This week has been an amazing journey seeing
how people’s deep stories transform them.
Seeing how the seed that was planted in me
in a hot, windy, lonely, hungry desert—Death Valley—so many years ago, has
sprouted, flourished, grown into this work that is so much more than a job... It
is my calling. It is my passion.
What began as a
compelling inspiration but with vague shape, structure, form has blossomed into
an endeavor that is now several iterations in its regeneration; people who
first started their memoir, life transition, or earth-based story work with me
are now completing the writing of their stories. Just this week, one
client-friend has begun to receive accolades for her courage in writing a
memoir of deep honesty; the book is only about ten days off the printing press
and already it is changing lives. Another client-friend submitted her book’s
final chapter draft to me yesterday morning; her forty-plus-year-old dream will
awaken into a published book this year.
And, it is the process of the work that is so
powerfully moving to bear witness to. A newer client had the fortitude to spend
two 44-degree, rainy days on the land with me this week…searching for the
perspective, balance, wholeness, integration that will serve as the foundation
for the poignant memoir s/he is beginning to write. And I sat in the psychedelic
green spring wetness listening to birdsong, lapping waves on the shore, wind
through the boughs, the splatter of rain on my jacket and seeing a kaleidoscope
of wildflowers, seals, cormorants, mosses, spring leaf buds. I sat holding the space for my
client to journey within via intentional solo time on the earth—and I suddenly felt intense elation.
The sprouted seed of my inspiration now
looks like others being able to put words to their deep stories.
The sprouted seed of my inspiration looks
like others’ published books.
The sprouted seed of my inspiration
resembles a photograph of a scrawny coyote I was eye-to-eye with three days ago;
interconnection with like-hearted souls
across the planet; and
my own willingness and stamina to continue publishing
articles, chapters, blogs, and another book.
The seed that was planted in the barren
desert during an excruciating four-day fast more than ten years ago now
resembles a community of storymakers: people willing (myself included) to delve
deep into the soil of soul and emerge with gifts that the world needs.
Diving deep into
the raw honesty of my own story transformed me: personally, professionally,
spiritually. The passionate, compassionate calling I’ve been given—in addition to getting my own writing out
of my depths, onto the computer, and then out into the world—is holding
the space for others to write, to story, to deepen, to heal. And the fruits of
those others’ stories are nourishing others in increasingly wide, concentric, beating-heart circles of impact.
We create the conditions for inspiration, step
into that space, and then feel the perspiration bead up and roll down our skin
as we endeavor to make manifest the seed of an idea that is planted during our
time in that liminal space.
This is the stuff of the divine. We are each
just the receptacle, the conduit, for something larger than ourselves. I am
humbled. I am ecstatic. Inspiration works!
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2017 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
