Chocolate Love

I woke up the other morning with dating on my mind. Not just dating, the beginning of what I hope will lead to my next great romance. A commited, deliberate and purposeful go, complete with dating a while instead of just settling with the first good-enough guy that comes my way, I woke up thinking it'd be a good idea to prep my family and closest friends. I left my bed and headed straight for the computer.

The bottom line is that I wanted to make sure those near and dear to me understood I was serious. I haven't been a big fan of sharing my space. No kids by choice. I've had a few pets, but lets just say they never really worked out.

In retrospect, an e-note saying I'm interested in exploring commitment in a way I've never contemplated before isn't particulary convincing. Nonetheless, the morning started with a journal entry disquised as a email. It took longer than I thought to try to explain myself. Go figure.

With the temperature expected to top 100 (38C), I couldn't put off my walk much longer. At 9am, it already felt like 80 degrees (27C). Off the computer and onto the street. A block or so away, I made sense of my unsent message. The relationship I'm ready to welcome won't be about me. It's about accepting into my life a love that best serves the growth of my spirit, the expression of love on earth and the master plan that created our unfathomably complex universe.

A couple blocks later, I saw a little chihuahua being called by it's owner. He did a dash into a gate that she couldn't enter immediately. As soon as she made her way to it's entrance, his eyes made clear he planned to hop back through the bars to the preferred destination she opposed.

I smiled, practically chuckled. She was not amused and met my glance sternly. Once she saw my eyes and knew I was simply enjoying the dance they were doing moreso than laughing at her predicament, she relaxed a few facial muscles and flashed a quick smile.

For the most part, all the folks around my community are friendly and pleasant. As I continued about my walk, there were plenty of greetings and warm hellos. It struck me that I was being showered with love all morning. Every time someone smiled, spoke or waved it was like a little Hershey's kiss from the universe. Sure enough, as I passed that favorite spot where the muses greet me, I was overcome with a new idea. Flavorsoflove. A new blog. A new series. An accounting of all the kinds of love that flows my way on a given day.

All of us are recipients of instances of love that we take for granted. Or maybe you don't take them for granted. Maybe you notice them all the time and are grateful. For the most part, I think few of us ever recognize the many little ways the universe sends us dallops, drops and kisses of love. We notice the avalanches, the waves, the pools. Noticable patterns point out the streams of love. But every little drop?

Each drop is its own unique flavor. Forget 31! As many flavors as there are moments in a day. As many as their are humans, bees, trees, flowers, birds and the countless creatures that cross our path or command our momentary attention.

Flavors of Love. What an awesome blog, I thought. Inspired, I bounced my way back towards home. Half a block from home, I see the cutest dog running onto the sidewalk after a car stopped to try to guide it out of the street. It was a small chihuahua and looked like the same smart, frisky dog that caught my eye earlier.

Before I go any further, know that I've never cared for a dog. I've had a rabbit, a chameleon, an incredibly smart conure parrot and a mated cockatoo pair. I've only begun to really appreciate dogs over the past few years. Last fall, I stopped by the local dog pound five or six times, but there was never that special click I require to bring anything or anyone into my own.

I remember one in particular came up and sniffed me. He was so cute. Then he turned back around. When a dog facing possible death has the courage to say "we're not a match" you notice. I finally decided to do what has always worked best for me. Leave it to the universe. What's mine always comes to me. If I'm to have a dog, it'll take a might special one for me to open up my home and share my space. Better not take any chances and just be ready to recognize what's mine when presented to me.

The temperature had risen another five degrees, at least, in the fifty minutes I'd been out. Since this striking creature looked like the dog I'd enjoyed watching earlier, I couldn't in good conscience just head on home and wish him luck. I figured I'd at least walk him back to his house.

It was surprising to me how readily he followed me. Folks on the street assumed he was mine. He seemed to have a slight limp on a rear leg, so after a block, I carried him. We bonded instantly.

