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In ancient times, scribes were devotees of the Word.
They were the bridges between worlds, charged with the
sacred task of painstakingly transcribing the
Mysteries into a form that could be referenced by holy
men and women. Many centuries later, our modern
journals give us unlimited access to the Mysteries of
our souls. Through this column, I hope to offer ways
that we can approach our own lives with the love and
devotion of the scribes of old.
Believe me, after 15 years as
a journal therapist, I know there are dozens of good
reasons to write things down. But none intrigues,
delights or satisfies me more consistently than giving
written form to the still, small voice inside – the
voice of intuition.
So grab your notebook, blank
book, clean computer screen, legal pad, or whatever you
write on (it doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it
feels comfy) and let’s explore five ways to scribe
your intuition. Don’t worry about "rules"
like spelling, grammar, or if you’re doing it
"right." In my journal universe, the only
"rule" is allegiance to your own soul and
spirit.
1. Keep an intuition log. New
to the intuition game? Not even sure how to recognize
that still, small voice? Start by noticing. Be an
intuition detective, gathering clues to what might
be intuitive flashes or hits. Just as you might write
down five gratitudes at the end of each day, try writing
five experiences, thoughts or "random" events
that might have been intuition. Be sure to note your
body’s response. Did you experience a "pop"
or "aha" of recognition, like a lightbulb over
your head? Was it a stirring in your tummy? Was it an
opening and softening of your heart? Did you get goose
bumps? You’ll quickly learn to recognize your own
"felt-sense" of intuition.
2. Get curious about patterns.
Angeles Arrien says, "If something knocks on your
door three times, answer the door." A client of
mine – let’s call him Jeff – described to me a
sensation in his body, near his gut, "that feels
like a hole but is not a wound." Based on the
conversation we were having, I said, "Sounds like
it might be a yearning." A strange look came over
Jeff’s face. He said, "That’s funny. All week I’ve
had the chorus of an old Supremes song running through
my head – ‘I’ve got that yearning, burning feeling
inside me’ – and just yesterday, somebody told me I
reminded him of someone who was yearning for
redemption."
"Get to a clean page in
your notebook," I said. "Give me five minutes
on yearning. Write everything you know. Ready, set,
go." As Jeff discovered in the write, his intuition
was guiding him back to an earlier life experience that
wanted to be embraced, explored and expanded.
3. Pay attention to the
perfection of "mistakes." Eleanor
was feeling mad at herself when she arrived at Monday
afternoon writing group. She had just come from a bon
voyage party for a friend who was moving away. Eleanor’s
assignment for the celebration had been to bring helium
balloons. Because she couldn’t see out her rear-view
mirror with the balloons bouncing around in her back
seat, she pulled over en route and put them in the
trunk.
She arrived at the park where
the party was being held, scooping up purse and packages
as she exited the car. But when she opened the trunk,
juggling her armload of stuff, the balloons escaped and
floated away. She watched, helpless, as her beautiful
bouquet of well-wishes wafted heavenward.
Of course in the end it didn’t
matter a whit, and the party was just as lovely with the
thought of balloons as with the balloons themselves. But
Eleanor still felt abashed.
"What if there’s a
bigger story here?" I asked her. "What’s
your Higher Self trying to tell you?" And she
wrote:
I wanted the balloons to make
people smile, and I realize that my story caused lots of
smiles…. I’m sure there is also a message for me to
stop berating myself and telling myself "how stupid
I can be" …. Releasing the balloons that said
"Best wishes" and "Good luck" seems
now to be like a prayer that I have held in my heart for
the world. I have had this wish and said this prayer to
myself so many times as I hear of the sadness and
tragedy in the world…. Perhaps this is God’s way of
telling me that my thoughts and prayers released with a
loving intent is all that the Divine Power needs to make
this world a better place. And my intuition tells me
that I must not berate myself with the idea that what I
do is so little compared to what needs to be done. It
says that once I release the loving thoughts, they can
spread far and wide, ending up somewhere I can’t even
imagine, just like the balloons.
