Take the hint, follow the nudge

On the energy of ram and following the slightly crazy breadcrumbs of guidance that show up to help you lead the life you are here to live.

Ram watercolor and ink, Nona Jordan 2024

Big Horn Sheep are majestic creatures. 

I was determined that this ram (male big horn sheep) painting had to have the right feel to honor these beautiful animals and their energy. This was my third ram painting and the process so clearly reflected the questions I was asking and the choice I was struggling to make. During the time I was painting them, I was deciding whether or not I was going to go on medication to help slow or stop the development of new brain lesions for my recent diagnosis of M.S. The first two paintings reflected my fear and confusion. This strong, grounded ram emerged the day I decided to take the medication. 

Ram, your wise medicine is welcome here. 

The day after I finished this painting (and made my choice), it felt like a nod from the universe to see the big horn sheep that often frequent Garden of the Gods—a small herd grazing right at the park's entrance. Despite how often I go to the Garden, I had unbelievably never seen them. Seeing them reminded me of their agility and adaptability to different environments. Most notably, they live in and navigate some of the Earth's most dangerous mountain terrain with strength and grace. It is their ability to go places that other creatures can’t go that provides safety and also sustenance in treacherous conditions. 

Associated with Gate 7 in Human Design and the Gene Keys, the ram represents the gift frequency of guidance. My first understanding of this particular Gene Key was that those with this key in their charts carry a natural capacity for leadership and the gift of guiding others, which is true. However, another aspect of this Gene Key and the Ram has emerged recently. To be a resourceful guide for others, first, you must be open to receiving guidance for yourself. 

But first, you might (probably will) ignore it.

When I was just nineteen, I was driving on a back road one dark, foggy evening. My back — at the base of my ribcage — began to seize up on either side of my spine. I had never felt anything like it. The tight squeeze and contraction kept getting tighter until it felt like I had a belt wrapped around my middle. I couldn’t breathe – it was so tight. I remember gripping the steering wheel and trying to keep my body as still as possible - like a prey animal trying to play dead when it’s in the jaws of a predator.

I remember this in such detail because the pain was so intense, and the fog was so thick I could barely see the lines of the two-lane road. There was no shoulder, and the road dropped off precipitously into fields. I was terrified that I would run off the road. Stopping seemed out of the question—if another car came, it wouldn’t see me until it was too late (that’s how thick the fog was), and there was nowhere to pull off the road safely.

At the time, I felt I had no choice but to endure the pain and continue to drive, trying to make out the faint lines that guided my path. Within five minutes, the squeeze began to ease, and by the time I reached my destination, I was shaken, but I brushed the incident off. It was the first of many of these episodes that I would have, and every time, I brushed it off and never mentioned it to anyone.

The surprising choice is often a miracle in disguise.

Fast forward to twenty-four years of age. It had been a month - I was experiencing a persistent, annoying twitch under my left eye. At the time, I was a very unhappy and stressed-out undergraduate student, slogging through the last of my classes in international business. I thought the persistent twitch was a byproduct of my absolute disdain for my undergraduate studies. I believed yoga would help reduce stress, so I signed up for a yoga class at school.

I fell in love.

The sun streamed in the arched windows of the room in the Women’s Studies building. I could see moats of dust dancing in the light as I lay down at the end of class. In Shavasana, tears streamed down my face as I landed in my body for the first time in many years. I was hooked. I bought myself a mat. Incredibly enough, there was exactly ONE color (light blue) - our teacher brought a huge roll into class and hand-cut our mats for us. I studied yoga philosophy. I started to meditate. I practiced regularly at home. I subscribed to Yoga Journal.

As a Yoga Journal subscriber, I felt like a “real” yogini—I devoured each issue. I subscribed for years, yet I remember literally nothing from the many issues that I read cover to cover. But there was one issue that I still remember from 1994 or 1995—in fact, I kept that issue for years and years. There was a woman on the cover in a modified reclining hand-to-big-toe pose, and she was the subject of the main article.

An article about how this woman managed her M.S. symptoms with yoga.

We rarely know when events are catalysts.

According to my neurologist, that terrifying event on a foggy country road that I brushed off when I was nineteen was likely my first M.S. hug. I didn’t know when that magazine article captivated me, that I had M.S. I just knew I was inspired and deeply affected by her devotion to caring for her body. I wanted that. No, I longed for that. I knew that was my path - body, mind, and soul. 

My devotion to healing and building physical and spiritual practices that I enjoy and that nourish my well-being has often struck me (and probably others) as a bit much - I’ve often wondered why I’ve felt so compelled to do things others see as rigid. The day I sat in the neurologist's office and looked at the “moderate to advanced” lesion load in my brain, the first thing I thought about was that article so many years ago. I didn’t even know I had M.S., but something in me, or something greater than me, was guiding me in the direction that would help me help myself and, more importantly, cherish and love my body. I listened. 

We are always being guided (even when we don’t know it).

I had parts of my life to live that would not have been possible with a diagnosis of M.S. I had deep healing to do before I could love my body in the face of a difficult diagnosis. When I look back from nineteen until now, I am astonished - the mystery symptoms are no longer a mystery. Every lifestyle shift advised by the experts to help support the health and functioning of a body with M.S.? I’ve been doing them for years with joy and devotion, not with fear or under the duress of a scary diagnosis. 

What does this next chapter hold? I’ve had moments of fear and confusion with the revelation of M.S., to be sure. However, I feel curious and excited when I consider the magical synchronicities that have littered my life's path. There is meaning to be made, wisdom to be shared, joy to be experienced, and so much more of the world, this life, to be explored, and I’m here for it. I am led by grace at every step of the way. So are you. 

Contemplate Ram for yourself. 

If Ram has shown up in the wilds of your terrain, you are a natural leader, and many look to you for guidance grounded in truth. However, it is time for you to listen for guidance beyond your current understanding. Leaders lead best when they remain open to follow in some form or fashion. Jump off the beaten path and open your heart and mind. What is presenting itself to you and piquing your curiosity is for you right now. Is it a spiritual teacher? A class? A book? Maybe an oracle card deck or even a meditation practice where you can let the wisdom of the more than human world lead you. Pay attention to the unexpected teachers who are trying to get your attention on the path. Now is the time to open to the guidance you need to uplevel your leadership and thrive in this next chapter of your life.