It turned out I'd miscalculated the distance. It was a little further that I'd estimated. After a couple rings of the doorbell, I heard a dog rustling in the backyard of the home. I began to walk away. It wasn't theirs. The situation was entirely new for me. Now that I'd walked the dog all that way, I'd have to follow through with putting up signs. I'd need to get it back to its owner or take it to the pound or...something.

Before I was completely down the driveway, the woman came out and her pooch followed. Thank God. I wasn't crazy. The two did look substantially alike. At least, I hadn't imagined the similarity. Now that I'd involved myself, time for next steps.

Flavors of Love.

I carried him the half-mile back to my place. He came in and felt natural, comfortable. He was so at peace. Odd that such a beautiful, house-broken, well-trained and perfectly tempermented dog had no tags, no collar, no chip. Too much tv news. I immediately wondered if his owner had been foreclosed upon and forced to move to an apartment that wouldn't take pets. Or maybe, he just got lost and wondered too far from his home for the owner to locate.

I took him to hang out with my family today. They can't believe how perfectly suited we are to each other. It's about accepting into my life a love that best serves the growth of my spirit, the expression of love on earth and the master plan that created our unfathomably complex universe.

Flavors of Love. He's not the first good enough dog that passed my way. He's absolutely perfect for me. More like a cat than a dog. How often I've thought I'd love an affectionate, mild-mannered dog that was as quiet, stealth and calm as a cat. That's him!

I wake up at an otherwise unreasonable hour to make sure he gets a long, leisurely walk before I head off to arrive at summer school by 7:20am. If that don't say special, I can't imagine what would.

His name is K. Chocolate.



Mmmmmmmmmmm. Chocolate everyday.

Is the universe not perfect!

As for that human relationship...Is the universe not perfect! I'll do what I've always done. Go about my life and let perfection land in my lap.


Update: It's been a month. Chocolate is now officially adopted into my home. A friend sent an email exclaiming her surprise that three weeks later I still had the dog. I had to admit to her that it is my own way of speaking of my life that friends and family question my ability to commit. The following is an excerpt from an email to her. I include it here because it is so relevant to my process.

It has never occurred to me that I could take a non-Puritan approach to relationships and assume that my way is just as valid. By "my way" I mean accepting the gift of the lesson of each relationship, embracing it and then moving on. "Moving on" always sounds so horrible in our society. The mover-on is some sort of failure who can't stick it through, who doesn't have the balls, who lacks a sense of commitment.

I remember reading about a Native American tribe in Florida and the Caribbean (my favorite places, by the way). In their culture, when a woman wanted to end a relationship she simply placed all the man's belongings outside the teepee, hut or what have you. When the man came back and saw his stuff outside, he moved along. There's still plenty of room for drama and pain and suffering in such a system, but I was struck by whatever extent this culture, this community understood that relationships should work as long as their working. We are all in agreements with each other. When the agreements don't work any longer, either because they're outdated or because there's a breach on one side or another, why must we continue to enforce it? Why do we hold the agreement as more sacred than the parties?

Which brings me to the owner of the dog that I contacted.

She sent pictures. I shared with Gilbert that I saw a resemblance. It was enough that I planned to at least set-up a meet-to-see. She said the dog's name was Tiberius. I called the name, not a muscle moved. I called Chocolate, he turns and looks and awaits what I could possibly want to do--a walk, room change?

In the end, the dog was not hers.

How long will I keep Chocolate? Who is now K. Chocolate, Kenny C, KC or Sir Kenneth Chocolate if he meets the Queen.

I sadly have to admit that I've never entered anything with the intention of staying forever. I've entered with a commitment to stick with it for the long haul. Room to define long haul, I suppose. Maybe someone who sees lifetimes as one in a series is bound to see relationships the same way.

I've never entered anything with the intention of staying forever. Eternity is so very, very long. Forever seems at odds with evolution and progress.

I wonder if the earth will be here forever? If it isn't...does that mean that God, however conceived, was never committed to her? Then again, I suppose that's still under "till a natural death" stuff like Lola. Or...can anyone else see God packing up the spirits of the dinosaurs and carrying them back to the cosmic pet store and saying, "These didn't work out like I thought. Hey, what are those? Yeah, let me get a couple thousand of those Homo Sapien Erectus cuties and see what they do on that same blue marble."

