Losing Myself and Other Miracles

By Lynne Katherine Bouchard

While others are busy trying to find themselves, Lynne Bouchard is happily losing herself. This is what she refers to as letting go of ego, and learning to trust her inner guidance and the wisdom of her higher self. Losing Myself and Other Miracles is a collection of short stories, insights, and poetry that allow you to tag along on her journey of freedom from ego, worry, and self-doubt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jan 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982261818

Lynne Katherine Bouchard

While there are many words to describe Lynne Bouchard, boring is not one of them. Losing both parents in a car accident when she was eight, Lynne was immediately thrown into a new life, where she struggled to fit in. Her search for truth and meaning led her on many adventures that would bring heartbreak, hilarity, and eventually healing. She lives with her two dogs, Pierre, and Pascal, in Southern Maryland where she teaches private piano lessons, dabbles in interior decorating, acting, and gardening. She is the author of the inspirational memoir, Through the Stained Glass Window.

Book preview

My Prayer

The world is my church,

where the people I meet

are sages and goddesses,

mystics and priests.

Religions may conquer

and doctrines divide,

but who’s keeping score?

Who’s taking sides?

We’re in this together—

the great and the small.

Each one unique

and part of the All.

Let kindness and grace

be our daily prayer.

Let peace and compassion

define who we are.

This is my hope;

this is my prayer:

that love finally conquers

and unites us all here.

1

The Unbelievably High Cost

of Health Insurance

Life shrinks or expands in

proportion to one’s courage.

—Anais Nin

Of all the liars in the world, sometimes

the worst are our own fears.

—Rudyard Kipling

I have found it to be next to impossible to work a normal nine-to-five job where I must answer to a boss, follow rules, and wear proper going-to-the-office clothing, so for thirty-two years, I have supported myself—and raised two daughters—primarily by teaching piano lessons from my home studio. I set my own hours, teach in blue jeans and boots, and answer to no one but myself. I can’t even begin to tell you how awesome this is. But every once in a while, that responsible-adult, follow-the-rules-or-else-you-will-be-sorry voice crops up in my head and tells me in no uncertain terms that I am headed for financial ruin and eventual homelessness.

About six years ago, when that voice was being particularly whiny, it finally broke me down, and I applied for a part-time teaching position at a private school, thinking that would be a fun and easy way to make a little extra money and qualify for good and affordable health insurance. What could go wrong?

Well, to begin with, at my job interview, I was told I was overqualified for the position, and while they couldn’t afford to pay me what I was worth, they said they would love to have me join the team.

I should have listened intently to that sentence, because when they said they couldn’t pay me what I was worth, they meant it. A week before school started, after I had decorated my classroom and made my lesson plans for the year, I took my first paycheck back to the classroom, opened the envelope, and burst into tears. After taxes, I realized I was going to be bringing home less than what I spent on groceries for a month—and I wasn’t going to qualify for health insurance until the following year.

Two weeks later, I developed a huge growth on my neck, which ended up being a rare genetic defect that had been lying dormant my entire life but now needed to be removed immediately. Did I mention I didn’t have the health insurance yet?

Things were not off to a great start.

To be fair, I really did love the children, and I made some exceptional friends during my four years at the school. I taught with joy and enthusiasm and was repaid with smiles, sticky hugs, and macaroni necklaces—all of which are priceless. But I was also sick almost constantly. No matter how many times I washed my hands or how much Airborne I drank, I caught every cold or flu virus that came around.

Then, in the beginning of my third year, I discovered a lump on my right breast. By Thanksgiving, I had had a lumpectomy, and by Christmas, I was recovering from my first round of chemo.

I will discuss this whole cancer story in more detail later, but for now, the point is simply this: I was so afraid of not having enough money for good health insurance that I took a job I really didn’t need primarily on the basis of that fear. Because I was so fixated on that health insurance, my body responded by making sure I really needed it. I kept getting sicker and sicker, until I was faced with the worst possible scenario. This is the law of attraction at its finest—or its worst, depending on your perspective.

I was on disability leave for the majority of the year that I battled cancer but returned to work full-time the following school year, because I am apparently a slow learner. I was still recovering from the fatigue and lingering side effects of chemo and radiation, and that final year at the school was a doozy. I collapsed, exhausted, in my car at the end of a particularly stressful day and thought to myself, This is why people kill themselves. At that moment, I knew I would not be returning the next year. I no longer cared about the health insurance or the tiny amount of money I was making at the job. I was finally beginning to realize that I was literally killing myself for those things. I knew down deep in the part of myself not connected to ego, false stories, or unnecessary worry that there had to be a better way to live and a more authentic and healthful reality.

Of course, there was. I just had to let go of my fears and that nagging, whiny voice that likes to tell me I am irresponsible and a failure. I needed to follow my GPS.

Weeping Willows

Outside my window, weeping willows

drop their tears on grassy pillows.

Clouds of pink draw down their shades

as twilight comes and daylight fades.

And I, within my four gray walls,

sit and gaze as evening falls.

For every tear the willows cry,

a new star bursts upon the sky

to twinkle hope on we who gaze

from four gray walls and lonely days,

and wipe the tears we weep like willows,

silently into our pillows.

When the first light of the sun appears,

the willow trees have dried their tears.

The world is hopeful, bright, and new,

sparkling like the morning dew.

And I, who wept alone at night,

arise to walk into the light.

2

Grasping at the Shadows

Beware lest you lose the substance

by grasping at the shadows.

—Aesop

Let me make one thing perfectly clear right now. When I made the decision to resign my job at the school, I was in no way feeling warm and fuzzy about my future or my financial situation. I was still pretty certain that once I gave up the security of that job, even though I was being paid pennies and the job was making me sick, I would find myself destitute and one step away from selling pencils on the street corner. So before I turned in my official resignation, I decided I needed a fresh plan in place—something wonderful and exciting to supplement my piano-teaching income. Whatever it was, I knew it would not involve my working for anyone else ever again.

Believing the old adage that if you do what you love, you will never work a day in your life, I decided I needed to find something I loved as much as music, and honestly, it took me about thirty seconds to figure that out. One of my favorite pastimes is home decorating; I had been rearranging furniture since I was seven, constantly trying to improve my bedroom and convince my parents to move the living room furniture around. I got on the internet, and by the end of the day, I had signed up for a course in home staging and