Last night I had a two-hour telephone conversation with a friend I hadn’t talked to in a long time. It was wonderful to connect and I was thrilled to hear she is finding lessons in a stream of losses she has experienced. That is what I strive to do, to be. It reminded me of the importance of right association in our lives, the feeling of sharing with like-minded others.

It was this friend who introduced me to The Artist’s Way; last night we picked up where we left off without skipping a beat. I don’t think those two facts are unrelated. When I told her of my triumphs and my hardships of late, she was insightful about both. When I mentioned the annoying and ugly sty on my eye, she marveled at how literal the universe can be — what are you not seeing, Nancy? Knock me over with a feather, why don’t you.

That brings me to this morning. The cold is lingering. The sty is still there. I just finished meditating about everything. When all else was quiet, one persistent voice kept saying the same thing — Write your damn book. Not in your leisurely, la-la pace. Like you mean it. Like it means something to you. Like you have something to say. Like you can’t wait to spit it all out. What are you waiting for???????

Duh.