We're all made in God's image.

As for Chocolate.

He's mine...now. I intend to keep him for the long haul. Thanks to what you inspired, I can take a first deliberate look at the possibility of a commitment that lasts not just one, two or three years, but ten or fifteen.

Which brings me back to when Chocolate came to me. How he came to me in the very spot where, outbound on my walk, I realized that my next relationship wasn't going to be about me and what I wanted, what my ego wanted, needed or felt it could handle. Clear as a blue summer sky, I knew that my next relationship was going to be about God's will, God's plan, spiritual growth and spiritual commitment.

So, I correct myself. Chocolate is not mine. Chocolate and I belong to one another. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh. So glad you inspired all this.

That's what is different this time. This is why your comment about three weeks didn't ruffle my feathers. You were expressing that something seemed different with KC, Mr. Chocolate. Whether you knew the how or why or not, you were right.

Humbled Obedience

With each day I get a little more obedient to the urgings and nudgings of the universe. I was to go to a Borders bookstore about twenty minutes away. I'd taken the time to talk a while on the phone before leaving and was considering a change in clothes to dress a little warmer for the evening.

Destiny, fate--"You'll be going there. No, not that other Borders. Yes, that far. No you can't go later, you should have left already." Still in my summer dress, I reached for my keys and headed out the door.

I get to the mall and entertainment complex and have the nerve to dilly-dally. Maybe I'll buy a jacket first. I go through a couple sale racks of jackets. There was nothing there for me. Back on the path of obedience, I finally head down to the bookstore.

I picked up a copy of the latest issue of Caribbean magazine; a copy of "A New Earth.." by Tolle; and a Creative Visualization workbook I didn't plan on, but which was part of the reason I was there. What was in it for me at the bookstore revealed itself within ten minutes of my being there.

There was a comfortable seating area near the front of store with six comfy chairs spaced in irregular intervals about a large bay-style window. I'd noticed them when I walked and took myself to one of the chairs with my reading material. There was a guy two chairs over who kept making this weird near-giggle sound as he read. I noted he must be reading something funny.

What turned out to be funny was the way his sounds were spaced in regular intervals. I've never known a book to rhythmically place the funny parts so that they're spread every minute or so. What was funnier still, was that as different people came and went in the seating area he would manage to contain his outbursts. It took a long time, till I was nearly done with my reading, before I realized that he was specifically doing it to either annoy me or get my attention. When someone was between us, he hardly made a peep. When a guy was on the other side of him, same thing. Thanks to the distraction he created, I took a moment to look up from my reading and pay attention to my surroundings. In particular, I took a few moments to notice the people in the immediate area. It's almost sad the way I can go through life and not pay the people around me any greater attention that I do the walls. I rarely go a day without thanking and blessing the sun or marveling at a tree. I'm not nearly so good about acknowledging the God in people, let alone making it a practice to see it.

What I saw upon glancing around:
A group of loud teenagers.
A pair of young lovers where the guys shows his devotion by pretending to enjoy sitting around while she reads.
An older woman unable to decide what to do--pick up the book she was glancing at or move along or sit down.

And then it hit me to anchor light into everyone in the store. It's not exactly practicing Reiki. I've been moving toward healing with light in place of the Reiki symbols. It's more intuitive and the energy feels cleaner, lighter. In this instance it was basically visualizing an increase in the white light coming through their crown chakras. I don't force the healing energy on the unsuspecting. Free will means everyone has the right to grow, progress and heal at their own pace. My role is simply to be a vehicle inviting the light down to each person. The light reaches down and is made readily available to any whose souls choose not to refuse.

As I focused my intention on visualing white light descending into each person, I had a wondrous experience. Energetically, I could sense the location and presence of every person in the store. Whether in adjoining rooms, behind rows and rows of shelves. After a few moments, I noticed my vision shifting and I was no longer looking at physical things. My perception shifted from my phyical eyes to, I'm guessing here, to my third eye. The density of people and things in the store shifted to something more akin to clouds. Instead of physical matter, everything thing looked like thick, heavy white clouds--the ones that move really really slow across the sky. There is shape, but no substance.

