The Divine Path Appears Beneath the Feet of Souls Who Keep Walking

By Michael R. Smith, Ph.D.

Ah, mornings.

Legs over the bed, and then - without warning - spell, shattered. First, a jolt in my right knee. Then, a throb and a buckle. Followed by a scream. Within minutes my kneecap was approaching grapefruit proportions - and felt like scraping barbed wire.

And that’s how I wound up in the ER and sporting a pair of crutches. Another coyote detour. Again? These are the days I really wish I was still married.

Fate placed this orange cone squarely in my path exactly two weeks before my 7th annual spiritual retreat that I host here north of San Francisco. An event where a group is relying on me to traverse the forest - on foot - teaching how to communicate with trees, fairies, and elemental spirits. Spirit communication? Got that. But walking? With this knee? Hmmm.

I don’t take no for an answer. So I quickly decided. I’m getting better - fast. Wonder Twins powers, activate! If you get the reference, your knees probably hurt too.

Two weeks prior to this, Great Mystery unveiled another roadblock on destiny’s mercurial path. Somewhere between yawning and Yuban, I saw that my pup Akela was forcefully shaking his floppy Chocolate Lab ears. It’s been a 5 year journey since I rescued Akela. Probably lifetimes longer. I was told in a dream what to call him. In Hindi, it means ‘solitary one’.

On further inspection, his right ear was completely swollen. This does not look good. I dutifully gave him some leftover trazedone, hopped in my Subie en route to the vet, and then trickster that I am, quizzed him with ‘wanna see your friends?’ His ears perked, just enough, but with restraint. For real? Not quite.

Two hours into our veterinary journey - the damage? A full day surgery to remove a hematoma. $2400. And 3 weeks of healing in an e-collar.

I’m noticing more, er, contrast, than I have in quite some time.

A spiritual retreat participant needed to back out at the last minute. Subie needs a new catalytic converter. A neighbor is abusing alcohol due to an injury and I’ve twice had to lift his drunk body off the ground. I was pulled over by the cops twice in a two day span. For talking on a cell phone?

I am of the persuasion that the word fuck is thrown around too much.

But seriously, what the fuck?

(May that glorious English language workhorse never dim its shine).

When I was a teenager - within the span of about a year - my dad lost his job, my mom got early-onset Parkinson’s, our house burned down on Christmas, my sister got thrown in jail, and my brother had brain surgery for cancer.

My school counselor burst into tears when he asked me how I kept going. I just told him the only Truth that I knew: I placed all my faith in God. I only know one way. Trust in the Divine.

I choose Faith and Trust in Spirit when life’s challenges give me reason not to. I refuse to let a few potholes masquerade as destiny. As I birth my true artistic voice, the biggest epiphany of my year has been that I actually am a writer. The first place Colorado high school journalism awards in 1988, 1989, and 1990 should have taught me that.

But I can be a bit of a bonehead, and sometimes it takes a few cosmic course corrections. So I forge ahead with all of my plans to get off the C list. Podcasts, partnerships, and Oprah. Or something Oprah equivalent. I’m not picky.

Right now, there are many reasons to be careful. Evidence, bills, and logic all point toward caution and playing it safe. But I can’t live my life that way. I will continue to dream bigger than logic recommends. I will continue to create pathways for spiritual connection and healing like the Return to Wonder spiritual retreat that I am leading in Fiji over New Years 2027.

I will continue to smoke my sacred channuppa (Native American community pipe) and ask the Divine to bless everyone who crosses my path.

Namaste, by the way. That’s not an abstract concept to me. It’s real.

I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if my knee will cooperate. I don’t know what new surprises, or invoices, might be waiting.

But I have noticed something really interesting over the years:

The path appears beneath the feet of those who keep walking.

And so I smile, with a song in my Heart, uttering the most glorious word in the English language:

No, not that one. This one:

Onward.

Michael

For 20 years, Michael Smith, Ph.D. has served as a medium, channel, shamanic practitioner and spiritual guide. He offers private intensive spiritual mentoring sessions that are currently discounted for new clients.

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What unexpected detours has life offered you? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.