The Space Between Life's Lessons

Some of you may have noticed a lag between posts recently, which may imply I’m not writing as much. Au contraire. Last week I wrote at least six hours a day, sometimes seven and eight. What am I spending so much time writing if not Lessons from the Cockpit? Read on.

Readers sensed something brewing when I posted “Make the Leap.” Although I knew my end goal and held the destination foremost in mind, I was unsure when I'd make the leap and start the journey toward it. But sometimes the destination moves toward us. Recently, I felt a palpable shift in my life, a swirling energy gathering beyond the horizon. The clear skies circling me gave no indication anything differed from my normal routine, yet I knew the swirl approached, could feel it in my being. I kept angling my body in its direction with anticipation. I liken it to a summer storm where we can’t see the thunderheads building because they’re too far away or the tree line blocks them from view, but we know it’s coming. A breeze kicks up. The temperature drops five degrees. The tree leaves flash their pale green underbellies in rippling waves.

Before you think this energy was something ominous, let me say this. Some people don’t like storms, but not me. I get excited. Why? Because storms break up life’s monotony. They come when you’ve had ten scorchers in a row and are sick of the heat. They blow in just as you find yourself thinking, Is this all there is?  They show up when you need rescue from a hypnotic routine, and while they’re thundering toward you, as you imagine the aftermath, you suspect you might not be the same person you were before. Storms bring the potential for change, and the potential for change is another way to say hope.

Storms may not be so fun in the middle of them when they’ve descended in a fierce huff and puff, but after one has rumbled through, I relish the altered landscape. In its wake, crisp air stirs the soul. The sky wells a deeper blue. The world glistens in a bright, new landscape ripe for discovery not only for the route never taken but also for the familiar viewed through fresh eyes.

Back to what was happening. As this new energy advanced toward me, edging into view on my mind’s horizon, I faced toward it, losing myself in the cosmic artistry of its swells and churns, ready for anything. When its surge blew open an unexpected door near me, I leapt through it without hesitation, no glancing behind to learn if it had closed or not. Maybe that door still stands open, but even if it is, I’ll never return through it. My mind slammed that door shut to seal it forever. That’s all that matters. I have too many open doors now to run, leap and fly through instead.

Now, I’m writing full-time for the summer, working toward a solid draft of my first novel by the end of September. I’ll tuck it away for a month—won’t even peek at it—while working on other pursuits. I can’t say what they are now, but they’ll become apparent at some point. Then in November and December, I’ll edit it and go from there.

Many ask about the book’s premise. I’m happy to tell them… in person. So if you bump into me and want to know… ask.

The book is fiction. But the message, and way of interacting with life, are not. I’ve had amazing, wondrous events happen, not because I’m lucky, but because I’ve started looking for, and expecting, the amazing and the wondrous. Roald Dahl, author of James and the Giant Peach said it better:

Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.

I believe in magic and find it often now.

I’ve started using my instinct and heart to lead versus my brain. I’m not bashing the brain; it’s outstanding at executing the plans we’ve set for ourselves. But the brain should never decide and drive what we must execute toward for our lives. That’s for our hearts to decide.

One of the wondrous things happened a year ago. I discovered The Sanctuary of Greensboro, a creativity center—or creativity incubator as I like to think of it—that embraces artists of all levels, giving them a nurturing, non-judgemental environment. The more established artists teach classes there and new classes are constantly added. I started teaching writing classes there last spring and will resume in the fall. Guess where I’m writing my novel this summer? Yep. I may be the first-ever Writer-in-Residence at The Sanctuary.

I’ve included photos of The Sanctuary including the striped chair where I spend over six hours a day writing my book. I’ve also been asked to take on the board presidency for The Sanctuary in the fall, which I’ve accepted. I’m now working with the executive director to revamp the website.

If you live in or near Greensboro, North Carolina, I invite you to drop in and say hello. The address is 1150 Revolution Mills Drive, Studio 7. You can also join us for our weekly Creativity Circle, an open group that meets every Friday morning from 10:30 to 11:30, although coffee brews at 10 and most arrive early to socialize. I’m infused with tremendous energy after this creativity circle. We discuss the sparks that ignite our creativity, as well as the wet blankets that can dampen it, if we allow them. My belief is everyone is inherently creative, but it’s often beaten out of us, by society at first, then ourselves as we shoulder the deep-rooted voices of others we mistake for our own. But how much creativity we ultimately manifest, depends on how much permission we give ourselves to do so, regardless of what anyone else thinks. This creativity group is one big permission slip.

So, I look forward to seeing you at The Sanctuary, even if it’s just the next time you are passing through the area. Just don’t expect me to dress up for you. I’ve spent too much time over the last 12 years in suits and ties. My writing attire is shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops.

I’ve never been happier.