I’ve been eating cherries like popcorn for weeks. Yummy sweet organic cherries I keep in a pretty bowl, or fav yellow Tupperware colander, on the edge of my counter. The thing is, it’s easy to eat cherries for weeks here in the west. The stores have tables of them. They cost far less than I paid in either NC or FL. Today, as I popped one in my mouth, looked at the pile of red juice-coated seeds, I thought ‘life is like a bowl of cherries.’ With pits that can break your teeth.
I talk often about the both/and (good/bad) of life, but the past six months have felt like the extremes of that bowl of cherries for me. The best parts so juicy & sweet I love every bite. The worst hard enough to hurt. Extreme lows I don’t talk about because I truly feel I’m creating so much of my dream. The hardest days are when I feel like a lone bird flying thru a snow storm. The stresses of finance and actualizing purpose suffocating. Despite the destination so clear in my mind.
I’ve said many times I walk with angels. So, I’m gonna share how they showed up this week like juicy fruit in the midst of my snowstorm.
A friend and I shared raven stories. I’d just returned from a walk where a raven hopped down from the tip top of a very tall tree to the middle branches, clacked and called as I passed. Then it flew over my shoulder, close enough I heard the whoop whoop of its wings, and lit in a tree not far ahead of me where it talked some more. I’ve never found a feather, I told her. Later that day, feeling lucky with a parking spot close to the plaza, one large enough to swing in, park with only one back-n-forth, I discovered a long tapered wing feather from a raven on the street between my car & the curb.
Another day, out doing errands, the little voice says ‘stop for Chinese.’ I don’t feel I have time for sit-down food. Too much to do. I go, anyway.
I bite my first crunch of cookie before I look at the fortune. ‘Your opportunities are many,’ it says. 30 seconds later the phone rings. It’s the guy at the big & beautiful library in Rio Rancho, a municipality that hugs the big city Albuquerque. The library that doesn’t do author events. He wants to schedule my mini-workshop for Sept.
I ask for a second cookie, ’cause the first tasted so good. She hands me 4. The first is missing the little paper (state my own fortune?). The following three, opened in this exact order:
Now is the time to set your sights high and ‘Go for It.’
Your genuine talents will lead you to success.
You will travel far and wide.
I ate every one of those cookies.
Affirmations came in emails. An extremely well-read friend who’s not a writer says he looks forward to my blogs each week. Has started waiting for them. He sees me as a writer’s guru (his words), thinks my last writer’s-log blog was inspired.
A young woman who’d just left my mini-workshop writes:
Thanks so much for the workshop today! I had a strong urge to come and knew, as I was standing at the bus stop in the heat, that I must really want to go. If I hadn’t felt strongly led to go, I would have felt the heat and decided to stay inside! 🙂 As I sat down at the library, I told myself ‘just wait for it,’ knowing that whatever reason I was supposed to be there would show up in a matter of minutes. And sure enough, I got exactly what I needed! Several things struck a chord with me and were exactly what I needed to hear. Thanks for the boost! 🙂
They get what they need. This is so huge for me.
The sidebars. . .2 weeks of frustrating back and forth emails over money with what I believe is not a human, but some sort of auto-responder, suddenly resolved to my total satisfaction.
Sparkly little boy in Taiwan initiated Skype calls. He wants to ‘see my face,’ he says. I ask if he’s looking forward to school being out. No, I like school, he tells me. He shows me 11 pages with book titles he’s read. 166 books his parents signed off on. Made this writer proud.
And on July 4th, I took a holiday.
A friend and I met for a pancake breakfast, a 42-year tradition for the 4th here in Santa Fe. Afterwards we drove up the road to Pecos where green and water are the themes of the landscape. We walked along the creek and vibrant river at the Benedictine monastery. Basked in the peace of both silence and the sound of water. We gazed on giant majestic willows where colonies of varied birds flutter & fly in and out of the canopies. We saw wildflowers and small white butterflies. Stood at a pond with concentric rings of cattails in all stages from sticks to furry fluff, where small dragonflies whizzed over. We drove further to a swimming hole made by a short big-rock damn across the river, put our feet in icy cold water, watched youngsters and adults with tattoos jump from high rocks and land with a splash. On the way back we stopped at a Dairy Queen. I had my first choc-dipped soft-serve cone in decades. Reminded me of times with my father. I learned DQ is a tradition of my friend’s. She’s a plein air painter. After a day with nature & color, she stops for a small hot fudge sundae every time. Only once did I think about my desk and the long list of to do’s.
I’m pining for travel. Feel longing for the unknowns and discovery of new places. Desire the deep shift of immersing in different cultures. I’m a bird in a snowstorm, too ready for a support team. And at the end of this day, I know how life can be like a bowl of cherries. Much more sweet than pit.
Another small journey. Getting to Wise.
A Writer’s Life.
Tell me. . .How’s the sweet in your life?
I’ll tell you a secret. . .sometimes I just forget to take notice and observe with awareness.
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