Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory (part 8)

My answer was right in front of me; it had nothing to do with Thomas. But I wasn’t ready to see it , so I was unable to know the truth. It would take another two years before I was quiet enough to allow my answer to surface from my soul. Until then, I went in circles; I focused on the problem. And the more I focused on it, the worse it became.

Probably the most interesting aspect of this project was the way it unfolded. Spirit had a plan. But I was too close to the big picture to see it. I was concentrating on the details, listening, learning, writing and revising the things I had written. Did I mention how this book was produced? I did it the old fashioned way–journal style- with a legal pad in my lap and a pen in my hand. On average I went through twenty legal pads per chapter. I didn’t realize it until after the fact, but one day I remembered something. This was the studying method I had used in high school. I would write things over and over again in order to memorize them. Where did all of this writing happen? Every once in a while I had to deviate from my routine, but mostly I took dictation in the living room. Spirit spoke to me, while I sat in an old brown recliner that squeaked when I put the foot rest up.

When the spiritual information stopped coming, I knew the test wasn’t far away. Writing the lesson down was one thing. Applying it to my life was another. It looked easy on paper, but abstract metaphysical concepts weren’t always easy to recognize in the physical world.

Silent Voices of the Soul: The Backstory (part 7)

Another story stands out in my mind. It happened a long time ago, while I was working on the energy chapter. I was in the kitchen. My then two-year-old son, Thomas, was in the living room. He was watching TV, while I was making lunch for him. Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, he had managed to unlock the front door and run away. Fortunately, I heard the door close behind him. But by the time I had reached the end of the driveway, he had run to the corner.

It was a cold, rainy spring day. I was chasing my son barefoot because I didn’t have time to put my shoes on. Thomas was screaming. Neighbors were staring. And I was sure that the woman who I had seen talking on a cell phone, was now reporting me to the police. Somehow I caught up with Thomas and carried him home in the pouring rain. He was kicking and screaming the entire time.

When I reached our driveway, I remembered that I had an appointment. So I grabbed a pair of shoes and put Thomas, who was crying hysterically at this point, in his car seat. After I fastened his seat belt, I sat down in the front seat and closed my eyes to calm my nerves. Then I made myself breathe, and while I was breathing, I prayed for guidance and patience.

This kind of thing had happened before. In fact, it was happening every day. I was sleep deprived, depressed, stressed out and at my wit’s end. I didn’t have any coping skills left. I wasn’t handling this situation very well. I needed to figure out what to do.

As I was backing out of the driveway, I turned on the radio. I had tuned in to the perfect song at the perfect time. The music calmed me down. The words warmed my heart–”There will be an answer, let it be.”

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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.