The spirit doesn’t shout—it waits. LaTausha writes about learning to hear what the world’s
noise tries so hard to drown out

I’ve learned that the spiritual world doesn’t shout.

It whispers — steady, patient, waiting for you to quiet down long enough to hear what’s been there all along.

For most of my life, I thought I was just overthinking. I’d feel a chill in an empty room, or hear a name I hadn’t spoken in years come to mind, soft but sure. I brushed it off as imagination. But the more I ran from it, the louder life’s chaos became. The more I ignored what I felt, the heavier everything grew.

There’s a kind of noise this world trains us to live with — the noise of fear, schedules, opinions, guilt, pride. It fills every space until there’s no room left for truth to breathe. But when everything I’d built began to crumble — when jail walls, heartbreak, and loss stripped away the noise — I realized those quiet moments had always been the realest ones.

The spirit world has its own language. It doesn’t always come with angels and signs in the sky. Sometimes it’s a small nudge that keeps you from walking into the wrong room. Sometimes it’s the ache you feel when someone isn’t meant to stay in your life anymore. Sometimes it’s a peace that settles over you in the middle of the storm, no explanation attached.

We’re all connected to that realm, whether we admit it or not. Some of us are just more aware of it because life pushed us closer to the edge — to the place where you start asking questions that the world can’t answer.

Listening beyond the noise isn’t about religion or rituals. It’s about honesty.

It’s asking, What do I really feel right now?

It’s noticing when your body tenses for no reason, when your spirit grows quiet around certain people, or when you sense a shift before it happens. That’s not coincidence. That’s communication.

But you can’t hear it if you’re always trying to be louder than your own truth.

When I finally stopped running, I realized that the spirit world doesn’t come to scare you — it comes to steady you. It brings understanding in places where logic fails. It reminds you that nothing is random, not even your pain.

I’ve come to believe that God uses both worlds — the seen and the unseen — to reach us. One through sight, the other through knowing. When you begin to trust that quiet knowing, you start to see patterns that make sense only in hindsight. You start to see that some losses were protection, and some endings were mercy in disguise.

So if you’ve been feeling something stir just beneath the surface — pay attention.If your heart hesitates before a choice, or peace refuses to follow someone’s presence, trust that. That’s your guidance speaking.

The noise of this world will always try to drown it out, but the spirit has patience that time can’t touch. It will wait until you’re ready to listen.

And when you do, you’ll find that the answers were never far away. They were waiting in the quiet, calling you home to yourself.