The field knew my name

Justin called and asked if I could cut his hair today.
Of course, I grabbed my keys to make the short drive over. But something stopped me. I felt a strong, quiet pull…

Ashley, walk.

It didn’t make much sense…it was so hot outside, and I had clippers to carry…but the prompting was clear. Insistent, even.
So I listened. I packed up the clippers and stepped outside.

The moment I started walking, everything felt different. The air had that soft, slow kind of magic.

My mind quieted.

My heart opened.

I could hear the trees rustling, kids laughing somewhere nearby, and wind chimes singing from an unseen porch.

It was simple…it was beautiful.

On the walk home, I came to the wheat field…that wide stretch between our houses, golden and tall, swaying in the wind.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft shhhhhhhh.
The whole field was moving together.
Like it was singing something only my heart could understand.

It reminded me of a mother’s hush…that soothing sound we make when we rock a baby or hold someone close and say, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I felt that same comfort come over me.

Each stalk of wheat has its own shape, its own design, its own quiet intelligence.
But together, they created something more…a field that whispers.
A soft chorus of surrender.

Standing there, I could feel it in my chest: the feminine was speaking.

She was showing me….

The part of me that knows how to be still.
The part that doesn’t push, just listens.
The part that trusts the timing of things, even when I can’t see where it’s all going.

It felt like an answer to a prayer I’ve been whispering for years.
The question of… “Feminine, where are you?”

And she answered.

When I’m still, she answers.

I’ll never forget the sound of that wheat.

The hush of the Mother.

The way it held me…soft, sacred, and so alive.

Close your eyes, open your heart, listen.

She's there.