In the summer of 2019, I rebuilt my homeopathy practice in a small town an hour outside Toronto. I had taken a break of about 18 months, during which I wasn’t working much. I was renovating a large house, caring for three young children, and trying to set up life in a new town. I was pretty overwhelmed.
But finally, by that summer, I had a little practice going. I felt so happy with it. I felt so satisfied to be back in this medicine I loved so dearly.
Then, that summer, I had an aggravation of the concussion I hadn’t yet fully healed. I was very dizzy for several days. I did all the things I usually do, but it wasn’t getting better. So, I was lying on the outdoor couch, listening to an audiobook, "The Big Leap" by Gay Hendricks.
That book talks about your zone of excellence. And somehow, as I was listening, I asked myself, “Is being a Homeopath in my zone of excellence?” I felt like it was in a good zone, and sometimes a very good zone. But was it what I was most excellent at?
A small voice came to me as I tuned into the dizziness. I asked, “What is it that you want of me? Why am I still lying on this couch?” And the voice said, Pause your homeopathy practice.
At the time, I thought that was the absolute craziest thing I had ever heard. I finally had enough patients. I felt like I was a working homeopath again. And the voice said, Pause your practice.
Pause my practice? Why on earth would I do that?
Then I saw a flash of these notebooks I had forgotten about. I had been keeping them after sessions with patients, writing everything I wished I could have taught them if I had had more time. But, I needed all my time to take their case, prescribe their remedy, and keep track of their health.
In the end, I had all this wisdom I wanted to share, things I knew would help them, but I didn’t have the time.
I saw an image of those notebooks, so I got up, found them, and started reading.
I realized that what I had written in those notebooks was me in my zone of excellence!
There’s a way I know how to teach people how to feel what’s under their ailments and how to heal, and it combines all of my life experience in ways I never could have imagined.
When I tuned back in, I saw an image of me pausing my practice and doing something with those books. So even though it was tough, I asked my office mate to cover my practice for three months.
Over the course of those three months, I developed a course using the material from the notebooks. At the end, I invited seven women from my homeopathy practice to join this intensive program, which I then called the Life Transformation Intensive.
And it really was intense. We did a lot of group sessions, individual sessions, and lots and lots of online modules. I built 80 modules for the course.
At the end of the seven weeks, I witnessed a level of transformation in these women that was beyond my wildest imagination of what was possible. I was in awe of our power to heal ourselves. I knew that teaching this work was what I was supposed to be doing.
For a while, I tried to do both. I went back to being a homeopath and continued teaching. Many of my patients began booking additional sessions where we could focus on feeling what was under their ailments.
Eventually, I came to a junction. I was booked for more somatic therapy hours than I was for homeopathy. To stay registered as a homeopath, you must work a certain number of hours.
I always liked being a homeopath. But I loved, loved, loved the somatic work.
That’s the story of why I stopped practicing homeopathy.
I partnered with two homeopaths I trust deeply and referred my somatic therapy clients to them. I still love homeopathy and turn to remedies for many things in my life. But I followed the advice from The Big Leap and chose what made my heart sing the most.
Right now, I love my work so much that sometimes it feels too good to be true. And that’s a very privileged place to be with one’s work.
That decision in 2019 was the beginning of what I now teach. The work continues to evolve through everything I write and offer here. I could never have arrived here with only my mind's guidance.
Have you ever followed a small inner voice, even when it didn’t make logical sense? What did it lead you toward?