The funnels of white light that poured into these floating beings, formerly people, became overwhelming. I feared I might slip into a trance and look weird to anyone glancing my way. Talk about a new experience. Basically, it was a bit surreal, even for me.

In that moment, I suddenly understood why I had to go there, to that bookstore, at that time. I have no idea how the universe assembled that particular collection of individuals in the store at that moment. No idea who needed healing energy, who may have needed a blessing, or who may have even received some "miracle" of insight or inspiration by my going there to anchor in a little light for that brief interval. I did know with certainty afterwards, that I'd been of service.

Following an urge and being the means to someone else's blessing is something all of us do all the time. We don't always know it. It isn't always something that stands out to us while it is happening. As more than a handful of cutesy emails have suggested, something as simply as taking a moment to smile at someone and wish them a good day has the power to reverse a mood, change a day, perhaps a future.

After the experience with the light, I congratulated myself on my obedience and felt pretty fulfilled. I returned to my book. Anolder woman that sat between myself and the noisy gentleman for a while had come and gone, so he was back to making his periodic grunting chuckles.

Then a woman spoke above a whisper to ask another young lady if she could use her cell phone. That's a rarity. I can honestly say I've never seen a stranger ask someone to use their cell phone. She explained in tones that alteranted between frustration and agitation that she'd been waiting for her husband for a while now, didn't have her own phone, and wanted to check his status.

I'm fairly certain she was Persian and spoke Farsi into the phone. I don't speak Farsi, but I translated the conversation. "Where are you. You were supposed to be here already. I can't believe you had me waiting all this time." What I'd guess was unspoken but understood by her husband was, "you do this all the time, and though I have no way to get back at you this moment, you should expect to pay for this at sometime in the near future as soon as I can figure a way to stick it to you without jeopardizing the little power I currently have over my day, my self and my life." A loose translation.

She paced back and forth after she hung up and returned the phone to her benefactor. We are all saints and angels in the course of a day. Sometimes little demons, too.

She was so distracting, I couldn't read. I kept getting this image in my head of inviting her to sit in the vacant chair next to me and asking if I could hold her hand with the intention of sending Reiki in this way. Not surreptitiously mind you. Straight out ask, "Excuse me. Would you mind sitting here and letting me hold your hand a while? I practice Reiki and energy healing and would really like the opportunity to anchor some positive energy, some light into your being."

Having just finished being so self-satisfied with my obedience at anonymous healing, I was confronted by the limits of my obedience. Leave it to the universe to keep me from getting big-headed about my willingness to serve. When given an opportunity to step out of the shadows and into the light, to put my pride aside and open myself to a sideways glance or reasonable rejection, I cower and hide and send a little energy anonymously.

Oh, how I agonized. At one point, I thought I'd do it. I'd risk sounding and looking ridiculous. Funny thing, too. At the moment I thought seriously of breaking all social norms, she paced toward me, stood six inches just to the right of me and paused a long while. Long enough for me to have invited once, twice, three times...I wasn't going to do it. And she walked away. As if God, the angels said, "Here you go. Afraid to walk over, we'll make it even easier."

My email signature is a line that I hope becomes part of my current project: "In Heaven, we have a motto: It's no one's job to save the world. If everyone would do the job they're assigned, live their best life, the world wouldn't need saving."

If that was my job in that moment, to just step out of my comfort level and do what I do in the shadows in the light of day...I can see why God has to send saviors.

writing buddies

A short blurb. I was hitting a wall and feeling a little frustrated. I wanted to download more details about my current writing project. I knew two things needed to happen. Both required crystal assistance.

The layout: 12 o'clock--celestite, transchanneling and blue halite. 2 o'clock-opalite. At 4, 6 and 8 o'clock my three moqui balls. Finally, at 10 o'clock-spectrolite sphere.

There was a hang-up. There was someone whose energy kept hanging around me. I couldn't figure out what to do about it. Finally, it dawned on me to send this person healing energy and free myself of the attachment. Fantastic.

