The strangest thing happened to me yesterday. Well, maybe it wasn’t the strangest thing, but it ranks up there on the top ten list. (Hmmm, future post? I digress.) Back to the odd confluence of signs. (Confluence popped into my head so I looked it up in an actual dictionary and it’s defined as the “flowing together of two or more streams” so, boy, does that word work. I digress again.)
Back to the confluence of strange signs. Yesterday, I attended a Meditation Workshop sponsored by the national writing organization that I belong to, SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators). The goal was to learn how to meditate to learn more about our characters, plot, scenes, and the heart of our stories. We had eight fifteen-minute meditation sessions followed by free writing. I had never done anything like it before.
The author, Laurie Calkhoven, who led the meditation sessions guided us with visualizations, some of which were bodies of water.
In one session, she guided us to think about an object, maybe one on a shelf. Guess what? In my chapter book, a luggage rack on a train is key in the climax.
In another session, while contemplating the bubbling up of ideas on a lake, I heard a train whistle and clickety clack outside. Weird. My story takes place on a train.
Get ready for goose bumps…. In several sessions, I concentrated on inviting my spirit guides, if i have spirit guides, to surround me. I asked for fortitude and courage to reach my goal, my dream, of getting my children’s book manuscripts published and start down a career path I have envisioned for myself for the eighteen years I’ve spent raising triplets plus one. I asked to be able to read the signs.
The whole subject of spirit guides may make your eyes glaze over but, hon, I am open to lots of ideas. I am willing to discuss, consider or contemplate such matters. Not quite sure if I believe but I like the idea.
Just as I finished asking my spirit guides for help, and after I heard the train and thought about the scene involving the luggage rack, the door to the building we were in blew open for a few seconds and then shut on its own. It was odd enough that the whole group turned and looked in amazement. I blurted out, “Those were my spirit guides!”
I’d like to believe it.
Are you on the “goose bumps” side of the fence, the “that’s a bunch of hogwash” side of the fence or perched on top, smack in the middle? I won’t judge either way, I promise.