Inner Wisdom, Intentions, and Earthquakes


I experienced my first earthquake when living in Southern California. I heard from friends what they feel like, what to do when and if and the after effects. Their words could not prepare me for the physical experience.


Dizziness was my first clue. I immediately thought what’s wrong with me? Then the lurching and rolling of a solid surface brought me to my senses. I did what I was not supposed to do and run outside.


I spent yesterday shaken by the metaphorical earthquake that rumbled through my memories. Grateful to be safe enough to feel them; vulnerable in my sharing; aware my earth moved.


Experiencing an earthquake is an interesting metaphor when healing painful memories. I’ve imagined what a painful memory looks like, since I’ve had so much practice facing them. They take up space in my energy field and look like a swirling mass of chaos. They spin in a looping manner because the memory continues to exist by reliving over and over the painful memory. Some are small so they take up less space. Others are big, more embedded because they’ve been around a long time. They release when inner wisdom gives the okay. They can’t be forced or coerced out.


I am a survivor. I learn from every experience. I grow from every experience. I choose to move on and learn and grow more. Because there will be more.


You are a survivor. You learn from every experience. You grow from every experience. You choose to move on and learn and grow more. Because there will be more.


Inner wisdom is life force that pulses through my energy body, my physical body, my whole being. Slowing down and listening helps me listen to my inner wisdom. My body speaks. My heart speaks. My gut speaks. All using the language of inner wisdom.


I set my intention to continue conversations with my inner wisdom. I listen in my silence. I see with my mind, my heart, my eyes and my soul and navigate my storms. I welcome company on this journey. I’m glad you’re here.


Still, She Breathes ~ Jan Richardson


She decides to return to the simple,

hummingbird sipping nectar

outside open window, pink petals

lit up and laughing with sun


she rests her hand on her own hurting heart, breathes

the kind of breath that releases

all trying, all wanting, all waiting - all promises

of saviors and some day.


She allows rain to pound hard

on all that no longer shelters.


She remembers there is medicine,