This week has been an amazing journey of 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.
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 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!
(Excerpted from original post on April 7, 2017)
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2018 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."