4. Be a scribe for the still,
small voice inside.
Recently I was frustrated to bits with a business
project that just wasn’t flowing. No matter how much I
tried to stay fluid and open to guidance, I found myself
stopped at every turn. Each time I hit the wall, I did
an intuition check – asking inside if this project was
the right thing to be doing, and if this was the right
time to be doing it. I consistently got "green
light" answers, which made the discontinuity with
my experience even more baffling.
Finally, in utter exasperation,
I sat down with my journal. "What is it that I’m
not seeing here?" I asked myself, and then I got
quiet and sat in silence. Although I had written about
this situation many times, I knew there had to be
something deeper that I was missing. Slowly, words began
to form in my mind. I wrote them down, at first
haltingly, then more quickly. Within ten minutes, I knew
what had been eluding me. The project was in fact right,
and the timing was also right. But there was one element
of the project that needed a subtle shift. Once my
intuition pointed it out to me, I instantly saw the
enormity of the positive difference that subtle shift
would make. So I committed to it, revisioned the project
accordingly, and immediately found myself back in flow.
5. If words won’t come, try
drawing or collage.
Sometimes intuition would rather speak in symbols than
in English. Jane, a woman who is struggling to liberate
herself from a marriage that feels like a slow death,
e-mailed me this story:
Last night, late, after working
really hard on something, I was about to fall into bed
and decided instead that I felt too separated from my
art. I thought I would take just a few minutes and make
something, to reconnect. At first I just smudged colors
and made a background. At that point I was going to put
it away and save it for another project, but I decided
instead to draw abstract lines. I drew a few and felt
awkward about it. Thought, well, the paper’s ruined
now anyway, I might as well keep going. I drew a shape I
thought looked really dumb. Kept going anyway. When I
had just about filled up the whole thing I put down the
pastels and thought, now WHAT am I going to do with
this. Can I somehow salvage that pretty background?
Erase the lines? Cut it up for collage?
I stepped back about three
paces and looked at it again, and had the wind knocked
out of me. It was a bird, as clear as can be. Not a
literally interpreted bird, but a sort of primitive
interpretation of a bird. I had drawn a top knot on its
head, even, and not realized it was a bird. I have to
tell you it gave me the chills. So then I sat right down
and wrote to my most ardently skeptical artist friend
about it, …and uploaded a scan to her. Finally went to
bed, wondering if I had been touched by something or
other, or if I was imagining things. This morning I got
up to find a post from above-noted skeptical friend. I
mean skeptical. This woman is a wonderful artist but is
a just-the-facts-only type. Here's what she said. Jane.
It's the phoenix.
Now THAT gave me chills. I went
to read the myth of the phoenix, and how only one ever
lives and when it senses its oncoming death it goes to
its nest, sets itself aflame, sings as it burns, and a
new phoenix arises from the ashes. Yikes. It's hard to
think I was not touched by something.
Yes, it certainly seems as if
Jane were touched by something – something that is
reaching out to touch each one of us. Every day our
souls reach out and speak to us from ancient mythic
realms, assuring us that we are profoundly loved, that
we are astonishingly wise, and that communication with
our own deepest knowing is as close as the next clean
page or clean screen of our journals.
© 2000 Kathleen
Adams. All rights reserved. Artwork © 2000 by the
artist. All rights reserved.
Kathleen Adams LPC, RPT is a
Registered Poetry/Journal Therapist and Director of The
Center for Journal Therapy in Lakewood, Colorado. She is
the author of four books, including Journal to the
Self and The Write Way to Wellness. Her
upcoming seminars include the annual 5-day women’s
writing retreat in Colorado in July, and The Write Way
to Wellness 2-day workshop in Portland, Maine in late
August. She would love your feedback on this column;
please e-mail kay@journaltherapy.com
or stop by her website, www.journaltherapy.com
Read
Kathleen's Current "Scribing the Soul" Column
Read
Kathleen's Feature Article on Dream Journals:
Writing
in the Dark: Cracking the Soul's Code Through Dream
Journals
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