I also liked “Miraculous Procrastination” as an alternate title for this blog, as you will soon discover at the end of this long missive. Procrastinator is not an adjective one would use in describing me. I get in there and get things done. Sitting down to indulge in a movie is always more relaxing knowing I have truly finished all my tasks. I have quite a few projects running besides my full time job of being a Hairstylist, that I have had to learn the art of when to take those movie breaks or cultivate relationships instead of taking every spare moment to work on things. I have had to be okay with “enjoy the journey” as the well known phrase goes of unfinished business.
I cannot place editing my book in the category of being responsible with my precious time. I simply was not making time for it. In fact, the thought of revisiting the written pages to revise them felt incredibly taxing. I practically took the entire previous summer to write the original draft. Whether camping with my roommate and her family or hanging out with my son, my laptop was near. I was living and breathing the experience of my story and I could not stop. The words flowed. As all authors can attest, when they are flowing, one must write. I pride myself in being a self-editor during the writing process. When I handed over the manuscript last September to a trusted friend to officially begin the editing task, I was confident she would breeze through it with little to correct. In December, she had muscled through half of it and handed it back to me. I call her Wise because their is a quiet knowing about her. She knew this would be monumental for me to finish. Oblivious to her wisdom, I excitedly grasped my lexical diary back in my hands, anticipating quick correction.
Wrong. There was a lot more there for me to correct than I would like to admit. Sure, I am a natural at writing and she did applaud my self-editing skills, but this was going to take some time and concentration. When I finish something, I am done. I had that experience, I am ready for the next thing. Now I had to step back into the story, fully, and make it even better. I would be reliving those events a third time. I have grown leaps and bounds even since last summer, to return to the older me would be emotionally draining. The folder containing my manuscript has been my constant companion since December. It travels to and from work in my satchel everyday in case I have a few moments to delve into its contents. It has remained untouched and it is now June. I assure you, I have been busy, but I have had many moments where I indulged in another movie rather than grab the folder. In my head I thought about committing to a few pages a day. The thought remained there, in my head……..until this past weekend.
Hobbit House has been whispering to me on the winds from Sedona for a few months now. “Come to me. You need me. Leave the city with its busyness and refresh yourself with the rush of my creek waters and wondrous monolithic red cliffs.” I had partaken of its majesty a few weeks prior with the man I am dating. We had the most beautiful day trip to Sedona, visiting a few of its art galleries, dining in our favorite healthy restaurant, and unveiling our inner selves to each other under a canopy of trees alongside the creek. Although delightfully pleasing and peaceful, Spirit knew I needed to come back to Hobbit House for one very big specific reason, to initiate work on my book. When I envisioned editing my book, I always saw me in Hobbit House. Subconsciously, I knew she would provide the catalyst I required to inspire passion for my story again.
I resisted the lone calling. I invited Peaceful to come join me. “We had such an amazing time here, lets create even more memories,” I thought. Tragedy struck his pool, creating a dark murky mess he could not ignore, he was out. I begged my son to join me. “I don’t feel like it Mom.” Okay, fine, I will go alone! My heart smiled unbeknownst to me.
I pulled around the corner with Hobbit House in view and tears instantly wet my eyes. I love it here. “This is my favorite place known to me on the planet,” I thought. Unloading my belongings, the creek sounds welcomed me as the patio door was left open to greet me. I lay on the bed, staring out at the blue sky peering through the leaves. My manuscript glared at me as I picked up my iPad to begin reading a book on my wish list about Chinese medicine. I had been experiencing some strange physical manifestations that were not coming from any health related issues. They were messages for me to attend to some internal conflict grappling with my existence and this new book may offer some insight.
I could not get into it. I took a nap, woke up, and stared outside some more. I decided to sit outside on the cushy lawn chair and have a much needed conversation, “Spirit, what’s up? What’s going on with me?” “Edit your book, you will find your cure” was the reply. Fine! I picked myself up, gathered my laptop, and clicked on the monstrous file.
The name of my book happens to be “Rejection, tales from a recovered Man Addict.” The men I dated were a great looking glass into how I felt about me. I allowed each heart break to bring me closer to who I am. A difficult often hilarious journey, but I allowed it to step me into the confident glorious being Spirit intended me to be. Presently, I happen to be dating a mature man. His maturity spans all levels, mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical. Where is the ego he is trying to protect? Not there. Where are the hurts he is trying to stuff? Not there either. He is light and free. He does not need me and I do not need him to help us feel better about ourselves, that is already there. We desire a relationship, someone to share our lives with and we are spending time together to see if we are a fit. Editing my book at this time feels perfect. It feels like a victory in my dating life history. To be more honest, it represents a victory in the person I have decided to embrace and be. I was not ready for such a man until now. As I sat on the deck of Hobbit House rereading the words to my story, the importance and reward of my journey flooded my being simultaneously with joy, gratitude, excitement, and inspiration. These feelings took over my typing fingers. The ease at which they tapped on the letters astounded even me.
The Grand Finale of Miracles
“This is a blast. I think I am going to finish this thing this weekend! It feels like when I wrote it, I don’t want to stop.” Adding paragraphs, enhancing the language, correcting grammatical errors flowed effortlessly like the stream of water at my feet. The following sentence typed onto my screen: “I am not lamenting the lack of consummation of my fallacious fairytale with him.” The significance is that I do not know the word “fallacious.” When I write, words arrive and I write them. First, I looked it up to see if it existed. It did. Then I checked the definition, was it appropriately used? It was. It was? It was!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is the cherry on top of this story. It is beautiful confirmation of my life. Confirmation of divine guidance leading, protecting, and blessing my socks off!
Wasting time is not necessarily a waste of time. Miraculous procrastination may be lurking in the shadows.
Release to Unleash!
Have you ever been divinely led to procrastinate?
Have you experienced the miracle of timing?