This evening was the first of three writing workshops I’m teaching called, Writing: Luxury or Necessity? I found a great little space in Hoboken to do them. An intimate space that will fit maybe six, but ideally four, participants. I had four people signed up and was psyched.

That’s the backstory for what follows here. The first exercise in the workshop is to write stream of consciousness for 10 minutes. Here’s what came off my pen:

OK. Why the hell are there three registered people missing from my workshop? What is up with that? Carol is here and I’m going with it. Simple. Zen, baby.

I vowed that this would be perfect no matter what happened as far as numbers, content, timing. I just knew, had confidence that it would be exactly what The Universe wanted it to be. Simple to let it go and let it be. Well, not at first. But there is peace about that attitude.

The space is helpful, too. This ZenTouch studio is cream and minimalist, like a clean palate. The walls, the cover on the futon, the Japanese lanterns. They make room for expression.

Carol is here. She’s expressing. I am here. I’m expressing. I am writing and talking about writing and this is what makes me happy. It’s so joyful.

Why am I missing three people? In the grand scheme of things, in the belief system where I believe there is a reason, I’d be grasping at straws at this point. A lesson in getting more rigorous in registering participants? A bunch of seemingly unrelated crossed signals that were meant to give Carol some one-on-one nurturing? If the latter is true, how can I not believe this is the perfect outcome? I am out to, as my life coaching tagline says, connect people to their creative core. She will be connected to hers more deeply by the time we leave this cream-colored room. That is my solemn vow.

Terrific. My anxiety has subsided and I am floating a bit. I am a coach and a writer and sometimes they merge and form what I can only describe as my best, most “on” self. I was born to do this.

I was born to do this.