Writing from the voice of my future self
An exercise in visualization, and becoming more purposeful and grounded.
It’s where I go whenever I’m visualizing a place in nature.
The oak tree savannah in my back property; a cluster of trees as old as I am.
A small, weathered bench overlooks pastures, a creek, a gravel road, corn fields and giant white windmills slicing across endless skies.
Openness. The wind sweeps through. The canopy created by the trees shades the cool grass.
Today I visualized my 5-year future self in an attempt to understand what might lie ahead for me.
What called her into being? What is her greatest gift to the world? What is her life’s work?
What deep wisdom might she impart on me, the present self, who feels so stuck, overwhelmed and far from creating anything that could be deemed a “gift”….?
This 5-year future self appears to be as steady as a large stone amidst rushing waters. A stone that you’d trust to help catapult you across a river from one bank to the opposite side. A stone that you’d feel comfortable stretching out on even though you’re surrounded by quickly moving chaos.
She invites me into my own home with a gentle, deep gaze and a tiny smile.
She moves with purpose.
Powerful, but not intimidating.
Nurturing, but not too soft.
She is solid. Rooted. Grounded in knowing and acceptance.
She is calm, inviting. Gentle, but guiding.
She spoke nothing but her eyes were deep wells filled with a sea of questions.
She listened with her ears, her eyes and her body. She appears effortlessly comfortable and simply put together.
I follow her into the kitchen and she offers me a steaming cup of tea without a word. It’s not too hot to drink and it smells of cinnamon and cloves and roasted almonds. I inhale deeply and feel the slightly rough texture of the hand turned mug.
Her message comes through clearly.
Full expression does not feel frenetic and chaotic. It does not leave you feeling fully charged with static electricity. It does not require that you perform or put on a show or drain your energy.
Creating is a release. A sort of brimming over similar to crying happy tears that well up and spill out when you experience joy and feel too full of life and love to keep it all in. It channels through you and travels out of you, through your eyes, your words, your hands.
I want to write from her voice.
The calm, grounded, purposeful version of myself.
And I think her voice sounds just like this. Not like a self-help book. Not like a motivational speaker. Not nonchalant.
Powerful. Rooted. Still. Wise.
The words gather together in phrases more akin to a work of fiction. Or poetry.
Illustrative. Generous. Generative.
Making space for emotions and stirring feelings of the reader.
Not a string of simple statements sprinkled with empty calls to action.
Instead, a plea to go deeper, to dive down within.
To push pause on the moment.
To consider. To know.
To recognize oneself.
To cherish and hold.