The Voice In My Head: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Unavoidable and Totally Basic Shadows

AI Artwork by Cassandra DeAnn

This chapter of my life brought a deeper understanding of surrender.

As much as I wanted to fast-forward to the part where everything made sense, I began to see that what I really needed was to soften, to relax into the moment. Life often felt out of my control, but I was starting to recognize that the universe was calling me into the unknown. And answering that call required trust—and surrender.

Not the kind of surrender where we give up or sit on our hands, but the kind that asks us to attune to the receptive energy of the yin. There are greater forces at work in life, always moving, always shaping. We see this mirrored in the seasons, in the rhythms of nature, in the instinctual grace of wildlife. It’s the ever-turning wheel of life.

“Bear with things as the Earth bears with us: by yielding, by accepting, by nourishing.”
—Brian Browne Walker, translation of Hexagram 2, The I Ching

The sun, in its masculine essence, shines and gives generously to the Earth. The feminine—the Earth, the void—receives that light into her rich soil, nourishes it, and from that sacred union, something new is born.

Like the sun, we follow the call of our hearts. We dream, we play, we create, and we offer our gratitude for life itself. But we must also make space for the yin, the feminine within us, to tend and nourish what we’ve sown. There is a quiet wisdom in surrendering to this receptive force, trusting that what will bloom from our intentions will be beautiful in its own divine timing.

This is not a passive surrender, but one that yields with grace—because our souls arrived here with a blueprint, already knowing our deepest desires and the most aligned path to realize them. Our task is to be mindful of the seeds we plant, ensuring they come from the true desires of our heart, and then allow them to rest in the fertile unknown until they are ready to bloom and bear fruit.

Imagine choosing to grow a garden. With excitement and hope, you dream of exactly what you want—what your heart longs for. You buy the seeds, prepare the soil, and lovingly plant them. A few weeks pass. Your mind becomes restless. You go to your garden and say, “These aren’t the right seeds. Everyone else is planting daisies. No one else is growing what I am. I should have planted daisies too.” So, you dig up all the seeds, doubting your original dream, and start over.

Later, you plant again—but this time, you obsessively worry over the seeds. You water them, then worry. You water them again, still worried. “What if they don’t grow?” you fret. And in your fear, you drown them with your anxiety and over attention, never giving the soil time to do its quiet magic.

Maybe you try again. Perhaps you’ve learned a little about trust. Perhaps not. Still, you plant the seeds once more and wait, impatiently. You pace around the garden, wondering, Why aren’t there any flowers yet? In your frustration, you dig into the soil to check if the seeds have grown roots—only to destroy what was quietly forming in the dark.

How could anything thrive in such conditions?

Though I am no expert gardener myself, I can safely say this is not how flourishing gardens are grown. Yet this is often how we treat our own dreams and desires—with impatience, comparison, and mistrust.

So instead, we dream. We plant. And then, we surrender—with trust in the unseen, in the quiet alchemy beneath the surface. Because in that surrender, life knows exactly how to bloom.

In time, I found myself slowly digging my way back toward the light, emerging from the heavy fog of depression. It was June 9, 2022—exactly one year after my initial awakening. I had come so far.

Joy was beginning to return to my life, gently and genuinely. I felt myself relaxing into the moment, and there was a noticeable rise in my confidence. During this period, I spent countless hours in meditation—sometimes two hours or more a day, simply sitting in reflection, allowing myself to be still and present.

One afternoon, I was sitting in my home studio—my sacred space—and after a long stretch of complete silence, something unexpected happened. A voice, clear and fluid, spoke from within as if it were sitting right beside me. I remember it began softly: “Hello, Cassandra…” and then continued with wise, detailed, and unmistakably intelligent guidance.

Over the next few days, I was in awe as this voice became a consistent presence. This wasn’t like the brief, one- or two-word intuitive nudges I had received in the past. And although I had experienced flowing guidance before—especially when channeling my guided meditations—this was entirely different. That guidance had always felt like a vision, like watching a movie in my mind. But this… this was a voice.

After that moment, something shifted. My meditations and readings deepened. The connection was stronger, more intimate. The voice became part of my everyday reality. My mind still held its usual stillness, but when something meaningful needed to come through, I now had access to a full stream of conversation. I recognized this voice as either my higher self or my spirit guides.

