My Inner Voice and The Magic Fairy Cupcake Dust

Hi there. I’m Julia and I’m an introvert. (“Hiiii, Julia!”) When I was in high school and college and had to get up in front of class to give a report or a speech my fair face would flush fuschia, my voice would shake, and steam would come out of my ears. I tried the tricks: imagine the audience naked, in their underwear, find several kind faces and speak to them, etc. It never worked. Both times I got married I couldn’t get my vows to be louder than a whisper even though the second time I knew I was marrying the right man!  

Fast forward to 2013 when I joined a program to become a life coach where we partner with horses for the healing work we do. Yes, I could only coach one on one. It’s a valid plan. But I don’t see myself only doing that. I want to spread the word, spread my passion for finding and listening to your inner voice, I want to tell the world!

In a whisper? No. In the no nonsense voice The White Horse uses when she speaks to me. In the strong, sure voice my inner voice uses to tell me what the next steps are. And to that end, here is a novella about the strange and twisty road my inner voice took to help me to learn to speak up…

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You know, sometimes listening to your inner voice can make you seem like a crazy person—especially if you’re like me and can't stop working out your issues verbally.

Just before Christmas I had three nights in a row that all I dreamed about was gluten free cupcakes. Selling cupcakes. For eight hours straight. Three nights in a row. Incessantly. Cupcakes.

Really?

Cupcakes? 

REALLY? 

The first day I woke up with a laugh and thought, “Wow! What a night! That would be fun wouldn’t it? Maybe in another life.” And on I went about my day.

The second day I woke up, tired, and thought, “Are you f-ing kidding me? Is this my life now? Dreaming about cupcakes all night long? I’m exhausted. I’m in school to be a coach. I’m starting my Reiki business. I’m an artist. I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I have a horse and two dogs. I don’t have time for cupcakes."

In the middle of the Night of Cupcakes, Version 3.0 I woke up and started writing. What flavors I might make. Maybe I’d give them away instead of fudge for Christmas. Sometimes I take little gifts to the hospital and give them away to whomever I feel drawn to—maybe I should do that with these cupcakes. Writing, writing, writing. Finally I went back to sleep.

And dreamed about cupcakes some more.

The third morning, “FINE. I’ll make cupcakes today. I’ll find someone to give them to.” And so I did. I made chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting. The next day I made moist carrot cake cupcakes with walnuts, raisins, and shredded carrots with cream cheese frosting. I learned that I could freeze frosted cupcakes, who knew.

I was obsessed. I made German chocolate cupcakes with piped chocolate cream cheese frosting around the edge to hold the coconut pecan frosting on top, sprinkled with sea salt. The last batch I made was lemon cupcakes with lemon curd cream cheese frosting. Finally I felt complete. It was out of my system.

Ha. That’s what I thought…

The next week found me packaging up cupcakes into pretty boxes with ribbons, attaching a Christmas card and hauling cupcakes around to friends, aquaintances, and the kid’s teachers. Each time I was greeted with surprise and a huge grin like I had handed them a bundle of money. Apparently gifting someone with pretty cupcakes goes above and beyond. It made them happy. It made ME happy. It reminded me of a time a few years ago that I baked cupcakes and brought them to my brother in a domed cupcake tray. I have never in my life been so popular. The TSA people were my best friends, big smiles all around, laughing and joking. The people on the plane were smiling as I walked down the aisle. Not because I was sharing them with everyone around me mind you, just because I carried them with me. People were asking me, “Where are you going? Why are you bringing cupcakes? What’s the occasion? Are you going to share? ;-)” Just seeing cupcakes made people smile as if I had sprinkled them with Magic Fairy Cupcake Dust. Jeez, imagine if I had passed them out! Party on the plane, dancing in the aisle!

The nearly 100 cupcakes in my freezer were gone. I was cupcaked out. However, in the evening while watching TV I would find myself perusing cupcake sites on my iPad.  Reading about flavor combinations that sounded good. What was going on? When I woke up in the morning I would find notes that I had scribbled in the night to myself. About cupcakes.

It was getting a little weird. Okay, a lot weird.

From my nocturnal scribblings I figured out there was some correlation between cupcakes and coaching and Reiki. I couldn’t figure out what it was but there was something…niggling at the back of my mind…

Every so often I made a break through. Oh! This will help me get Reiki clients now and coaching clients when I graduate. Huh? Why? How? There was no way to prove it of course, it just felt right.

Boy, is that hard to explain.

I talked to others about it. Everyone gave me the same look, “Ummm…okay…” or sometimes straight out, “That seems a bit off track.” Or worse, “That doesn’t make any sense.” I tried to logically explain something that I only felt. “Well, I’m not sure, but maybe as I talk to people I will be able to tell them about what I do. Like Reiki for example. Maybe I would get more clients that way…” Then I would get that look again.

