Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory (part 3)

My morning routine was something I looked forward to as much as having my first cup of coffee. I always wondered what I’d be writing about. Sometimes it seemed like there would be nothing to say about my life. But I wrote anyway. Many times I wrote about how grateful I was to be having a cup of coffee in silence, to be enjoying a quiet moment alone while everyone else in the house slept. Then ideas suddenly came into my head. I looked out the window and watched the sky gradually lighten from black to gray to blue. I listened to the birds singing in the trees and watched the squirrels climb up the dogwood tree as if they were playing some kind of game. Poetry took shape in my mind as I looked out the window. Words came. I wrote them down. Then Spirit took my hand and gave me a glimpse of what I was seeing from a Higher Perspective, from a metaphorical point of view.

As a poet, I have always seen life as a metaphor. That’s just the way my mind has always worked. I have always seen things from the perspective of an objective observer, someone who is standing across the room, viewing things from a distance. At the same time, I have always felt life very deeply. I have always been deeply sensitive to the people and things around me. You name it and I can feel it; my greatest strength is my biggest weakness.

Writing put me in a meditative state of mind. It quieted the noise and allowed me to connect with the highest part of me. The more I wrote, I quieter my mind became. The quieter I made my mind, the easier it was to hear the silent voices speak.

At first I thought there was just one voice, but soon other personalities made themselves known to me–every energy had a different way of expressing itself. They had things to say. They needed someone to write them down. I was listening, and I was holding a pen in my hand. It was the perfect arrangement. They were my teachers. I was the student.

As silent as these voices were, I was able to “hear” them. They spoke from the center of my soul. They whispered amazing things to me, things I had never thought about, things that had never ever entered my mind. They told me to pay close attention to the world around me, that is was a reflection of the world within me.

I have always believed that these beings were once writers–people who had written books but were never able to bring them to the world. Maybe their lives were cut short. Maybe they never finished what they had started. Maybe they knew me at another time in a different place, and we had agreed to meet up in this lifetime to collaborate on a spiritual project. As I am writing, chills are traveling across my shoulders and up my arms; Spirit is saying that what I am telling you is true. That’s our signal.

Regardless of whatever pact we had made in a past life, I knew I needed to listen to my teachers and write down the lessons. I knew I needed to record everything that was coming into my head–every insight that was finding me. I wrote things down exactly as they were given to me. And if I tried to make a correction, if I tried to edit their words, if I questioned anything they said, the lesson abruptly came to an end. Eventually I understood that this relationship was based on trust.They trusted me to write down their messages. I needed to trust that what they were telling me was the truth.

Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory (part 2)

Time was the operative word here. I wasn’t confident at first. I didn’t trust the messages that were somehow appearing in the notebook I was holding in my lap. My pen was moving across the paper so fast that I could barely read the writing. Words were magically appearing in front of me. Deeply meaningful phrases and sentences and paragraphs were being written, but it didn’t feel like I was writing them.

Over the years I had written poetry and a few short stories. But this wasn’t that kind of writing. I have a certain style; clearly, this one wasn’t mine.The notebook I was holding held definitions of things I had never heard of before: energy and intention, transition, transformation and truth…. It was as if I had hired a private tutor to teach me spiritual awareness.

There were some unspoken rules; I learned how to channel the hard way. I wasn’t allowed to think. I wasn’t allowed to analyze. I wasn’t allowed to ask any questions– to try to figure anything out while the channeling session was in progress. If I did, there were immediate repercussions. The information stopped flowing. The silent voice stopped speaking. And then I would have to wait until my mind was quiet enough to resume the silent conversation Spirit had started. My mind was anything but quiet then. Sometimes it took days before I was receptive again.

Channeling gradually became a part of my morning routine. I poured myself some coffee, propped a notebook in my lap, grabbed something to write with and waited for Spirit to find me. There was a warming up exercise to get me in the mood. I wrote in my journal. I wrote about my life in my own voice–whatever was happening at the time. I wrote about my hopes and fears, my desires and dreams. I wrote about getting my driver’s license at age 35 and having my second child when I was 40. I wrote about all the old friends that were leaving my life and the new ones that had taken their place. I wrote and wrote and wrote…and then Spirit wrote back to me.

