St Peter SpireI’ve been in a bit of a dark place these last few days, feeling as though I “should” be dispensing inspiration, because, well, it’s my job. When I get into these dark moods, which come and go like any other cycle of nature—the waxing and waning of the lunar cycle, the way Winter gives way to Spring, or the annual suicidal plunge of Norwegian lemmings—I feel rootless and disconnected. I begin to believe the chorus of naysayers in my head, which, like Poor Johnny One-Note, has only one loud and insistent tone: caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan’t!

My particular choir, which hails from the It’s-No-Use Tabernacle (aka Church of the Unwritten Book), has a limited songbook, but I’ve got to hand it to them. They love their choir practice. They practice every. single. damned. day. I can barely make it to the keyboard to write a clever Facebook post, much less the book proposal that’s been stewing in my brain, yet they sing out my deficiencies like there’s no tomorrow.

Come to think of it, perhaps that’s the message. I get no guarantees about tomorrow, which I was reminded of yesterday by the man who delivered some furniture: “We only have this moment, so we might as well enjoy it.”

Since when does furniture come with a wisdom dispenser?

Since yesterday, apparently, when some benevolent force of the Universe understood that I needed to be on the receiving end of some wisdom. When I needed to be reminded that no one achieves anything world-changing alone, and that our teachers, mentors and supporters are everywhere. When an email appeared about a dream my soulful friend Mara dreamed, in which I’m cast as a magical human who can conjure secrets from the other side of the veil and help a whale give birth (after which I was whisked away to do media interviews, of course!).

When I needed hope, relief, lightness, and encouragement, it came to me by the buckets-full. I just didn’t notice it right away, busy as I was with my desire to “figure out” how to shift from dark to light, which, of course, has never happened to me once in my entire life. We are not wired to “figure out” what our souls want, but rather to allow the path to our deepest desires “to appear”—usually, as the word “appear” suggests, in some visual way.

So today, as I meet with my beloved collaborator* and creative muse Celia Pearson, I’ll let go of the desire to figure anything out and simply focus on what I see around me. I’ll invite my immediate environment to provide the visual cues that will spark some new understanding, provide inspiration, and guide me to whatever might be next. I’ll let you know how it goes.

*Celia will join me in leading the next “Through Your Own Lens” retreat on April 23, 2016.  For more information, visit my website at or Celia’s at




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