed to buy a bus ticket and went to a nearby ticket machine to do this. I put in the required money; the machine swallowed my money and gave nothing back. I tried again: the same thing happened! All the time, I was being tempted to 'tighten' inside. Instead, I laughed - the universe was having a joke, testing my fear of lack, which I really didn't need. So I asked inside what next and my eyes fell upon a young woman. I told her the situation and she walked me over to a shop where I could buy a ticket.I walked outside with my ticket and a sweet old man came up to me and started talking about the machines and how 'nobody cared any more'. We had a blessed conversation, the two of us, laughed a lot together, and when I left to get my bus I squeezed his arm and he sang out 'God bless you'. All the lights changing to green as I went, my path cleared. I knew that exchange was meant to happen. Now I could get my bus and on to the next challenge!I texted Giorgio and said that if he was free to give me a lift to my campsite after his work, it would be best to arrange a meeting place now as my battery might run out at any moment. He said that, due to tensions at work, he wasn't sure when he would be able to leave, so we arranged to meet for dinner together at my campsite later on instead. I 'knew' that I would be provided with everything I needed, even should I have no money and no means to contact anyone I knew. All I needed to do was follow the flow.And funnily enough that flow took me to another situation in which I could quite easily be tempted to 'tighten' (and miss all the opportunities in the moment). I went to wait for the bus and soon found that the particular bus route I had chosen was running very late and all timetables were out of synch. Crowds of people, weary after their day's work, had gathered to wait, and many of them gave up and wandered off to find an alternative. Interesting (usually everything flowed for me)!I watched closely for signs. I still felt that there was 'something in this situation' for me. And so, when the bus finally arrived (back to Prosecco - strangely I felt pulled to walk back up the Napoleonic Walk, though it was getting late) I boarded it, taking the last free seat.The bus was full of sweaty hassled unsmiling Italians. I noticed one of them was wearing a t-shirt with the word 'martyr' emblazoned across the front. My consciousness was pricked at this point. I had had a day of being touched by the vulnerability and humanity of each person I met (even those that were quite clearly operating behind a 'mask') and often found tears coming to my eyes. This word was directing my consciousness towards a related 'pattern' of mine that perhaps needed releasing - I had had a lifelong tendency to hone into the suffering/ vulnerability/ pain of others and somehow, take it on energetically. In so doing I was 'martyring myself' (there was a self-sacrificing element). And this was just the tip of the iceberg of a string of other 'martyr-like' patterns for me. Maybe it was time to let these go? I resolved to keep my eyes open to any related messages that should come up.Anyway, our busy journey, which should have taken around 10 minutes, took about 45. At one point we took an unscheduled stop of about 20 minutes (apparently there had been an accident on the road ahead). Amused as to what the universe could be planning (as I said, this kind of 'blocking' was unusual for me) I was prompted to text Giorgio and let him know what I intended doing (though on 'red, my battery hadn't entirely run out). Then, about 20 minutes later, just as we were finally nearing our destination and I was preparing to set out on the route I mentioned (one which had no vehicular access for at least two hours), a text came through from Giorgio saying that he could now come and pick me up. Perfect synchronicity.Ten minutes later we were driving out of Prosecco on the road to my campsite. My attention was 'pricked' to a sign I saw earlier for 'The Sanctuary of Monte Grisa'. I felt a strong pull to go there. I told Giorgio and soon we were winging our way up a mountainside along a beautiful tree-lined path with a view to die for (how very martyr-ish!). It was a lovely sunlit evening.I didn't at this point even know what Monte Grisa was, but knew it had 'gifts' for me. It turned out to be the building that my English friend, when we had arrived in Trieste earlier in the week, had noticed and singled out as a place she wanted to visit. Though when we had had the opportunity, somehow it never happened! Colloquially called 'il formaggio' (the 'little cheese' - it kind of looks like one) it's a modern-day cathedral built high on a hill ('a conspicuous landmark, seen by many, visited by few' (Wikipedia). I soon realised why. It was a place that was associated with much suffering (and infact, I had come to realise that this was what Trieste, with its view across the Balkan countries, and its many layers of suffering across history, had come to represent for me). A place of great beauty, the temple was built in the mid-60s as 'a pilgrims church': a refuge, a symbol of the 'peace and unity of all people, in particular on both sides of the Iron Curtain' (only 10 kilometers away) and which it overlooked.We parked and started walking up the hill past the Sanctuary. Set among pine trees, the route was awesomely beautiful. Every few steps along the road, on each side, there was a large wooden crucifix (notice the 'martyr' theme rearing its head again here?) and I was pulled to stop at each one and just feel. When I'd stopped at about three of the seven or eight of these crosses, each accompanied by a mini statue of Christ on the cross, tears started to roll down my cheeks - and this continued for the whole journey. We had slowed almost to a standstill. I wasn't sure quite what was happening, but some deep healing was going on within my being. And it was something to do with this 'martyr-ish', self-sacrificing element that I'd identified earlier.This continued for some time and then we found ourselves walking up the path towards the Sanctuary. On one side was a commemorative statue to those who had lost their lives or been tortured under the Nazi regime (again I found myself crying for the depth of humanity's suffering on this planet). Then, still walking slowly and purposefully, we turned the corner, and my tear-filled eyes fell on something that touched me deeply: a deer appeared to our right, and raised her head and looked at us. What followed was a beautiful tearful exchange (for me at least), as I walked towards her, hand outstretched. Her tenderness and vulnerability seemed to echo the same beautiful tenderness and vulnerability of humanity, in all its suffering and pain. This moment lasted for what seemed like an age and then the deer and I turned our heads away from each other and went on our way, she deeper in the forest, me (with Giorgio trailing behind, a little bemused) up the path to the Sanctuary. A few paces on we were treated to one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen in my life and a view across the sea from extreme left to extreme right. And the final piece de resistance, a beautiful lifesize plaque made of out rock set against the backdrop of the Balkan countries that had endured so much suffering, of Christ appearing in light to his disciples and Mary Magdalene at his resurrection. And it brought it home to me what a wonderful, blessed, painful, brilliant journey this life is. And somehow all the suffering that we go through, whether this is as a result of persecution, say, a messy divorce, or estrangement from our loved ones, somehow it is all so necessary for our soul to ultimately pass its tests and shine out in all its glory at our own 'resurrection' (or ascension).It had been quite a day for me. I went back to the campsite, ate dinner (which I can't for the life of me remember) and, unsurprisingly, slept like a baby that night!