Awaiting Guidance and Following Breadcrumbs

Written by friend of Pacific Essences Jamie Morris

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For the past six months—maybe closer to a year—I’ve felt unmoored. That’s when I first “heard” the guidance to stop taking new book-coaching clients, to let my career of twenty years dwindle. It would take eighteen months, I was “told,” before the process was complete. Before I was no longer coaching writers. 

Since then, I’ve followed my guidance as best as I could. Some days I felt clear and aligned with this radical shift. Some days, I felt relieved of a role I’d outgrown. And some days I felt panicked. My livelihood, my identity in the world, my expression of purpose—I was releasing all of this. And with no guarantees that there would be something to catch me.

And so I’ve been waiting for next steps, a glimpse of a future to hold on to. A North Star. A bread crumb. A finger sign pointing … somewhere. I’ve been listening, asking, checking in. But my guidance kept saying the same thing: Wait. Just wait.

Waiting is easy in theory. It’s harder when finances feel uncertain. Harder still when the world you’ve known is tilting out of recognition.

Yet, I’ve tried to wait well. To listen carefully. To not manufacture clarity just to soothe myself. But, I keep telling the Universe, it’s been months. Almost a year. And, yes, my business is dwindling. Clients completing projects, no new clients taking their place.

It’s not just the money, of course. I’m a teacher at heart. I have a lot to share, and I’ve loved sharing my knowledge with the writers I’ve worked with. With fewer and fewer opportunities to share that knowledge, all that I hold ready to offer has formed a caul around me—a membrane cloaking me and my hard-won insights. I feel ghostly, still walking in my old skin.

I pray. I meditate. I ask for guidance—which I receive, daily, usefully, but just not about what’s next.

Until today, February 14th, when, while making lunch, something shifted—and I heard, quite distinctly, an affirmation: I am alert to opportunities to share my knowledge and wisdom.

Now, I’m not an affirmation girl, generally speaking. But this sentence arrived whole, clean, and clear. It was meant for me, and after months of waiting, I wasn’t going to argue with the message. I grabbed the kitchen notepad and wrote the line down carefully, listening to make sure I was getting the words exactly right. When I had it anchored on the page, it felt like a key turning in the lock of my heart.

If you had asked me last week what I was hoping for, I’m not sure I could have told you. But this—this was it. Sure, it’s not a job title. Not a strategy. Not a five-year plan. But it is a bread crumb. And I am a believer in fairytales.

So I sat with my little scrap of paper and gave it Reiki, repeating the words quietly. For the first time in a while, I felt something like hope—not inflated hope, not fantasy, but orientation. A subtle forward tilt.

Then came another instruction: anoint it.

Hmm. If I’m not an affirmation girl, I am definitely not a ritual girl. I don’t anoint myself, let alone bits of notepaper. But I was determined to stay on task (because, why ask for guidance if I’m not going to follow it when it comes?). Then I thought of my Flower Essence drawer (because, yup, I am a Flower Essence girl!). Maybe I could pick a relevant Flower or Gem Essence and anoint my little note of affirmation with that? 

Rummaging around in the drawer, I found—tucked among Essence bottles—something Sabina had given me a few years ago for my birthday (thank you, Sabina!): an essential oil and Flower Essences spray called Ibuki: A New World of Hope.

I read the description Sabina had included with her gift: Ibuki means to inspire something. The concept is to breathe a new beginning into the world, bringing hope, rejuvenation, and support for one’s direction or path.

It was perfect. As I sprayed the paper liberally, the ink began to bleed, softening the words so that the affirmation transformed from tidy handwriting into something that looked almost ancient, like an artifact pulled from water. Like hope pulled from a dark crevice where it has been keeping faith.

The affirmation now sits on my altar, where I have the distinct feeling that it has been activated—by Reiki, by my attention, by the Essences—and will now work its quiet magic, drawing my future to me, one opportunity at time.

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Many thanks to Jamie for sharing this beautiful story of guidance and breadcrumbs. 

Jamie Morris is a Florida-based (former!) writing coach who loves cats, tarot cards, flower Essences, and every other woo-woo thing you can think of.