owl-and-babyRemember how the other day I wrote that Dyer’s memoir I Can See Clearly Now was not inspiring to me? Well, I’ve changed my mind. He writes about how the seeds of who he is were planted when he was a little boy, but how he had no idea of that at the time. At the same time writes about how he has this knowing that I find hard to describe in my own words, but the way I interpret it is his knowing of who he really is at his core. The part that really caught my attention is on page 39:

“My writing is like having a friend with me at all times. I love my space where I escaped each day to bring my characters to life, though the story is becoming less important—it’s just the opportunity to sit in a sacred space with a blank piece of paper staring back at me that I so enjoy. When I take the time to write on my novel, I think to myself, Writing is not something that I do. It is what I am. I like the feel of it and saying and remembering, I am writing. What brings me the greatest sense of accomplishment is feeling aligned with what I am on the planet for in the first place. That’s what writing is to me.”

I get this. I really, really get this.

The way he talks about this knowing, the way I understand it, is that it’s a deep knowing, more than a knowing in your bones. It’s a knowing in your essence, at your core, in your center, in your soul. It’s something you know from early childhood. I can’t name it or describe it in any other words. It’s not a knowing in the sense of knowing what will happen or how it will play out, or what it will even be, just that it will, somehow. Just that there is something there, something big, something powerful, something meaningful. A connection to God.

Today would have been my mother’s 67th birthday, and she passed just two months ago. During this time of loss, it’s important to remember and feel that connection to God. Rest in peace, Mom.

Mom loved owls, so I’ll end with this beautiful painting of an owl:



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