I've been noticing that I no longer rely on Reiki symbols, but am progressively more intuitive. More and more I am using light as my primary healing tool. The colors, shapes and uses of different wavelengths of light present themselves in partnership with my intention. I still use symbols on occasion, but less and less so. These come intuitively as well.

I set-up my writing space for sketching out the novels big picture and scenes. I invoked a standard prayer and proceeded to send the healing. It felt successful. I sealed up both our auras and then prayed for my writing to progress.

Did it? I'll spare you the bulk of the details save this: There was one character whose name I couldn't make out. Keep in mind that about 15 characters, including eight of the nine major characters have come to me with names, birthdates and their backgrounds and major story lines. The one major character that held out I'd given a nickname in everything so far.

Tonight, while re-reading some of the stuff I'd written so far, I saw that I had written about her but used her daughter's name instead. I felt ready to hear her name. What exactly had been the block, I don't know.

I began to scribble something on the corner of the page. It was incomprehensible at first. Closer inspection and it began to look like some other language. This character is born and raised in Africa so I figured maybe I was playing around with how I'd expect to see her name in native script.

Further inspection and I began to recognize a couple shapes. Years and years ago I'd taken a Hebrew course at a local synagogue. A crew of African-American guys who were dabbling in Afro-Judaic studies had signed up. It sounded interesting so I tagged along.

Long story short, my right brain had to bypass my left brain to get me the name. I got so excited about it...and a little scared that I'm trippin'...when the name started to take shape I stopped.

Maybe the left brain still isn't ready.

Crystal Companions

A few weeks back, I purchased a large Herkimer piece. The large central piece is nearly four inches long with smaller herkimers partially included. I hadn't visited the farmer's market crystal stand in a long while.

While at The Om my eye settled on a large piece. I can't recall exactly what it was, but it was something new. And it was expensive. Over $100. I didn't get the sense that it was unequivocally mine and that I needed to buy it. It's energy was commanding and I needed to hold it a while, but that was it. After several minutes I sat it down. As I've noted in an earlier post, I can generally tell by energetic scan which pieces are new. My physical eye is drawn to them by the impression they make on my third eye.

After scanning the whole of the farmer's market booth, my eye settled on a very large herkimer. It was one of two they had displayed. As soon as I saw it I knew it was going home with me. It is an amazing feeling that I've described on several occasions. The certainty and clarity of what belongs to us. There are certain stones that as soon as I see them, I know they are meant to go home with me. A favorite story of a friend that helps me act on these moments deals with an item that he saw in a market on a trip to Spain. He loved it at first sight, but hesitated to make such an expensive decision hastily. By the next day, he knew with all his being that it was exquisitely perfect for him, meant for him. Unfortunately some other soul concluded the same and made the decision without hesitation.

The failure to act haunts him to this day. It isn't that his life has suffered because the item didn't make it into his hands. It's the regret of having doubted what belonged to him. A version of the girl that gets away.

Not that the point isn't made, but it also reminds me of a jacket that a motorcycle-riding buddy of mine saw at a huge convention center expo years ago. He'd tried on dozens of jackets at several different booths. Finally, there was one that was gorgeous on him. He didn't seize the moment. The next day when he went back, it was gone. Five years later, he's still in search of the perfect jacket.

Perhaps its these stories of others that enable me to take seriously those moments of certainty and act on them.

This herkimer was what I'd come to the booth to buy. I was delighted that this was the stone. Part of the delight was that it was a herkimer and everyone knows these are pretty cheap. I thought, "yeah, I dodged the $100-plus item". And then I turned over the Herkimer to reveal the price underneath. We know what I found.

No time to be cheap. I'd already committed to it, already acknowledged we belonged together. It has proven to be priceless.

Among the many smaller pieces attached about the larger herkimer was an inch-long and 1/2-inch thick herkimer which sat atop it like a child resting on it's mother's belly. It was certainly my favorite part of the whole to gaze upon and finger. It's citrine-smokey flavor gave a distinct character from its mostly clear and white host.

