Slowing Down, Trusting the Inner Voice

The other day, I visited a spot here in Mendocino that I go to often. It’s a secluded path along the ocean, where there is a vast expanse of open meadows with gentle rolling hills, spotted with patches of yellow, purple, and white wild flowers softly blended against the swaying golden-green grasses. The meadows flow gracefully into the Pacific Ocean, where rocky cliffs, tide pools, and the distant yelping of seals join the two worlds. It reminds me of something out of a fairytale. I listened to the waves and watch cloud kingdoms of grey and white move across the sky. The air was cool and misty, and the golden sun casts its rays upon the water, making the ocean dance in a dazzling display of light.

I found myself reflecting on this sort of awkward, “in-between” phase of life that I am in. It feels a little bit like being in limbo. I’ve spent the past few years in a bit of survival mode, feeling like I had to push against a lot of things. Pushing myself to get “out there” as an artist, pushing against a lifetime of insecurities to get in front of audiences to speak, and pushing myself into adulthood, into trying to make money and support myself. Not to mention bouncing around trying to find a “home,” from living isolated in the forest to houses full of partying college kids in loud bustling cities, trying to uncover who I am, where I belong, and what I actually have to offer the world. I’ve met some beautiful people along the way, but for the most part, it’s been a pretty solitary journey.

But now, I find myself at another turning point. I find myself safe, grounded, and stable for the first time in years. I’m recovering from the desperacy of survival, and actually starting to trust where I am. I feel almost like a feral animal being brought into a safe domestic home for the first time, still a bit skittish out of necessity to survive, but slowly learning to trust the generous hands that feed it.

I am thankful for the openness in my life now. Moving around helped to break me open, to shed layers, to reinvent myself, but then it began to feel like a distraction from the real work that needed to be done. Rather than scurrying around bouncing from place to place, there’s space to go inward. Space to heal. To feel. To trust.

Things are much slower now. And the “slowness” has been an interesting thing to work with. It’s very nourishing, but then at times I wonder if it’s too much, if I am being deceived by it in some way. Sometimes I wonder if I should be making bold leaps and strides into the career realm, into making more money, into this or that. But as these thoughts come over me, a strong yet very gentle voice begins whispering in my ear, speaking to me of patience and acceptance. It tells me to honor where I am, the phase that I am in, and to absorb as much as I can from the moments that are put before me. It tells me to honor the process, and that I am in the midst of greater rhythms and cycles than my mind can even comprehend. It tells me that there’s still a very long road ahead of me, and that I don’t need to “skip steps” to make it where I would like to go.

This stern and gentle voice has been with me for a long time. My path being as solitary as it has, it’s been my best friend, and my greatest companion. It’s been there when no-one else has, and it’s always offered me unconditional acceptance and support. It’s nurtured me in my darkest hours, and it’s given me courage when I was sure that I had none. It was with me when I was homeless and heartbroken sleeping on the streets, when I mustered up the courage to give my first talks, and even as a young child I remember it speaking to me, leading me into my early interests with animals and the natural world. I remember it also surrounding my early curiosities around God. It has only ever spoken to me in a loving context. I’m amazed that I still continue to question it at times…

One of the greatest things that I can think of to do with my life, would be to honor this voice, by extending its love and its wisdom… To give it complete freedom of expression.

If I could move through enough fear, enough doubt, and move through enough self-judgment in order to allow this voice to speak openly with conviction, to extend to others the wellspring of love, compassion, and support that this mysterious voice has extended to me, then that would be my greatest gift.