it is no mistake

That when the sky is clearest, the sun is strongest and the stars are brightest, I just know what’s next.

It’s as though the entire universe plotting out one clear, fluid motion in the direction of divinity.

Advertisements

More Coelho

I just finished the third Coelho book I’ve picked up in the past week. “By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept” is probably best described as a love story. But it’s not at the same time.

It’s hard for me to explain right now because the answer is just formulating in my mind. The better parts of me understand it–I can feel it–but my brain is always the last to figure these things out.

At any rate, the last question R. and I had three weeks ago was “Why St. Mary’s?” And this book definitely had the answer to that.

It’s about divinity. And the energy that is female that is often left out of beliefs about God. It’s an interesting theory, and something that has been coming to me in pieces like everything else in the last four months.

From that horror of that day awakening something inside of me. To a friend’s tattoo. To a dream.

I haven’t told anyone about this, but I’ve started having recurring dreams again. They’re not as frequent or painful as the desert ones, and I know exactly where I am in these dreams. Well, sort of. But I know who would know where I am.

There was a hike I took once. I had to be between the ages of 8 and 10. It ended in a canyon with a lake. And there was a small dock. My father took three of us and sat us at the end of the dock. He told us to take our shoes off and let our feet feel the water. Then, he told us to be quiet and listen.

He always made camping about God. I think that’s why I miss it so much. He wasn’t and isn’t too preach-y, but he would always say that “one thing” that I carry with me to this day.

Now, in the dreams I’m alone. And I walk to the end of the dock and take my shoes off. I sit there, and a woman appears. I didn’t know who it was until yesterday. I had an idea, but I wanted to be sure.

Sometimes she says something simple like hello. Most times she just sits with me. She always has a message though.

The female form of divinity.

I get it.

“Write Away”

When I went to the library the other day to pick up “The Alchemist,” I was on a mission to find one of the books suggested by that website that sponsors the write a novel in a month project. Of course, that led me to wander the section about writing by writers.

I picked up a book by Elizabeth George called “Write Away.” I will admit that I’ve never read any of her fiction. (Although, I will pick up one of her books now.) She writes mysteries.

The draft that I’m working on right now (which matches the word count on the right side of this blog) is far from a mystery. It’s more like a fairy tale. A fairy tale of something I’d love to do. My protagonist is a female manager of a minor league baseball team. I’m sure that I will finish this first draft in time for my self-imposed deadline.

I’m also sure that it’s garbage.

And I’m not saying that simply because I’m hard on myself, which I truly am–especially when it comes to my writing. I’m saying that because I realize there are a lot of the flaws in my the story. More importantly, I realize the flaws in my strategy.

I will say, though, that I knew that about fifty pages in. I also know that this has been a fabulous exercise in just “writing away.” The idea was to promote discipline, which it has.

This idea has been in my head for years. And by some weird, cosmic twist, I met someone who pushed me to start (and finish) and who has provided me with a wealth of reading material to get it done.

The best thing is that I know what I’m writing next, which is where George’s book comes in.

From landscape development (which was my huge, tragic failure in this first book) to character development (which is shoddy but not awful), I now know what the definite flaws are in the story. Of course, that could serve well for a re-write.

All of this aside, the MOST important thing to me was in the final chapters of George’s book where she described the way that she became a writer:
…instead went on to get my teaching credential in English and, later, my master’s degree in counseling/psychology. As you can imagine, all of this took years. As you can no doubt diagnose, all of this constituted an elaborate avoidance device. I call it the Divine Dance of Avoidance, and its steps are defined by the following truths: One cannot simultaneously teaching English at the high school level and write novels, since teaching English well at the high school level is generally a twelve-hour-a-day job. Also, one cannot write a novel while one is attempting to teaching English at the high school level and work on one’s master’s degree in an unrelated field. Cannot be done.

I realized what my Divine Dance of Avoidance was last Saturday around 3 p.m. No, seriously. It is that important to me. The second I closed “The Alchemist”, I knew what the problem was. What the problem has been for 6–if not more–years.

It’s the reason I couldn’t answer the question about bliss. The reason I struggle even when I’m doing something I enjoy. And more importantly, it’s the reason I’m fully prepared to be “all in” if things work out the way I think they may.

So, hopefully, my blog posting tomorrow night will be titled “ALL IN.” And at that moment the Divine Dance of Avoidance will have ended and Divinity in Motion (which has been posted over my desk at work) will finally kick in.