I bought it a few days before my trip to Turks and Caicos (TCI) and knew I was meant to take it with me. I took it and five others to be cleansed in the Caribbean Sea.

Since purchasing it, I sleep with it every night. Just over a week ago, it managed to fall to the ground. I don't know if it hit the metal of my bed frame or the lamp post, but I know the impact was enough to break it apart. Three pieces came off. The first was this very lovely smokey-citriny flavored piece perfect for the pocket each day. My days have been much more peaceful and protected since I began carrying it around.

The other is a smaller herkimer, the more typical 1/4 - 1/2 inch variety. I'm planning to have it placed in a ring setting so that I can carry this energy with me all the time--either the pocket piece or the ring. The third piece that fell off was a small slab. As for the larger piece, it is with me as I sleep every night and has been since TCI.

Why tell the tale of the breaking herkimer? It feels like a writing companion. Since purchasing the Herkimer, my ability to communicate with the muses collaborating with me on Luzca's story has increased. I had it with me on TCI when the breadth of the story typed its way onto the page while I watched.

I've been writing regularly and have seen an increase in the integrity of my personal boundaries. Beautiful stuff.

Fate went to a lot of trouble to bring that special herkimer from a mine in New York to a farmer's market on the other side of the continent. It arranged an unexpected pocket of time for me to spend ten minutes at the same market the day after I'd booked my trip when I had a ton of errands to run.

It's not always easy to say yes to fate, yes to the universe when it gives us what we want and need. At some point we learn it is even harder on us if we say no.

New life

The front half of my home is being painted as I type. Brighter colors, whiter colors. Clarity and insights.

They painted the ceiling first. It was the primary reason I embarked on painting the living room...again. I painted it a light shade of green four years ago, but left the ceiling the same drab color I erased from the walls.

A short while into spraying the ceiling the white with a slight tint of blue, the primary painter, Filiberto, asked me to come check it out. I did. Fantastic. When I saw the difference it made, just painting brightness onto the ceiling, I realized I probably could have kept the walls their green.

At the last minute I decided to ask him to do the kitchen too. In nine years living here, I never painted the kitchen before today. The nine years worth of yellowing on that tan was in as much need of lighter and brighter as the living room's ceiling. Now the place is so bright. A whole new life.

It is so fitting. Funny how I've been wanting to make my living room an attractive space for years now. The furniture I first bought eight years ago was a good start. For me, it was a good start. The painting four years ago with a light shade of green in the living area to match what I already owned made sense too.

Now, like my new vision of myself as artist
my new vision of myself as destined to live in the Caribbean
my new certainty and vision of Luzca's tale as a completed novel
I've got a completed and certain view of my living room.

The completed view made picking the right color easy. I've already got in view the furniture. When I bought the stuff eight years ago, I was open to whatever caught my eye. In other words, I had no purpose, no goal, no clue. And that worked out ok. Just ok.

Having the clarity of a complete picture works better. Buying new light fixtures will go a lot easier with a clear picture. The best way to describe the mood is light, relaxed and comfortable.

So I keep a clear a goal in my mind. I commit to it, starting at the top. Picking out the right accessory to shine my light becomes easy. The result is lighter living. Sounds about right.

As goes the home, so goes the soul.
As goes the soul, so goes the home.

Success...Shameless Bragging

I stop in the middle of bliss to share my excitement. Finally, heaven right here, right now.

My many entries are testament to my struggle to live a more authentic life, a more God-centered, bliss-filled, confident and artistic life.

This morning, success.

The key. Following my heart, heeding intuition. Oh yeah, and loving, loving, loving everyone. The power of recognizing the love that is already present in our lives. A lot of words to say living a life of gratitude and freedom?

I haven't walked in weeks, not since I came back from TCI. This morning I was in the mood. I'd had a fitful sleep for two reasons. Firstly, it's hot. Not a fan of air-conditioning unless absolutely necessary, I slept with the windows open and ditched the blankets. The only problem with this is that as the air cools, I wake up every couple hours to add a layer of clothing or covering. The second reason would be an entry unto itself, but the sum of it was that the night before brought me even closer to understanding the power of accepting and appreciating the love in our lives in all its varied forms.

