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.