I had no idea that I was writing the book Spirit had spoken of. But I was grateful to be writing again, and more than grateful to write down every word that was being whispered to me. I knew something significant was taking place, that my guides were guiding my hand and that the information I was receiving was important. As chills traveled through my body, I knew I was learning about truth…to be continued.

Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory

Twelve years ago I was sitting at my computer in silence, staring at a blank screen. I hadn’t written anything in years, not since college. But something was telling me to write, and I knew I needed to do as I was told. I recognized the voice that was speaking to me. It was the voice I heard while I was doing my psychic work–the energy that provided me with information about other people’s lives. But this time was different. This time that voice was not only speaking to me, it was also speaking about me.

“You’re going to write a book and we are going to help you,” the silent voice said. At first, I laughed. I had no idea what they were talking about. I thought they had made a mistake. Then there was a very long pause. They said nothing. It was silent, and in the silence I realized they were not joking.

Had I asked my guides to help me write a book? I didn’t have any recollection of it if I had. On and off over the years I had been keeping journals. But lately it had been more off than on. I missed writing. I knew it was something that fed my soul. But at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a pen. I was too tired and depressed to write, too afraid of what would come out of my pen if I tried. I can say that now. At the time I didn’t know how sad I was. I was too busy feeling other peoples emotions to feel my own.

I was a psychic, then. I spent my time tuning into other people’s energies, picking up their vibrations, telling them all about their lives–what had happened to them yesterday, what was happening now, and what was going to happen tomorrow. I thought I liked what I was doing. But the truth was, I was lying to myself and didn’t even know it. Deep down I knew I needed to give people more than what I was giving them. I needed to do more for them than what I was doing. My work made me feel empty; something was missing and Spirit knew it.

The silent voice startled me. I was holding my coffee mug in my hands when it fell to the floor. That’s how startled I was. The whisper intrigued me. Yet at the same time, it scared the hell out of me. How could I write a book? What would it be about? How, exactly, were they planning to help me?

“Thanks for the offer,” I said. “I really, really appreciate it. But I don’t think I’m the person you are looking for. And there are some things you need to know about me before we continue this conversation. For instance, I am a terrible procrastinator. My follow through skills are worse, and I am really, really, really hard on myself.”

“Perfect, ” they said.

That was the conversation. After the one word reply, I heard nothing in my head. At the time I was annoyed because I had so many questions. But Spirit in its infinite wisdom knew me. My higher self understood me to my core. “Perfect” was the perfect answer.

I wasn’t kidding when I told my guides I thought they had made a mistake. At the time, I thought it was the truth. I didn’t know how to write a book. I didn’t have anything to write about. I didn’t have time. I didn’t have patience. I didn’t have energy…. My list of excuses was long and wide. It went on and on and on… Fear consumed me; Spirit couldn’t have reached me if it tried. In order for that to happen, I needed to listen to my heart. I needed some time to get out of my head.

I’m not sure how much time passed before I bought a notebook, probably a month or more. One day I was shopping and put one in my cart. A few days later I started writing again. But this time, the writing was different. The words that came out of my pen had a different rhythm and cadence. I knew were not my own. This voice was very different than my voice. Words were coming through me, but it was clear that they were not coming from me. A spiritually intelligent energy had taken over and was writing about truths I didn’t yet understand. Something inside me told me to keep writing, so I did. And as much as I wanted to know what the words meant, I knew I needed to be patient. I knew I would know in time…to be continued.

Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory

May 09 2009
Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory

Published by robin under spiritual awakening, spiritual awareness, spiritual guidance, truth Edit This

Twelve years ago I was sitting at my computer in silence, staring at a blank screen. I hadn’t written anything in years, not since college. But something was telling me to write, and I knew I needed to do as I was told. I recognized the voice that was speaking to me. It was the voice I heard while I was doing my psychic work–the energy that provided me with information about other people’s lives. But this time was different. This was the first time that voice had ever talked to me about me.

“You’re going to write a book and we are going to help you,” the silent voice said. At first, I laughed. I had no idea what they were talking about. I thought they had made a mistake. Then there was a very long pause. They said nothing. It was silent, and in the silence I realized they were not joking.