This morning I was able to follow my heart, take my walk. When I got home I didn't do my usual. Usually, after a Saturday morning walk, I take a shower while my chai tea steeps and then sit down all fresh and relaxed to read the morning paper. This morning my heart said do something different. I did.

After my long post-walk stretch, I did as my heart moved me, I turned on the computer to work on my book. Can you believe it??? Dear reader. If you've read anything of mine, you know that I talk about writing more than I write on most days. You've probably sniffed out that I am afraid of my power to write, that I fear my perceived inadequacy for the task, and that I come up with a ton of distractions, excuses and justifications for doing everything but actually writing this book for which passion burns in my bosom.

And here I was following my heart. I sat down to type. I don't actually "write" very often unless I'm sketching a scene or working out the plot lines through journaling.

This morning I worked on the writing. The words. This is the part I most fear, most dread. It is such a fine line between writing for an audience and simply writing from my heart while still taking care with word choice. The former creates trite dribble, the latter, when I can do it, creates stuff I love enough to fine tune in the manner a craftsman might work a block a wood until the sculpture waiting to be set free is allowed to display for all its perfected existence.

The intial scene I laid down on Thursday evening. I left work with a pressing need to hurry home and write. I heard and I obeyed. It was thrilling. I sat at the computer and began to type. That is what I was editing and expanding on this morning.

Thursday's pressing urgency made sense as I got home and started typing up the scene that came to me. The true gift I was to receive wasn't the scene itself but, finally, a view to the story's outline and structure.

I'm going to speak my truth and shame the devil: I shook and shivered and then stumbled from my back room where I type down the hall and then fell out on the floor in the center of my home. Dramatic, I know. And yet, it's the truth. It wasn't what I'd anticipated or expected. I thought I was just going to "receive" a scene. Instead, I got the book's structure, tone and a general sense of its organization and style. Unprecedented. It's like praying to God for a good meal when you've been having the same tired sustenance for days on end. You just hope it will be something hot and delicious...and different. He asks if you're willing to do what he asks for it. Desperate, you agree.

In this case, I agree to go home and type.

Having followed what he places in your heart, you open a door that you'd passed day after day after day, never noticing or giving it much attention. He says open it, you do. Inside is the spread of lifetime. Forget buffet. We're talking a refined, handsome waiter who delivers the most exceptional seven-course meal your imagination never could conceive. Only it's all the stuff you swore times past you didn't like. Turns out you like it just fine when the ingredients are fresh and the dish prepared with love. Good thing the chef chose the meal for you and you weren't given the option to dictate your own blessing.

Do you blame me for shaking, shivering and stumbling my way onto the ground in disbelief? The story isn't anything I'd have chosen for myself to work on and yet I am delighted with it. The way it is to be told scares me. (Yes, I'm deliberately evasive as I wait to fully make peace with it and receive a fuller vision.)

On the way home earlier that Thursday evening I listened to an National Public Radio show on books. An author was being interviewed. The universe at work. Something from the show combines with conversations I've had recently with a buddy and I realize I don't have to "like" what I write. I'm not saying I can write something horrid or that I'm detached from it. Just that I can stop waiting to absolutely, 100% love each and every aspect of my story. It isn't about me. It's a story. It's got it's own life. I was open to letting it be what it needed to be. Stumble, stumble, fall.

I've often equated works of art to children, and the co-creators--the authors or musicians or sculptors, etc.--to parent figures who nurse the work into existence, into maturity. I truly believe, even moreso now, that works of art, great or small, good or bad, are no less gifts given for safekeeping and care than children. Of course, I'm childless, so if I offend anyone who believes children are more precious than works of art, you are welcome to indulge yourself by considering it a reflection of my ignorance.

This morning the baby asked to be held. I didn't ignore it or make any excuses.

I sat at the computer and was shocked to see what beauty God had delivered to me for nurturance and development.

