Not everything grows all the time. Sunflowers don’t grow in Oregon winters. And oranges don’t ripen in Florida until there’s a cold snap to ripen the fruit.
Yet in a life where you can order something online and have it delivered sometimes the very next day, and we often feel the pressing crush of keeping up with life in all its aspects — in our home, with our family and our social media presence — it’s easy to forget this.
I received an email the other day from a student who felt so blessed to find my courses on Udemy. She said she loved my lighthearted presence. I was touched by her email and also felt a sense of disconnect from the teacher she spoke about, from the person she thought I was. “Lighthearted presence, huh? Me?”
I haven’t felt so lighthearted the last couple of years. I haven’t been teaching classes or seeing clients. I’ve been curled up in protective mode, feeling the weight and concern of the matters of this physical realm. With teenagers, school and appointments. With my own health concerns.
In many ways, I haven’t felt very connected with Spirit. At least not in the ways I used to. I’ve been doing more physical labor, spending time in nature building raised hugelkulture beds, stacking logs in the forest from trees I cut down myself. Clearing land that’s been left to go wild with brambles and turning it into something else.
In Spiritualism, the second of the principles says, “We believe that the phenomena of nature, both physical and spiritual, are the expression of Infinite Intelligence.”
It means that all of life is an expression of Infinite Intelligence, of Spirit. Spirit is in everything. So you can be driving your car and be connected with Spirit, as all the parts of the car and the road once came from this Earth, even if they don’t much look like it anymore.
I’ve been thinking lately about how I’ve moved away from teaching in-person and seeing clients, holding mediumship development circles and really being in the thick of it all with Spirit. Part of me has been afraid Spirit will instruct me to write more books. A deeper part knows that where I am right now is totally OK.
It is OK for my field to lay fallow. I am resting, rejuvenating, building my soil back up.
I’m also writing a different book, one that I needed to let rest for six years while I continued to let it simmer in the background and do my own healing work.
We cannot ripen all the parts of ourselves all at once, nor all the time. Things come in seasons, at their right time, with nourishment and time to grow.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned about connecting to my intuition, my own inner, higher self, is that sometimes the answer I get is “not yet,” or “not right now.” No matter how badly I might want something, it may not be time for it. You cannot force energy along, not with a good outcome. It’s like pushing a piece of cooked spaghetti.
Several times over the past few years, when I’ve asked my inner self for guidance, especially around my career, I’ve received a “pause” response. It can be frustrating if you push against it, or you can relax into it, knowing the energy and time will come around.
It is OK to rest. It is necessary. You must build your inner resources back up so you can grow and bloom again.