Genesis

Saturday, March 18, 2006 ~ Santa Fe, New Mexico

I wake up this morning with an oddly disconcerting thought. What if all this guidance about writing my novel is nothing more than a make-work project to keep me out of my own way?

This is not to denigrate The StarQuest. Nor have I stopped working on it.

But consider this (I tell myself). Even as I have no clear idea of what to do next or where to live next (given that my agreed-upon time in this casita is drawing to an end), these truths are self-evident:

1) For the past two weeks, I've had little energy to do much other than sleep.
2) The only "work" I have felt called to do has involved writing.
3) My daughter arrives tomorrow for a week's stay, during which she will occupy 100% of my focus.

What if all these have been set in motion (including the timing of my daughter's visit) to guarantee that I make no plans, seek out no housing and relax into the beingness of waiting?

Interesting question, to which I have no more answer than to any of the other questions of recent times.

What I know is this: With more energy and without the call to write, I would have felt more of a pull to try to figure out what's next in my life. I certainly would have felt a need to call in a new housing situation.

I say none of this to minimize the importance of writing in my life. It has been the one constant in the midst of more than three decades of flux.

Yet it's an interesting question. And it reminds me that, at the human level, I am largely blind to the greater forces of divinity at play in my life. Even the human imagination, as wondrous as it is, has limits that my divine pilot willfully ignores.

More times than I can enumerate, my life has looked one way in one moment only to be irrevocably transformed in the next - in ways I could never have planned, plotted or imagined.

The evening I met my ex-wife was one of the those. The moment my daughter was born was another. The day my marriage ended, yet another.

Of these, only my daughter's birth was expected. Yet its impact on my life could never have been figured out by a mind bound by the limits of its imagination.

In this moment, I have no plans to suspend work on my book. I also have no plans to make plans.

Over the past several days, I have created two new drawings (pictured above) - one of St. Francis Cathedral here in Santa Fe and one of Round Mountain in southern New Mexico. If you're familiar with my art prints, you know that once completed, they speak to me of their energetic qualities. (These are vibrational attributes that can assist with healing in much the same way that crystals can).

It's no coincidence that the first drawing works with things like unlimited faith and trust in the unknown, while the second helps with unconditional commitment to your path and surrender to higher power.

These are clearly energies that I can use some help with as I allow the forces of the invisible to work their magic.

In my book The Voice of the Muse: Answering the Call to Write, I write about the miracle of the seed. The seed germinates and begins its growth underground, in a place protected from our prying eyes and hands. In its time, not ours, the tender shoot pokes above the surface, ready to continue its journey in the realm of the visible.

We pass through similar phases throughout our life. At such times, a seed of our mastery lies beneath the level of conscious awareness, the only place it can begin its journey untouched by our human fears, conditioning and perceived limitations.

While the seedling we have planted is still underground, all we can do is provide the light, water and fertilizer it needs - in unconditional faith and commitment.

Today, many of us are nurturing a similar seedling within our souls.

I know I am.

Even in my frustration and fear, even through my consternation and concern, all I can do is provide it the sustenance it needs to mature into a physical expression of my divinity.

All I can do is trust in the unknown and surrender.

Interestingly, the drawing of St. Francis Cathedral also works with expansion and illumination, while Round Mountain is an activation into spiritual leadership.

Ultimately, that's where our faith and commitment carry us. In the meantime, whatever we think we're doing, in truth we're watering a flower whose beauty and color are still in genesis.

In the beginning, the Bible says, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

Whether I'm writing or sleeping, whether I'm worrying or wondering, the spirit of my divinity is engaged in the miracle of the creation of my life.

The best thing I can do is get out of the way.

Whether writing on The StarQuest is simply that or something more doesn't really matter. What matters is that I trust and allow the expansion, that I free myself to grow into the illumination.

God didn't force light and form onto the emptiness of the void. He allowed it. And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light.

So it is for me. And so it is for you.