You haven’t heard from me for awhile. Taking a break is a giant no-no in the world of book marketing. But I think that’s a mistake. A big mistake.
Marketing is necessary. It’s how new readers find me and old readers go deeper into the concepts I share. But, as much as I love communicating with you through my books, courses, events, newsletters, and social media, I know that silence, stillness, and solitude are necessary in my life. And not just in my life. I believe that silence, stillness, and solitude are necessary in any spiritual life.
And what I want more than anything is a vibrant spiritual life. My own spiritual adventures are the source of all my books and ideas. And so, I have been quiet this July. And, don’t you know, as soon as I got quiet, the source fountain started bubbling over. It all began in Montana.
My annual soul-venture was a Soul Quest at the Blacktail Ranch in Montana. I stepped into this adventure the way I step into all my trips–in a complete state of trust. First, I trust Gayle Lawrence who designs all my trips. She is an expert in this field, having designed hundreds of spiritually stimulating Journeys of Discovery. I trust Spirit to attract the perfect group. And I trust that as the trip unfolds, everyone will experience exactly what they need, when they need it, and in the form they need. That includes me. I’m one of the travelers, too, and I know that I will be fed in ways I could never predict.
That’s exactly what happened at the Blacktail. I have many luscious stories to tell you, but the one that wants to be told today is the story of the cave. What happened there may well be the most important message I’ve ever received.
On the Blacktail Ranch there is an ice-age cave. The family protects it carefully and keeps it in its natural state. There are no railings, ramps or walkways inside. When you step into this glacial cave, you step into the womb of mother earth.
To get in, we backed slowly down a straight twenty-foot ladder, then crouched down and stumbled forward until we reached a large wet rock. The only thing to do was get down on our bums and slide into the cave.
But once we were inside and could stand up and look around, we realized we were walking where ancient brethren walked. They left petroglyphs and a bison and bear altar stone. They slept here, worshipped here, cooked here. We were on holy ground.
We asked our guide to leave us alone in the dark for a bit. He left and turned off the gas generator that powers a few lights. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or closed, but I still closed them. It felt more reverent. The cave was not silent. There were drifts of cool air and a chorus of mysterious drips all around us. I swear I heard a few stone groans. The rocks emitted a perfume that cannot be described.
In the silence, I asked the massive stone ceiling above me, “Do you have a message for me?” What happened next is difficult, if not impossible, to describe.
I am accustomed to “seeing” divine guidance on the page. I have also trained myself to lie still in that not-awake-but-no-longer-asleep state I now know is theta. In those precious moments, I know what it sounds like to “hear” guidance. And in yoga, I’m learning what it “feels” like to be still.
The cave experience was none of these. In the moment after I asked the question, the stones delivered a message that arrived inside of me. No seeing, hearing, or feeling was involved. It was an automatic transmission or infusion. The voice of the stones was simply inside me and the rock said, “I am old. You are old.”
At first, I thought uh no, rock, it’s you who are old. Ice age, glacial rivers carved you. I, on the other hand, am just 64. But I wasn’t about to argue with the bones of the earth. So I was still and allowed the rocks to repeat inside of me, “I am old. You are old.” After a few minutes, I realized that the pronouns had shifted, and the I had become me and the you had become the rocks.
That’s when the wisdom burst open inside me. I sensed the rocks were smiling as they watched me awaken to a core truth. I am a soul. Souls are old. We know this. We say “immortal” soul. But think for a moment what that means. If a soul is immortal, it is old. Big old. Old old. Older than the rocks old. I was stunned by the depth of this wisdom. It is the first time I knew–and I knew that I knew–that I was a soul and my soul was in touch with all that is, even these elegant, eloquent, ancient stones.
Now, I know that this is a truism and we speak this truism all the time. But saying “I am an immortal soul” is not the same thing as knowing this at the core of your being.
Try it on for size. Imagine yourself in a Redwood forest or an ice age cave or beside an ocean. Picture yourself in your favorite natural setting. Ask for a message. Then, allow the tree or the rock or the ocean to speak to you. Perhaps it will say “I am old. You are old.” If it does, repeat it fifteen or twenty times and notice how you feel. Do you sense your soul singing in recognition? Then, from the soul level, sing back to your sister rock or brother tree, “I am old. You are old.” Or perhaps, your ancient friend has a different message for you.
I’m going to post this newsletter on my newly renamed and renergized blog, “soul sparks.” (That’s a message from the Blacktail, too, but I’ll save it for another newsletter.) After you’ve had your own “old soul” experience, please add a comment about what happened. We’d love to hear.
From this old soul to your old soul, I wish you a space of silence, stillness, solitude this summer so your soul can step forward and sing to you. Perhaps it will sing a song of creativity. If so, my two courses on creativity are about to begin.
Plug In for Writers if your soul longs to sing in words.
Plug In for Expressive Souls if you want to see with the eyes of your soul, hear with the ears of your soul, feel with the skin of your soul, and know–and know that you know–with the mysterious essence of your soul.
Come play with me. I can’t predict the outcome, but I can guarantee a glorious adventure into the wisdom of your beautiful old soul.