Eventually, I began to refer to it casually in conversation with close friends and family. I’d say things like, “They told me…” and it felt completely natural. This presence was as familiar to me as a trusted friend. I often spoke of it the same way I’d speak of any other person in my life. I just assumed I had finally caught up to something others like me had long been experiencing. Surely, they had their own inner voice, too—I thought.

Then one day, a friend said to me while in a spiritual retreat, with excited curiosity, “Who are ‘they’ and what do you have to do to connect with them?”

I was surprised—she, too, was on a spiritual path, much like mine. This was the first time I felt a flicker of uncertainty about what I was experiencing. I responded to her with honesty:

"I consider them to be my spirit guides—or sometimes my higher self. I begin each day in meditation. I call upon Archangel Michael to surround me with his golden light of protection. Then I invite my spirit guides, guardian angels, and higher self to be with me and guide me through the day. Usually, once I’ve done that, the conversation begins."

She was amazed.

And yet, as she listened with wide eyes, I felt my own shadow begin to stir. Why me? Why would I have access to something like this? Surely, I wasn’t anyone special. What if I was doing it wrong? What if I was...crazy?

The voice always spoke in a way that was distinctly its own. Since I don’t typically experience a constant inner monologue, it was unmistakable when it wasn't me speaking. Its messages were often so clear and insightful that they would stop me in my tracks—startling in their precision and depth. Always kind. Always helpful. Always rooted in love. And still… the self-doubt lingered.

Not long after, I found myself in conversation with someone at a retreat. We were casually talking about Human Design—nothing formal, no scheduled reading. Just a group setting where I was speaking freely about something I love. I began sharing insights about different charts, answering questions with ease. The information flowed effortlessly. Words poured from me so fluently I could barely keep up with them. It was like I was channeling a river of wisdom.

And then...a crack.

A moment of doubt slipped in.

I turned to her and said, “I can’t say I’m fully tapped in right now, but this is what I’m seeing.”

I said it without thinking—because I hadn’t done anything extra that day beyond my usual morning meditation. I hadn’t lit a candle, said another prayer, or done any kind of formal ritual. I questioned myself. Was that enough? Does this still count? Is this coming from Source—or just from my own studies?

As soon as those doubts surfaced… the flow stopped.

Like a faucet suddenly turned off, the words vanished. I stared at her chart and searched desperately for something to say—but nothing came. It was awkward. Silent. I sat there with my mind blank, stunned by how quickly it had all disappeared.

She looked at me kindly and said, “It’s okay, honey. I don’t want to drain your energy.”

I smiled, a little flustered, and replied, “No, it’s fine—just give me a moment.”

But the moment stretched… turning into a long, awkward silence.

Again, she reassured me, “Seriously, it’s okay.”

And just like that—whoosh—the energy returned. The words came rushing back, and I continued sharing detailed insights about her chart. I spoke with such clarity and flow that even I was impressed. It felt effortless again, like I was simply remembering something I already knew.

That night, when I lay in bed reflecting, I entered my usual meditation and gave thanks for the beauty and connection I’d felt throughout the day. In the quiet stillness, the voice came through and said gently, “Now you know what it feels like to not be connected. Next time, don’t doubt yourself.”

I laughed to myself. A soft, knowing laugh—the kind you let out when you realize the universe has a sense of humor. That moment became one of many lessons I would receive in that exact, pointed way.

As the days passed, things began to feel really good. The more I relaxed into myself, the more I noticed life aligning in unexpected ways. I started to notice that my surroundings seemed to shift with me. My studies, particularly in Human Design and astrology, often described my energy as “magnetic”—a quality that, if I’m honest, my prior low self-esteem didn’t quite believe. It felt like a compliment that belonged to someone else. But the more I tuned in, the more I began to see how true it might actually be.

One afternoon, feeling especially light and grounded, I decided to check out a spiritual center about an hour from home. They were offering a free class on Ayurveda. I’d dealt with digestive issues for most of my life, so the topic piqued my interest—and I figured it might be a nice way to meet a few like-minded people.

When I arrived, I found a cozy group of about six attendees. It was small, but I had no expectations—just curiosity.

