Co-Creating with the Divine

I decided to write a book in the Fall of 2012. My life was at a crossroads. My husband’s business was growing. We had three children with their own activities and pursuits.

Our life felt overwhelming. Wanting to make our lives easier… less complex, I chose to leave the classroom and focus on our family and the inside office duties of my husband’s business.

I lost myself in football practice and gymnastics, grocery lists and lunch boxes, car rider lines, and the business’ spreadsheets and financial statements.

I ached to gain back the part of myself I lost.

A good friend encouraged me to pray for guidance and direction, which came to me in a Forest Gump moment. I kid you not. I was out for my morning jog, pondering life, wondering where I could find meaning – and still balance my family’s dreams and desires.

That is when I had this fleeting and random thought: I’ll write a book. Which is also when this white, downy feather floated down from the sky, right in front of me. It was one of those surreal … slow-motion … cinematic moments you just watch unfold.

I took this thought and that feather as my sign – the divine guidance that I had prayed for. Mind you, I never had a desire to write a book previously. Of course, this meant that this idea wasn’t mine.

My husband lovingly reminded me there is a chicken house right down the road, and the chicken trucks had been “running the roads” that week. The same roads I was running.

Still, I persisted, because this felt new, exciting—right.

I told my friend, the one who told me to pray, about this experience and decision, and I even shared a piece of my writing with her. She loved it! She said she my passage was enticing. She wanted to read more. Her encouragement and repeated asking for more pages helped me complete the first draft of my manuscript within a year.

But. It was horrible. Really, it was, or so I learned after a paid critique—a harsh critique that left me under the covers in the fetal position, proclaiming, “I’m not meant to be a writer.”

Writing a novel is a huge undertaking. On average, a novel is 80,000 words. That is 250-350 pages of plot, character development, narrative drive, story development and story structure – and that’s just big picture stuff.

There is also line-level writing comprised of concise, intentional word choices that need to hook the reader again and again and again. Then there are also other issues, like wrangling the imposter complex that loves to tap you on the shoulder and ask: “Who are you to write this book – any book? Who cares what you have to say? Can you even say whatever it is you’re trying to say?”

Obviously not!

What am I trying to say?

Why is it taking so long for me to say it?

Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

There are already millions of books available for consumption. Why does the world need another book – my book?

I started this story 14 years ago because a feather fell out of the sky and I took that as a sign from the divine.

Could this feather have been from the divine, pointing me to a special journey? Or could my husband have been right that I was taking divine guidance from a feather that escaped from a chicken truck with a load of chickens on the way to their fate?

Maybe both can be true.

After working on the book for so many years, there are many days when I ask the divine if a published novel really is part of the plan or just my plan.

Aligning with the divine.

I usually find my guiding word for the year by the fall of the previous year, but this year I’ve had trouble choosing a word. As of writing this post, April is coming to a close and the calendar is heading into May, and I’m just now proclaiming my word. It’s really two words: divine flow.

Flow was my word last year. Choosing flow as my word was evolutionary. So much so that I’ve continued to look for flow this year, and while I strive to carry the lessons from each word I choose forward to the following years, I finally convinced myself I wasn’t finished with flow.

Or maybe flow wasn’t finished with me.

A major component of flow is letting go and trusting the process.

I still struggle with letting go and trusting the process. I wrote about this resistance previously (here). And since my life still has many of the same circumstances and struggles, and I have the same goal of finishing and traditionally publishing this book, I’m adding a new tool to my toolbox this year – a practice of intentionally aligning with the divine.

Divine Flow

Divine flow is achieved when I am intentionally aligned with the Divine.

Intentional alignment with the divine comes from showing up spiritually through prayer and meditation.

Intentional alignment with the divine looks like remaining open and available to signs and nudges, like those that have brought me this far.

Intentional alignment with the divine means trusting my intuition and that still small voice inside of me that honors the road map to my purpose found within the scared space of my heart.

Intentional alignment does not assure me I will become a traditionally published author, but that for today I am on the right path. That feather that floated down out of the sky all those years ago has led me on a beautiful journey of experiences, people, and growth. I’m open, available, and intentionally showing up for more of that.

Journal on it – reflective prompts