The seasons turned into years. Where have I been? What was I doing? And why have I neglected this blog?
I was writing a book, and writing the book demanded all of my attention. It’s been a labor of love and I’m delighted to report that I finally finished the manuscript. I’m savoring a quiet summer day and wanted to share my happy news before beginning the daunting process of finding its agent and / or publisher.
When I sat down to write this book, I thought about the people who yearn for something more. People who might have explored spiritual practices, such as meditation and yoga, but continue searching for that missing something. I used to be one of those people … until I forged my path to the sacred by engaging with nature.
Today, as I left my apartment to go outside for a walk, I stopped to admire owl sculptures that sit on top of a cabinet positioned in an alcove beside our door. My mother made those owls. She loved working with clay, and created owls perched on driftwood, large standing owls, and owl plaques that hang on walls. Her varied stoneware creations often included natural elements, but she was particularly fascinated with owls.
Among other things, my book suggests that following our fascinations can lead to spiritual practices that work for us. I wish I’d asked about Mother’s owl fascination while she was alive.