🌙 When Spirit Sent a Song

There are seasons in a person’s life when even beauty becomes unbearable.

For me, music was once that kind of beauty — too powerful, too tender, too true. After heartbreak carved its quiet ache into the deepest parts of me, I found I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. Not to anything. Not even the soft songs.

Some music still lingers behind a closed door in my soul — one I’m not ready to open. Now and then, a line drifts through the distance — Did you say she was pretty? Did you say she loved you? — and I have to turn my face away. Because I don’t want to know. Some truths never bring peace, and it’s a quiet kind of torment to try and make sense of what was never meant to be understood.

So for a long time, I lived in silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that holds you still so you don’t shatter. I didn’t reach for melody. I didn’t invite harmony. I didn’t make space for the risk of remembering.

I just moved through the motions — quietly, carefully, surviving one day at a time.

And then, without searching, a song found me. It came gently, like a breeze through a window I didn’t know I’d left cracked open.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t bold. It was humble — a song about small gestures and everyday love. About rain and apples, warm meals and steady presence. About the kind of devotion that doesn’t need to be loud to be true. And for the first time in three years, I didn’t turn it off.

I let it in.

That moment didn’t feel like an explosion or a breakthrough. It felt like breath. It felt like Spirit saying, “You’re safe now. You can feel again. Just a little.”

And I did.

Not all at once. Not recklessly. Just enough to remember that I have always believed in a love that is real — a love that doesn’t perform, doesn’t disappear, and doesn’t need to be explained.

A love that makes the coffee, wipes down the counters, folds the blanket at the foot of the bed. That kind of love still exists. That kind of love is sacred.

If you’re in a quiet season — one where even music feels too loud — I want to gently say: There’s no shame in silence. There’s nothing wrong with needing time. You haven’t missed your moment. You’re not behind. You’re not broken.

Your soul knows what it’s doing.

And one day, when it’s ready, a song will find its way through the stillness. It may not look like much from the outside. But inside, you’ll know — something just shifted. And that shift will carry you back to yourself, one note at a time.

🌒 The darkness is not a grave. It is a womb. A place of quiet transformation. A sacred space where healing is conceived before it ever becomes light. When the song finally finds you, it is not the end of your grief — it is the beginning of your return.

Let it in. Let it awaken you. Even if only for a moment.

This journey through silence has reminded me that even in the absence of sound, Spirit is still singing. The song may be quiet, the healing slow, but it is always unfolding — faithfully, gently, and in divine timing. If my heart can find its way back to music, so can yours.

Onwards and upwards,

Cindy Kay JonesSpiritual Medium & Animal Communicator, SBA

The Competence of Quiet

Stillness came that morning as a hungry competitor to Quiet. Stillness raised its lowered head and asked Quiet "Will you let me just be?" Quiet looked beyond Stillness and gave no answer as that is it's way. Silence then emerged from behind them both. Quiet, Stillness and Silence - together at last.

I sat in meditation this evening. The quiet surroundings gave way to an ideal meditation experience. Yet, my sincere intentions of letting go, leaving this physical world were met with harsh reality. Quiet indeed were the surroundings, yet Stillness would not come. I had invited Stillness to join us, myself and the Quiet, but Stillness would not come. My heart, my intense yearning, my every want to let go - wouldn't. I was here, a construct of the physical world feeling the memories pressed between pages of yesterday whose images are blurred...intentionally Too painful still to be remembered...Perhaps that is why Stillness would not come. Silence intensifying around me, a deafening hush. The moments ticking away yet I long to be where time does not exist. The distractions of the physical world are many and oh so heavy. Each distraction worming it's way into my awareness until it's an appendage. Excess. Bagagge. Dead Weight. Meditation is what I sought this morning to cut loose that which weights me down and Stillness did not come. Quiet meet me in the room but Stillness did not come. I sat properly positioned in my space - Silence gently took my hand - but Stillness did not come. My inner self still grieving the immense loss. Gut punched. Quiet took my hand and gently placed it on my heart. "We are all here, but you don't listen. This is hard for you but everything is until it gets easy" said the competence of Quiet. Silence gave his approval... and then Stillness joined us all in the room from whence a new presence was felt...Peace.

Breath and Just Be -

Spiritual Medium and Animal Communicator

Cindy Kay Jones

My Return From The Edge

I recently sat by the mighty ocean's edge as the rhythmic ebb and flow of the salty water kissed my feet. My mind contemplating the past few years of my ongoing spiritual struggle. The trials of life seemed too overbearing to share with you here. My penchant for privacy and my school of hard knocks learned caution to escape being judged rose up inside myself like a burning fire. One that burns hot yet is controlled. It's been a difficult past 3 years with the past year and half being the absolute darkest experience of my entire life. Yet, it truly is in the darkness that the light of the Divine shines the brighest.

I started a deep dive into my spiritual growth in 2012. Through the unfoldment of my path I've been fortunate to work as a Spiritual Medium and Animal Communicator throughout US, Europe and Asia. I gave myself fully to the service of others while at the same time working a 9 to 5 desk job. I experienced burnout and it was truly a living nightmare - except in nightmares one can wake up. I never had the gift of waking up until June 22, 2023. This was the day that I returned from the edge. It was the day that the light began to shine thru the shattered cracks of my soul. The light of the Divine is still like a healing balm warming my heart to the peace of the present moment.

The gift of being a medium is truly one that I have embraced and pushed away. I embrace my gift today, knowing that I am a medium. No matter what others believe, say, write, or whisper, I am a medium. I have the gift of communicating with animals. The eyes of animals are so much more forgiving than the eyes of man. I am a psychic. I know the portend of events to come, past events that you've told no-one, and the palette of colors yet to be painted in-between. I know that I am different as self awareness shrouds me. It's a gift from the Divine and I didn't choose it. It chose me.

It's in the "ow's" of life, the pain, the rejection, the broken heart, the worries, the separation, the sting of death that clients contact me. I am your last port of call. No one calls a mystic at the onset of a trial. It's when the suffering soul has exhausted all efforts within their grasp that you will contact me - another soul which has suffered great pain indeed - but has allowed that pain to be transformed into purpose. Your pain has a purpose as well. Together we will discover what it is. A wonderful benefit to having a private sitting with me.

It's in the healing of my own pain that I am able to be of service to you. The gift is not being a mystic but much like the mythical bird phoenix the gift is rising from the ashes each and every time. Reborn and renewed. The dark night of the soul is over.

I have returned from the edge. I am ready to be of service to you. Namaste.