Memories. Some are firmly planted. The family stories we tell over and over. Those for which we have photographs to takes us back in time. Or those recalled by other's stories and reminiscences. Others are just a faint whisper, a feather's touch, best uncovered slowly by looking only with the corner of our eyes.

While the easily recalled stories make up our public persona, I sometimes think it is these shadow memories which make up our inner core of strength. They are the source of our power and our unique gifts. Perhaps they feed our intuition, our sense of knowing which is the way to go. Collective memory as Jung suggested? An inner voice of God? The gentle touch of a mother's love? Perhaps all of these things and
more.

The whisper of a memory. Use the lightest feather touch; with time and patience you may find your path to wisdom.