Lynne Fairchild, Author at Wayfinding Coach

From Whence Does Your Inner Guidance Come

December 8, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

I’ve been accused of having a vivid imagination.

I found this rock on my road today. It looked to me like a secret map.

I wouldn’t use this rock to try to find my way through life, but it did make me think of something that I strongly believe: our inner guidance is everywhere. Or, to put it another way, our inner wisdom is always broadcasting to us. It’s just that we aren’t listening, most of the time, so we don’t pick up on it.

I know this because I am always forgetting to tune into my inner wisdom. And then, when I do tune in, I can always sense or feel that core essence in me. I know it is there, and I know that it’s broadcasting.

I know something else: if the signal isn’t clear, it isn’t the signal. It’s that I am not quite in a receptive place to hear it.

What does it mean, for me, to be “not receptive”? Most often it is that I’m rushing around, and my rhythm isn’t conducive to listening within. Or I really want to “get an answer,” and my anxiety about “getting a fix” is blocking the signal. Or — this is a big one — I have assumptions and expectations about what I think the answer should be, or what it should look like, ie, I’m not a blank slate.

I could get my inner guidance from this rock, if I were in a receptive enough state, because the rock would only be serving as a focal point for my inner listening.

I could find a quiet place, stop, hold the rock, breathe into a slower rhythm, and open myself to listening and sensing my inner guidance. And I would feel the wisdom that was meant for me in that moment. That is what I mean by our inner wisdom always broadcasting. I just have to want to hear it more than I want my own agenda in the moment. I need to surrender to not knowing, and listen.

And then I will “hear” (sense, feel, see) just what I need in that moment. Important caveat: Just what I need in that moment, not necessarily what I think I need.

So, I’m going to quit writing this blog post and sit with the rock. 🙂 From whence does your inner guidance come?

A Walking Prayer

December 7, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

This time of year it’s easy to walk with the sunrise. The sun rises relatively late, and I can get out before most people begin their day.

This morning the air is cool but not uncomfortably cold. There is a slight breeze that is gentle on my face. As I walk by my neighbor’s house, I’m hearing the soft ringing of the chimes that are hanging on her porch.

The sun rises with the promise of a new day. The early morning light is strong and powerful.

The rhythm of the day feels different before sunrise. It’s quiet; most people aren’t out and about yet. There is not even any birdsong this time of year.

Nature is my sanctuary, or temple. Nature is my “something bigger than myself,” and I find it really accessible on my walks. It is easy for me to attune to the energy and creative spirit of Nature.

Prayer, to me, is simply honoring what is sacred to us. As I tune into the rhythm and spirit of Nature, my walk becomes a prayer.

This intimate connection with Nature is what made me want to move from the city into the country thirty years ago. Some people find their “something bigger than themselves” in other people, or in a city, or in a church. I find it in Nature, and I always have, since I was a very small child.

We all need this kind of intimate connection, but we all find it in different ways. What is your way? And, what is your prayer?

First Snow

December 5, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

All sound is muffled and everything is still. Snowflakes are slowly and steadily drifting to the ground.

There is something magical about the first snowfall of the year. Every year, I experience this feeling. For me, there is a sense of wonder, as I see it all with beginner eyes.

Through the intervening seasons, I have forgotten the immediacy of the rigors of winter. I am seeing and feeling with a childlike sense of awe and wonder.

This makes me curious about how I see my life, as I live it, day to day. I wonder what would be possible if I were able to come to it with more of a sense of beginner eyes.

Could I recapture some of that innocence of seeing? Could I feel, again, some of that feeling of amazement at the most ordinary things?

How can we come to our lives with that spirit of freshness?

Scattering Seeds

December 4, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

Today I was out scattering seeds on my land.

I gathered these seeds in the prairie. I’m sending them off with wishes that some of them take root next Spring, in the abundance of sun and rain that will be available to them then.

I marvel at how each variety of seed looks so different. The varieties of texture and size and color are incredible.

Each seed, however tiny, has in it the intelligence to guide it to full fruition. It knows what it is to be and it has a pathway to get there.

Like the seed, we have intelligence deep within us, to guide us along our way.

For years, I doubted this, because I couldn’t reliably access it. I’d receive intuition and inspiration occasionally, but, honestly, it seemed a bit arbitrary and capricious. Kind of like a friend that you couldn’t count on to be there for you. My guidance seemed to come and go at its whim.

Our inner essence knows what we need to know, in order to grow and to create, and to thrive. Our bit is to learn how to tune into that intelligence within. I’m guessing that this is something that the seed doesn’t have to give much thought to, but we humans have a lot of distractions to cope with.

My inner wisdom seems to move at an altogether different rhythm and pace than I do. So, first, I need to entrain to its rhythm by meditating or doing some slow breathing.