We went to NC for Christmas and for a family party I made German chocolate cupcakes and a new creation that I thought might work, key lime cupcakes with key lime curd cream cheese frosting and key lime curd filling. Decadence.

Over the past month I continue to ask my guides and horses and God, “Hey, what’s up with this cupcake thing? I still don’t get it.”

Rayn told me once, while eating the tiniest blades of green in a sea of brown grass, “Everyone likes choice bits.” Ha! Yes, I suppose she’s right. Other than that little nugget of wisdom I’ve not gotten any words, just the feeling to continue. More research revealed that there is something called Cottage Law that went into effect in 2012 in Colorado and a few other states. Basically it means I can make cupcakes in my own home and sell them to anyone as long as they don’t turn around and resell them. So, farmer’s markets, events, etc. All I needed was an online food safety course. I signed up.

Because I continued to talk, talk, talk to everyone about it I got a lot of opinions. None of them were positive. I have a lot on my plate and it was ridiculous to add more.

I continued on with everything else I was doing. I registered my business. I designed my logo. I didn’t know what to make of the cupcake thing so I pushed it away. However, after I created my logo I kept seeing my business cards next to my cupcakes.

This is my logo:

This is a cupcake:

Exactly. They have nothing in common.

So, I told myself, “Oh my God. This is getting crazier by the day. Just because I had three nights of dreams and I continue seeing myself doing this doesn’t mean I should. You need to let it go. It doesn’t make sense.”

I talked to my coach. She said, “Well, do you have a farmer’s market around you? Just try it once and see what happens.” We do have a farmer’s market. It opens in April. Well, that’s good, “I’ll put it on the back burner and if it reappears in April then I’ll consider it. Fine. Buh-bye.” I tried to stop thinking about it and I stopped talking about it to everyone. If I were supposed to do this then it would work itself out.

About a week later an aquaintance posted on her facebook page that the Red Thread International Craft Bazaar was looking for vendors. I checked with her, and yes they had baked goods last year—just submit an application and they would let me know. Oh well, what the heck, so I did.

Yesterday I got an email saying if I wanted to join in an extra core class (for my coaching program) I could. Same weekend as the cupcake thing. I thought, “Well, if I don’t hear back in the next couple of days, I’ll sign up for the extra training.” Last night, I got an email that my vendor application was accepted. I found out there were 300 people that came last year.

The Cupcake Saga continues…

Last night I dreamed about selling cupcakes at the event. I was talking to the people I was selling to. I had my business cards and a banner on the front of the table with my logo. I woke up still thinking, “I just don’t see how this makes sense…”

This morning I had my coaching session with an older student coach in my program. I always get off the phone feeling completely empowered. I know I’m on the right path with my life, even if that path doesn’t always currently gel with reality. I’m going with what I’m being told and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s all going to work out. I just have to keep the faith that my inner voice has never led me astray.

I signed the vendor application. As I was tucking it into the envelope it struck me like a bolt of lightning. I’m always talking when I see myself behind my logo banner selling cupcakes. I’m talking, talking, talking. Do you know what I’m doing? No, I'm not really there to sell cupcakes. My inner voice is smarter than I gave her credit for. She knew about a really big piece of growth that I needed. She knew how ingrained the fear was. She knew all of this and she gave me cupcakes to pave the way. So, what am I actually doing? I’m learning to speak about who I am, what I do, what I believe. I’m learning to speak about myself in a positive way. I’m learning to speak to others. I’m learning to speak. 

Holy cow.

I’m learning to speak.

Through the Magic Fairy Cupcake Dust that spreads good will, and opens the hearts of even the most hardened TSA employees, I will be able to look people in the eye and say, “Hi I’m Julia. I’m a Reiki practioner, have you ever tried Reiki? My logo? My horse and I are healers in training. Here’s my card, check out my website…”

And given that I’ve spent my life at what feels like half power, not believing in myself, not seeing my value, not thinking I had something to offer—well, learning to speak up and speak out is a big damn deal.

My inner voice was right, again :-)

He chose Joy

Luke, August 2013

Today was Luke's crossing. The vet was scheduled for 9:30. I got to the barn early and when I drove up he was looking at me, alert, head high, ears up. He seemed ready. I stuck an apple in my pocket, kleenex, and the three essential oil blends I had chosen for today: Trauma Life, Peace and Calming, and Joy.