Success. The experience of writing. It's own joy. Bliss. Heaven on earth.

Co-creation is a joy.

Done writing about writing, back to bliss I go.

I'm a (true) believer...

It's happening.

God truly places certain people in our lives to help us reach our goals. This isn't anything new to anyone who'd find their way to this blog. As commonplace and accepted a notion as this is, it still amazes me when I reflect on specific folks. Each and every one of my friends are uniquely important to me. I don't have a wide circle. I wouldn't even call it a circle. Not even a web, really. I have very specific individuals in my life who offer unique friendships. They are people who'd only find themselves all in the same room if it was a party for me. What they have in common is a desire to grow, to stretch themselves and to become their best person at whatever the cost.

These are folks who are willing to work at themselves. Continuously!

Tonight I had a fantastic time writing. Last night I went to a session on NLP, Neuro-Linguistic Programming. It was sponsored by newest girlfriend's new boyfriend. I went with an open mind. She only mentioned it to me the day before, after joining me for a meal at a Thai restaurant after church. She was such a good sport. I wanted that place and only that place, but wasn't sure I remembered the street. She was up for the adventure. I love that about all my friends.

As we got out she mentions that she'll be going to this gathering about NLP. I'd heard about it before and was immediately intrigued. I asked if it was OK to invit myself.

I share this and the importance of the people we draw into our lives, because in that workshop, they did a goal-setting exercise that included a 24-hour objective and one for a week's time. I set as my goal to allow my fingers and intuition to create at least one new scene within twenty-four hours.

That's just been done.

The week goal is to complete--build-up the details and edit--one of the scenes I typed up on Provo, TCI. I already began that process tonight as well.

It is amazing what can be done with the support of our loved ones.

Last weekend I shared the details for the first time with my oldest friends. Each of them offered unconditional support. The night before going to my new church, my "oldest buddy" spent the night. I have to put "oldest buddy" in quotes because technically I met another buddy eight months earlier. He is literally the oldest, that's true. But I also feel like he's the oldest because we always talk about going back so many lifetimes ago. We laugh about going back so far that he remembers the time I got kicked out of the cave for bringing back a still-on-fire lightning-struck branch. I couldn't figure out why no one else thought it was the coolest discovery. That was the first lifetime he had to save me from myself and from what I make others want to do to me when I go off all excited and blinded to consequences by the bliss of adventure.

This buddy spent the night Saturday night as a quick stopover between celebrating a big event with his family and driving several hundred miles back to the home he and his wife just relocated to a few months back. Like all my buddies, his encouragement was done in a style and manner uniquely his. He challenged me to make the most of this writing opportunity.

Long blog to say a public "THANK YOU!!!!" to all of you for listening to me and encouraging me and participating with me as I embark on this adventure. It is new territory. I spent more than a year fighting fear and doubt just to get to this point where I am willing to set a 24-hour goal to write a scene...and then do it.

Last night's NLP meditation and goal-setting session helped me actually visualize having two completed chapters by September. The funny thing, though, was that as soon as I tried to visualize that, trying to meet the suggestion of "realiztic", I found a deeper part assuring me that the storyline would be completed by then. Mind you, I said storyline. The development of the scenes into a format that has a singular, consistent and narratively sophisticated tone...

The NLP group meets again next week.

Separately...I've found MY new church.
She's been telling me about this church for months. As soon as I came back from my trip, I was interested, it was on my mind. Now I know why. It's exactly the environment I need as I dive into the process of writing this book from a place of commitment and working on finding my way to my island home.

Early into the service and all the way through to the end, I felt like I belonged there. That's never happened to me, by the way. Walk into a church and feel completely and entirely at home. She goes several times a year. I may eventually do so too, but for now plan to go every week for a while. I want to get a better feel for the entire ministry. It resonates with everything about me and my spirituality and beliefs. I'm good for love at first sight. We'll see in a month if it is all that I thought. My ex-husband and I were also love at first sight.

(now that I'm really spending time writing my book, expect my posts to read more and more like the first-drafts they are more and more likely to be. And if you can't tell the difference...keep that to yourself:))