A Light in the Darkness
I have a wolf spirit guide named Theo. He is a beautiful white-coated wolf with piercing, light blue, ocean-like eyes that penetrate your soul. He has been showing up over the last week on the trails where I take our lab pup hiking. I have been noticing him more and more and integrating his frequent presence into my daily field of consciousness, expanding my awareness to intuitively understand why he is appearing at this time.
He has always been a spirit guide of mine in my meditations, but now he is appearing in my physical reality. I see particles moving when I look in his direction, and I see his eyes looking straight and deeply into my soul. At this time, the veil feels incredibly thin, and more people are beginning to access their own abilities—to listen to their inner guidance and spirit guides, and to discern what is truly their own reality versus what is being externalized in the matrix.
That being said, I share this experience of my wolf spirit guide as a reminder that we are all walking toward the light in the midst of darkness. Theo reminds me that even in the deep holes of grief, madness, and destruction that we are witnessing unfold on our beautiful planet, we must continue to walk toward the light within ourselves—trusting that things often get worse before they get better. The medicine is rooted in the darkness, and we have the power within us to alchemize it.
His eyes represent a direct line to healing—blue like calm, cool waters that soothe our nervous system and auric field, creating a ripple effect throughout our bodies and allowing us to surrender to the knowing that everything is going to be okay. While the external world moves through its own cycles of chaos, it is incredibly important that we remain centered within ourselves, creating a stable field of consciousness, leading by example, and supporting our own healing journey in whatever way that looks like.
I have been walking alone in the darkness, living among the trees of the PNW this past year. To witness this white wolf appearing as I begin to slowly make my way back to Colorado truly feels like a sign of a new beginning. Life in Washington has been quiet, life-altering, and lonely—in the way my soul needed in order to grieve my beloved soulmate dog. With that in mind, this time has allowed me to feel the full depths of grief in the hands of the forest itself, knowing I would use this space to learn the medicine of the darkness and allow it to propel my growth as I return. I have never once forgotten or accepted that Porter has left me. In the physical body, he is not here, but in the spirit, he is always near. He shows up in the form of a big yellow and black butterfly or a hummingbird.
Theo remains nearby as a reminder that we have the ability to tap into the realm of the animal kingdom—especially those of us who share deep kinship with our animals. This connection is not separate from us, but an extension of our own inner knowing. And maybe, in remembering this, we begin to trust that the love we share with them never truly leaves—it simply finds new ways to reach us, guide us, and walk beside us.
