life as a scavenger hunt

I believe in a higher power, and I typically call it “God.”  I am quite amenable to anyone calling him/it/her by whatever name or title he or she chooses, and I am supportive and compassionate to those who have decided to not believe in such an entity, as well.  but I write this today from inside my own belief system, in which a higher power has created a (benevolent) universe in which we are subtly guided and supported along our journeys, especially when we’re headed in the “right” way.

clarity, you ask?  and, what does this have to do with what I’m reading?  simply this:  if one pays attention, one is gifted with the recognition of myriad little clues, guides, synchronicities along the way toward achieving one’s goals.  paying attention is key, being aware.  some of these will jump out at you, but some will rest, casually, along the edge of the road, where you may or may not ever see them.  you must learn to be aware of what’s around you, you must learn to look.  and allow yourself to listen to and be guided by your impulses.

still didn’t help?  okay, here’s the connection.  I was in the library last week, looking for a dvd I’d been told of.  on the way out I perused the “new in fiction” section, instantly discounting most by title or cover, until a small, hardbound book with an unusual sketch on the cover caught my eye.  ways of going home.  hmm, interesting title, let’s see what it says on the inside flap.  Alejandro Zambra’s Ways of Going Home begins with an earthquake, seen through the eyes of an unnamed nine-year-old boy who lives in an undistinguished middle-class housing development in a suburb of Santiago, Chile . . .  okay, good enough, I’ll check it out.  

the dvd I’d gone to the library for is about wolves:  I’m researching wolves in preparation for a project I’ve committed to working on.  I’ve been reading scholarly and scientific and romantic and lightweight articles, books and treatises on wolves, and my head is literally swimming in wolf facts and lore.  I need fiction breaks, and this small book set in chile sounded perfect.  a few days after bringing it home I opened it, flipping through the first few pages–title page, copyright info, dedication, also by–and then reached a fore-page with two quotes on it, the second of which was this:

instead of howling, I write books.    ~r. gary

now, if you don’t make the connection, then you probably won’t need to read any more of my posts or writings, ever.  if you do, you might possibly understand the little tickle that ran through my system.  of all the books I could have possibly picked up at the library that morning–how many thousands and thousands do they stock–I was somehow guided to choose Zambra’s book with Romain Gary’s quote.  which I love.  because I believe he exquisitely captures my need to write:  because I’m unable to (for societal and cultural and evolutionary reasons) howl to express myself, I must write.  and apparently the universe is reinforcing my decision to write about wolves.

one could say the two things have nothing to do with each other; one could throw “random” and “coincidence” at my story.  and I will let one.  but I know the truth, my truth.  which is that the universe is willingly supporting my journey, and will continue to gift me with small synchronicities and occurrences that–if I’m paying attention–will perform like tiny lights along my way, guiding and reinforcing, helping me find my own unique way to howl.