So, yesterday I was preparing for my writers’ retreat. Running errands, taking care of business.
And then my car started making a terrible noise. It sounded something like Harvey Firestein. With a head cold.
Long story short, it’s in the shop and being repaired.
Last night after I had dropped off the car, I told W that there was a part of me that wanted to back out of the retreat. Cut my losses on the deposit. Stay home for the weekend.
“I’m having car problems,” I would say. “There’s no way I can make it.”
But I knew this whole car thing was God’s way of getting my attention.
“If you want something, you need to work for it,” I imagined him saying. “How bad do you want to be a writer?”
Strangely, this voice also sounded like Harvey Firestein.
So, come hell or high water or car problems, I’m off this afternoon. I have my notebooks packed, along with my statement of intention:
I accept this gift of time to write, reflect and be in the company of other writers. I open myself to possibility.
* * *
What does your voice of the universe sound like?