Listening to my clients creates compassion and empathy clearly, but listening to myself somehow is harder. Taking note of my body’s sensations, every emotion allows my creativity to flourish, even in using crayons to doodle my grayest interior, the fierce red flashes of pain in my joints, the hidden truths behind any headache.
Joan of Arc was killed for listening to the voices in her head, yet she led an army into triumph. Who am I to deny myself triumph when maybe all I heard was a small voice say “don’t take the freeway”?
The more I listen, the less I speak, wisdom seems to flourish in my soul, giving me guidance, confidence, and peace. Blessed be.