My inner intelligence seems to share what it wants me to hear, rather than what I want to know. I need to be open and receptive to whatever might arise from within, rather than what I think it should tell me.

And, I need to be sincere in my invitation and intention. It helps me to surrender to the wisdom, and to allow to come whatever is meant to come into my awareness in that moment. Being curious helps me be open and sincere.

So I just tune in and ask, with a sincere heart: What do I need to know, right now?

It could not be simpler, but I find that it isn’t always easy to shed all of what I bring to the process, so that I can be an open, clear receptive field of listening. I want to be like the land, open and receptive to the fertile seeds taking root.

Take a moment to breathe deeply. What does your inner wisdom want you to know right now?

Snow Birds

December 3, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

The Snow Birds are back.

They are actually Juncos. They are a bird that migrates in to spend their winter here, hence their nickname. I know, when I see them, that the first snowfall is not far off.

I look forward to the arrival of the Snow Birds each year, I appreciate their company for the winter months. Most songbirds are long gone, having taken off for warmer climes. They won’t be back until March or April, even May, for some.

The Snow Birds scratch in the snow to access their food. I marvel at their ability to survive in the harsh conditions of our winters. They look soft and fragile, but they are actually very hardy.

As I get older, I catch myself thinking that I am fragile, and I can unconsciously begin to act “as if” I am, falling into alignment with cultural expectations for people of my age group.

I’m not recommending that we get reckless as we age, but I do think that we need to remember how many life skills we have, and how wise and capable we really are, from all the living that we have done. And, how hardy we are.

Sometimes I look at the Snow Birds and think that they must be having a hard time in the rigors of winter. And then I remember that they are built for it.

That is what I wish us to remember too: our hardiness, our resilience, our capability. We are built for it.

Beauty and Dignity

December 2, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

I look at this tree and see beauty, strength, and dignity.

This tree lived a long time. Probably not a hundred years, like the oaks on this land, but a long time. When I look at it now, I see its history. I think of the many years of growth, and green, and colors changing in the fall.

This tree stands like a sentry at the edge of the prairie. It has stood in many winters, exposed to the blasting winds and snow that sweep down this hill. It has stood for cycle after cycle.

I feel like we can learn a lot from trees, about the cycles of life that are similar to our cycles. Sometimes we feel like we are in dormancy, like something is incubating, and all there is to do is to wait. This is always hard for me to do, but it isn’t hard for the tree.

And then there is growth, and production, and harvest, when the tree is a real work horse. The tree teaches me about sustainability in this cycle.

There is much for the tree to teach me about letting go. In the Autumn, the leaves fall easily from the tree. I could learn about letting go, with ease, and making way for the next cycle of growth.

But most of all now, I feel like this tree can teach me about aging with beauty, and strength, and dignity. This is what I am looking to learn these days, and when I look at this tree, standing alone, I feel this tree radiating these qualities.

It is beautiful and strong, regardless. That is what I want to be.

What do you learn from trees?

Letting Our Full Colors Shine

December 1, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

On my walk today, I noticed how muted the colors in the December landscape have become.

This obviously happens every year, and every year it takes me a while to adjust to it.

It is like things are fading away, into nondescript blah-ness. I love color: full, robust, vivid, vibrant color. Color engages me; it gets my attention. Color excites me. I feel like I am living a fuller version of myself and my life when I am in a colorful environment.

The muted landscape got me thinking. How often do we mute ourselves? How often do we hold back from expressing the full color of our point of view, our wisdom, our perspective? How might we hesitate from taking what feels like bold, colorful action?

Settle in, relax, and ask your deepest wisdom: How do I mute myself?

What bubbled up from that inquiry from deep within me is that I mute myself when I don’t publish what I write. I have so many reasons, but none of them are good enough to hold myself back. I read something just last week about how important it is for us to publish, because there might be even just one person out there who would feel good hearing what we have to say, in just the way that we say it.

The guidance from within me is not to publish every single thing I write, but to search my heart and in that, I will know what is ready to go out into the world. This feels right. In the past, I have held my writing back, trying to make it better, or because I’m not sure it will be significantly different than everything that is out there already. I don’t just ask my “inners” if it is ready to go.

Our colors are our colors. They are, by definition, different than anyone else’s, if we let them shine into their full authenticity. Elizabeth Gilbert, in her book Big Magic, makes the distinction between original and authentic. She says: “Well, yes, it probably has already been done. Most things have already been done – but they have not be done by you.”

It’s important to let our full colors shine. The world needs all of our unique and individual essences, shining to their fullest.

Where might you be muting yourself? Where can you let your colors shine?