Had I asked my guides to help me write a book? I didn’t have any recollection of it if I had. On and off over the years I had been keeping journals. But lately it had been more off than on. I missed writing. I knew it was something that fed my soul. But at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to pick up a pen. I was too tired and depressed to write, too afraid of what would come out of my pen if I tried. I can say that now. At the time I didn’t know how sad I was. I was too busy feeling other peoples emotions to feel my own.

I was a psychic, then. I spent my time tuning into other people’s energies, picking up their vibrations, telling them all about their lives–what had happened to them yesterday, what was happening now, and what was going to happen tomorrow. I thought I liked what I was doing. But the truth was, I was lying to myself and didn’t even know it. Deep down I knew I needed to give people more than what I was giving them. I needed to do more for them than what I was doing. My work made me feel empty; something was missing and Spirit knew it.

The silent voice startled me. I was holding my coffee mug in my hands when it fell to the floor. That’s how startled I was. The whisper intrigued me. Yet at the same time, it scared the hell out of me. How could I write a book? What would it be about? How, exactly, were they planning to help me?

“Thanks for the offer,” I said. “I really, really appreciate it. But I don’t think I’m the person you are looking for. And there are some things you need to know about me before we continue this conversation. For instance, I am a terrible procrastinator. My follow through skills are worse, and I am really, really, really hard on myself.”

“Perfect, ” they said.

That was the conversation. After the one word reply, I heard nothing in my head. At the time I was annoyed because I had so many questions. But Spirit in its infinite wisdom knew me. My higher self understood me to my core. “Perfect” was the perfect answer.

I wasn’t kidding when I told my guides I thought they had made a mistake. At the time, I thought it was the truth. I didn’t know how to write a book. I didn’t have anything to write about. I didn’t have time. I didn’t have patience. I didn’t have energy…. My list of excuses was long and wide. It went on and on and on… Fear consumed me; Spirit couldn’t have reached if it tried. In order for that to happen, I needed to listen to my heart. I needed some time to get out of my head.

I’m not sure how much time passed before I bought a notebook, probably a month or more. One day I was shopping and put one in my cart. A few days later I started writing again. But this time, the writing was different. The words that came out of my pen had a different rhythm and cadence. I knew were not my own. This voice was very different than my voice. Words were coming through me, but it was clear that they were not coming from me. A spiritually intelligent energy had taken over and was writing about truths I didn’t yet understand. Something inside me told me to keep writing, so I did. And as much as I wanted to know what the words meant, I knew I needed to be patient. I knew I would know in time…to be continued.

About the Silent Voices...

As a spiritual healer, I feel a responsibility to share the things Spirit whispers to me– lessons I have spent my lifetime learning, life-changing things I believe to the depths of my being. Every day there is a new insight, a fresh way at looking at an old truth. And every day, I am blown away when it finds me. Every day, I am awed by the messages I receive.

I have a routine every morning. I grab a cup of coffee, a handful of paper from one of my old manuscripts, and a pen. Then, I just write. I write about my life from my heart, all the things that are happening to me and around me. I write about the dreams I had the night before. I write and write and write. And then something magical happens, the writing changes. Suddenly, spiritual messages stand out on the page. The words on paper have more than one meaning. Sometimes, they are layered with different meanings. Spirit shines a light on the truth in ways I was not aware of before, and chills race through my entire body as if I had just heard my favorite song.

This is something that happens every day, sometimes many times a day. And every time it happens it feels like I am experiencing it for the first time. It is a sacred and mindblowing event, yet at the same time it is completely effortless.

So what happens, you ask? How do I make the shift from being the writer to the one who just writes down the words that are whispered to her? It happens in between the writing, when I lift my pen from the page for a second. It happens unexpectedly. The me who is holding the pen hands it over to the all knowing energy who knows better. And suddenly the words come. They flow from my heart to my head and out of the pen I am holding. Do I hear a voice? Tough question. There is a voice, but do I actually hear it? No. The voice is silent. Somehow ideas and insights find me and I am able to turn them into words. It is as if someone is reading a book to me, like I am a secretary taking dictation.

Then, the miracle happens. The message comes. A word stands out above all the rest. A phrase gets turned in a different direction. A truth is revealed.

I want you to know that I feel very blessed to have this blog–this wonderful sharing place. Thank you so much for visiting. Thank you so much for listening! xxxooo Robin