For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in constant inner dialogue, with my guides, with my intuition, with the unseen layers of Spirit. But then something began to shift. Gradually, my mind grew quieter. The familiar voices I was used to hearing, the gentle presence of my spiritual team, started to fade. It felt as if they were pulling away, or as if a wall was being placed between us. A strange silence settled in, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Part of me panicked, was I losing my connection? Was I being abandoned by Spirit? I felt like a child left in the dark, reaching out for a hand that no longer reached back.

Then one morning, I woke up and saw it, a closed lotus flower with a green stem, suspended in the space behind my eyes. It was just there, calm and still. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. The lotus, sacred flower of the crown chakra. And with its stem, it felt like a gentle nod to the rise of Kundalini energy, the sacred serpent of awakening that coils at the base of the spine. I felt like something within me was being restructured. I meditated on the vision, letting it anchor me in the middle of that silence. It wasn’t easy, the stillness felt almost unbearable at times. I was so used to being in conversation, to the constant feedback loop with the unseen. But now… just quiet. Raw, aching quiet.

A few days passed. The lotus remained. I watched it move ever so subtly, drawing inward, then reemerging, like it was breathing. In that rhythm, I began to feel a different kind of peace rising inside me. It wasn’t the peace that comes from clarity or certainty, but from surrender. The kind of peace that only arrives when you stop resisting the unknown. Then the stem disappeared. The flower floated on its own, pulsing, alive, breathing in and out. One day, a single petal opened. I remember sitting on the earth, meditating outside with the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair, completely present with that image. There was no message, no instruction, just the presence of the flower and my willingness to be with it.

Then it began to open. Slowly. Gracefully. And then… it was gone. Just like that. But the story didn’t end there. This morning, I woke up and felt it again, but this time, it wasn’t floating somewhere out there. I felt it merging with me, integrating into my crown chakra. It was no longer an image. It was energy. It was me. I could feel it anchoring into my field, like something sacred was clicking into place. And now… here I am. In the silence. In the unknown. But also… in the trust.

I’ve spent so much of my life wrapped in fear and anxiety, always waiting for the next problem to emerge. I was addicted to anticipation, to the nervous readiness for something to go wrong. But lately, I feel something shifting. I feel myself learning to surrender to the flow of the Universe. To stop fighting the current. To trust my body, my timing, my soul. I don’t need to hear constant voices to feel connected anymore. I’ve become the quiet space where the sacred speaks. The silence wasn’t abandonment. It was an initiation. And I’m finally beginning to understand that I was never alone. I was just being invited into a deeper level of communion. A place beyond words. A place where the lotus opens not to show you something… but to make you become it.