I was lying in the woods that were my backyard. Years of fallen, unraked leaves cushioned the ground. I looked up at the gray sky through the trees with nearly empty branches. It was mid-March, and spring had not yet kicked in. I was there because my brain had become so noisy that I decided I could not stand it any longer. My intention was to slowly quiet it until it ceased to exist.
At some point in this process, the wind kicked up, and the dry leaves began to stir around me. The wind continued to blow, and as it grew in force, so did an awareness within me. I am not sure how, but I knew without a doubt that there existed a conscious, creative energy, and at that moment it was very upset with me. I did not hear a voice, but the message that filled my being was: “With all the gifts you have been given, how dare you give up?”
I shot upright, heart pumping, adrenaline surging. Within a minute, I was on my feet, walking toward my house. I never mentioned to anyone my attempt to silence my existence or the knowledge I received from the wind. But from that moment forward, I knew there existed a force outside myself that I could tap into for strength and guidance.
I believe we are all born with this innate, unconscious knowledge. I can recall the moment I began to lose touch with it. As a child, I remember feeling constantly watched. I sensed there were beings beyond physical manifestation observing and affirming everything I did. These unseen presences thought I was amazing. They recognized the pure intention behind my actions, and I felt warmed by their approval.
As a preteen, I remember thinking that I needed to stop interacting with my imaginary cheering section and start interacting in the “real world,” so I slowly silenced the encouraging voices in my head and began seeking validation from outside myself.
This was a chancy game. In my inner circle, I felt loved and safe, and in general, my interactions in society at large were positive and affirming. But without an anchor to my internal cheering section, my highly sensitive, deeply introspective nature caused me to be easily buffeted by others’ opinions and judgments. I began to shift, adapt, and alter myself. This marked the beginning of a slow separation from my center and what I knew to be true about myself. At some point, I started to internalize every negative opinion and judgment that was thrust upon me and to dismiss anything that was positive or affirming.
The noise I was trying to silence that day was the voices of others, and what I heard in the wind was the voice of Her.
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Email Lynn at: LynnCrockerCreative@gmail.com
Lynn Crocker Creative 