I have been working at my craft for a long time. Through the dark night of the soul I wrote. Through the desolation and the isolation, through the guilt, self-judgement and remorse, I wrote on. I don’t know how these things work. I begin to study esoteric spirituality, the messages hidden in plain sight but overlooked by the ego. When my husband got ill, I begin to write. The words from the faucet were hot and scalding, as were my tears. It never felt anything but good, though, to get my emotions down on the screen.
Now Bigger Than The Sky is out and I am really happy with how it turned out. Every word counts. Every emotion registers. I did my darnedest to be true to what I was unfolding within me. It seems the book is about peace of the everlasting variety. But in the moments that Peter fell, I am sure it hurt because he was, after all, in a physical body. He reported on the blinding pain of migraines yet he never dwelled on any one pain. Mostly he was birthing joy. I know he is smiling down as I continue to write. Perhaps he is even holding my hand.
The life of a writer, this one anyway, is extremely pared down. Take this morning. I ate a bowl of cereal and drank a cup of chai. Then I watered my plants and took a bath. Now I am right back where I belong. You can find me here most anytime, just writing words as they arise. I am learning to live my life without taking too much thought about it. I have lovely books on my shelves but I don’t read a lot. Now and again I take one down and open it to a random page. Or I read something online. But truly it is not about the words. The ones I write are meant to strike quickly to the heart; that is how I roll.
Summer is on the doorstep and that is an invitation to deep rest. Last year I was editing Bigger Than The Sky and felt a continual sense of worry over getting it just right. And for the most part, I did. Catherine Noyce of Non-Duality Press was a great help to me. She considered the book to be a very special one and it is, indeed. If you haven’t read it, put it on your list. I may or may not write a fourth one.