On Saturday I took out Trauma Life and Peace and Calming. I opened them both and let Luke take a whiff. He chose Peace and Calming by nearly eating the cap out of my hand. I rubbed a few drops into my hands, held them out to him and he took several long, deep breaths. His eyes softened, his head drooped. I did some Reiki with him. Interestingly he had no interest in his body being worked on, just his head. I held his head and cried. In typical Luke fashion he held his nose to my nose and we breathed each other in for a few breaths. He loved to have me hold my hands still in front of his forehead and use them as a scratching post for the long plane of his face. He would quickly raise and lower his head, angling his head this way and that so all his favorite places would be reached. Saturday was no different, I was his "tree in the pasture" for a horse that had never lived in a field. When he was finished he held his nose to my cheek.

This morning when I looked at the oils before I left, I chose the same Trauma Life and Peace and Calming and stuck them in my purse but just before I turned to go Joy called out to me. "Really? This is not a joyous occasion." but the feeling was insistent so I slipped it into my purse with the others.

I retrieved Luke's halter and went into his pen. I took out the Trauma Life and Peace and Calming and opened them for Luke to smell. He preferred the Peace and Calming. I put Trauma Life away and opened Joy and let him smell the two oils.

Luke chose Joy.

Oh so fitting. He wasn't traumatized by his imminent transition. In the seven months I've known him, Luke has always chosen Joy. In the face of his past, he chose Joy. He had been a racehorse, a pony horse on the track, a cow horse, and a jumper. He had been used, as horses most often are, for what his body could do for a human. He was a big horse, 17.1 hands. I was told by his owner and vet that he grew too big too fast. He suffered from "big horse, small feet" issues. He had fractured a bone in the navicular area and "over healed", which caused arthritis to slowly saw away at his tendons causing him pain. Six months ago I would take him out for a hand walk and there was barely a sign of injury. He was full of piss and vinegar, startling and hopping around at the tiniest blowing leaf. After a couple of months he was allowed to be in a small grassy turnout pasture. He hated to be left alone so I stayed with him. Often he would let off steam, galloping around the pasture, his snorts and clumps of grass filling the air. I would laugh out loud and he would flag his tail. He was big and beautiful and full of life. Full of joy.

His owner came by this morning to tell me that the vet would do "it" outside of his pen and to gently remind me that this was for the best, so he wouldn't continue to suffer. She said I might as well take him into the barn where I was out of the cold and snow. Luke sniffed noses with all his old barn buddies. The barn was quiet and warmer. Oscar had left to hay the horses in pens and we were left alone inside. I pulled off my gloves and Luke went right to my hands again, soaking in the Joy. I put a few more drops in my hands and suddenly felt compelled to waft the oils over him. Luke stood perfectly still while I held my cupped hands in front of me and gently blew the aroma of Joy all over him. Across his crown chakra, down his back, over his root chakra, down his legs, around the other side to do the same, ending back at his head where I placed my hands on his crown chakra and third eye. He dropped his head and breathed.

Knowing how much he loved the outdoors I decided to brave the cold and snow so his last moments with me could be in the open. I found his favorite patch of grass under the snow and brushed it off. We could never go on a walk without stopping there first. Why some of the grass is still green in January is a mystery to me. He ate and I just stood with him, mentally telling him I loved him, telling him the steps that the vet would take and then he would be free. I said I wished he would lie down after sedation because, selfishly, it would be easier for me. He continued to eat and emanate peace. Earlier in the week I had cried through the process of using the stem sentences, "I regret..., I will always remember..." etc. I felt complete. There wasn't anything left to say or do. The vet arrived.

The process had been explained to me many times over the last week. I knew what to expect. I knew what I hoped. Luke was sedated and within a minute his head and eyes were drooping. I couldn't speak out loud to him without screaming sobs so I spoke to him in the way that was best anyway, in my head. I stroked him while the vet gave him the last shot. She took the lead rope out of my hands and braced herself. But Luke didn't go over like a tree and paddle his feet like I had been warned. No. He slowly sank to his haunches like he was sitting and then rolled gently over to his side. Gracefully. Peacefully. I sat next to his head and dripped tears into his coat. He blinked a few times and just breathed and then he was gone from his body.

I had a good cry by myself in the barn and then headed out to see Rayn and the herd. The horses were eating and doing the typical herd thing-jockeying for position around the hay piles. I went to Rayn and said hi, she reached her nose toward my hand and then jerked back and walked away to another pile. Not normal behavior for her. I wondered what she was thinking. I sat with the horses for awhile and eventually Rayn came back to me. It was too cold to spend much time out there so I headed back across the fields to the barn. As I left the last horse behind in the pasture I felt something. To my right I saw Luke. He was much younger, a two or three year old maybe. Bold and beautiful, he trotted next to me, head high, ears pricked, bright eyed, laughing, and still full of joy.