As the class began, we were each invited to introduce ourselves and share why we’d come. When it was my turn to speak, something unexpected happened. The group leaned in with rapt attention. They laughed—warmly and genuinely—when I joked about being someone who “just really loves cats.” The energy in the room shifted. Everyone seemed so drawn in, it almost felt surreal—like I had stumbled into one of those oddly hypnotic scenes from a cult documentary.

It caught me completely off guard.

Whoa, I thought. That was weird.

Still, I brushed the thought aside and redirected my focus. I was genuinely excited to hear what the speaker had to share.

As the meeting continued, I noticed something surprising—my simple interactions seemed to captivate the room more than the speaker. I didn’t mean to! At one point, I even tried to hold back, keeping my thoughts brief when we were invited to share. It’s not like I was saying anything groundbreaking. And yet, toward the end of the gathering, people were turning toward me, asking questions, engaging with me so much that I had to find a gentle, clever way to redirect the focus back to the speaker.

It was the first time I truly felt the effect of my energy lighting up a space. The first time I understood what it meant to be magnetic. It was strange—almost eerie—and definitely unfamiliar. I mean, sure, I’ve had moments in my life where I could be entertaining or captivating, but this wasn’t that. It wasn’t performative.

Reflecting later, I realized the universe might have amplified that moment—just a bit—to show me what it looks and feels like when I show up in complete alignment. And it wouldn’t be the last time I experienced something like this.

Another defining moment came when I was invited to speak at a breakout session during a large floral design conference in New York. It was a big step for me. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the speaking that made me nervous—it was the thought of navigating all the casual interactions over several days, the small talk, the mingling, the social energy that often overwhelmed me. But when it came time to speak, something magical happened. I could feel the energy in the room shift as I spoke—it was electric.

I remember looking out at the group of strangers, sensing the skepticism and detachment in the air. Still, they had chosen to be there. They’d chosen to hear me. I was asked to speak about communicating your worth to your clients, with complete freedom to take it in any direction I wanted. And, as I often do, I went deep.

Instead of focusing on marketing buzzwords or surface-level strategies, I shared five ways to connect to your value by looking beyond your title—beyond what you do—and leaning into who you are. I asked: What makes you unique? What gifts do you bring to the table just by being you?

Slowly, I watched the room soften. Faces lit up with smiles. The energy lifted. Conversations flowed. It was like the whole room began to hum with a higher vibration. I could feel that I had made people feel seen, empowered—better.

Afterward, several attendees came up to me and shared that they saw themselves in my story. That something in my words had awakened something in them. It was deeply fulfilling. I was stepping into the embodiment of the leader, the healer, the magnetic presence I had long sensed inside but hadn’t fully believed in. I was arriving. Becoming. And it felt so good. I was so happy to be here.

In the months that followed—woven with moments like these—I began to feel the call to share the story of my transformation. I started jotting down notes, little reflections, not sure where they were leading but trusting they had a purpose.

Then, in October 2022, I found myself standing in the shower, grieving yet another friendship that had unexpectedly come to an end. The ache was familiar, but this time, I gave it space. I let the tears come. I didn’t try to rush through the pain—I just stood there, quietly letting it move through me. After a while, I began to remind myself of everything I had learned. Everything I had become.

And then, from the stillness, a wave of peace washed over me.

"Unavoidable and totally basic shadows," the voice said.

I laughed—softly, sincerely—at the irony. I took a deep breath in and exhaled with a knowing sigh. I wasn’t looking for anything in that moment, but there it was.

I knew.

I was going to write a book.

In my next post, I’m taking a short detour from the memoir chapters to share a more current snapshot of my journey. It’s been three years since I first connected with that guiding voice—and since then, I’ve grown, evolved, and come to realize that what began as intuitive whispers was actually the early unfolding of something much more powerful.

I won’t go into all of that just yet (you’ll have to stay tuned!), but if you’re curious to hear how it all unfolded—and how connecting with my higher guidance eventually led to interstellar downloads—make sure to check back, or better yet, subscribe. You won’t want to miss what’s next.

Let’s just say… it’s not every day you accidentally discover you’re the radio antenna for beings from beyond.✨

With love and cosmic light,
Cassandra