Who I Want to Be – Two Ninety-Year-Old Friends

November 30, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

Harper The Dog and I were – you guessed it – on a walk at the park when I noticed a man and woman coming slowly up the path towards us. The woman was using a walking stick, and she was moving very slowly.

I asked Harper to sit, as I do for all passerby’s, and when the man reached us, he stopped to talk. Almost everybody stops to talk to Harper; he’s quite the attention getter.

His wife caught up to us, and we had the most delightful conversation. They lived in Woodstock, about 20 miles away, and they said that they come to the park often.

Animated, they told me about how they love living in their house in Woodstock so much that they have hesitated to move into a smaller house, even though they don’t really need all the space they have.

They told me how much they love their walks in the park, and seeing the colors change in the prairie all through the seasons. I love that too.

She told me about a dog that her grandmother had, when she was a little girl, living on her grandmother’s farm.

It was clear to me, just from a few moments of conversation, that they loved their whole lives, and each other.

They loved to stay active, and they loved being out in Nature. They love it so much that they frequently drive 20 miles to the park.

Then, he told me he was ninety years old.

I loved this couple immediately. They inspired me, with their clear commitment to grab life and live it to the hilt. With their commitment to remain active, they were exactly the antidote I needed to counteract all of our cultural beliefs that aging is a slow, painful decline into inactivity and death.

We said goodbye, and they moved at a crawl, up the steep hill that Harper and I had just come down. I marveled at their vitality and their positive spirit. I felt so blessed that they had come across my path that day. What a gift.

They are who I want to be, with however much time I have.

Who do you want to be?

The Dance of Cranes

November 29, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

Just as I step out for my walk today, a huge flock of migrating Sandhill Cranes passes overhead, making their distinctive rolling cries.

We are used to the honking of Canadian Geese, throughout the fall migration season. They come through frequently in large flocks.

Less commonly, we hear and see the cranes. It seems that their migration is clustered in a smaller span of time, both in the fall and spring, than that of the geese.

I love the cranes, and the only time I see them is during migration.

This morning they were loud and close. They must have been feeding on the remanents of corn or soybeans in the fields. They had just taken off and were gaining altitude.

I remember the first time that I noticed them. It was a sunny day, with a bright blue sky, in the springtime. I heard an unusual whirring sound, and when I traced it, all I could see were a collection of swirling glints, far up in the sky.

Later I learned it was a flock of migrating cranes, and the glints were the bits of sunlight as it reflected off of their 5 – 6 foot wingspans. When they migrate, they are usually 500 to 2,500 feet in altitude, so they are often barely visible.

I also learned that they have several flight methods, including spiraling and soaring.

What I had seen looked like a spiral dance of tiny particles of sunlight. It was magical.

So, now, when I see the cranes, I am being given the gift of a magical dance, because that is what they represent to me. This is a reminder to me to step back and see the beautiful dance that my life is.

How does the dance of life show up for you?

Seeing a Different World

November 28, 2015 by Lynne Fairchild Leave a Comment

My dogs never see their world the same way twice.

I have a lot to learn from them.

My husband Harold and I take our dogs for two to three walks a day on the same stretch of road, about two miles round trip. Yes, we vary it with visits to the parks when we can, but for the most part they are in the same territory a few times every day, 365 days a year.

I’ve watched them. Every day they act like they’ve never seen the landscape before. Never smelled the same smells.

They are eager and excited because it is a new world to them today. They don’t seem to think “here we are again, in the same place, how boring.”

I work in my home, so my universe is much smaller than it is for most people. I often go for a few days without going out of my immediate neighborhood.

Many of us orbit around the same things day after day, cycling through home, work, and community, except for the times that we go on vacation or travel farther afield.

Except that, as my dogs know, they aren’t the same things. People are changing, weather is changing, nature is changing, light is changing. An infinite number of variables are dancing in an infinite number of combinations, which yields a different miracle in every moment.

The trick is to be present for the miracles.

When I’m really present, focused completely on what is right here, right now, I know that my world is never the same. There is always something different in it, in every moment. No matter how many times I have been “here,” I’ve never been here right now.

How do I cultivate that kind of presence? It helps me to deepen attention to my senses.

When I’m out on a dog walk, I tune into my environment with all of my senses, rather than tuning out, listening to a podcast, or going over something in my mind. What am I seeing today? What do I feel on my skin, or under my feet? What are the subtle things that I am hearing? What is catching my attention?

It is so simple to do this. When I do it, I do pick up on different things every day.

It is also pretty amazing how easily I can zone out and miss the whole walk, if something else is on my mind. So, it does take a conscious commitment to be present.

What it yields, though, is a whole different walk than the day before. My world becomes fascinating again.

What are you seeing in your world today?

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