September 7, 2009 7 Comments
My cabin in the woods, has been a writer’s sanctuary, barely 30 feet from the back door of my home. For years I savored hours of writing time away from phones, kids, pets and chores, on weekends and between work assignments.
It was supposed to be Ed’s office, things changed, it became mine by surprise. The interior transformed slowly with rugs, chairs, and pretty stuff, motivational posters, chosen crystals, and of course books, and books, and books!
Shelves and drawers are full of files and binders, showing the journey of a million (more!) words written, and, in the course of this writer’s life, workshops and classes taken, and souvenirs of conferences attended.
The energy of this special space shifted after the funerals, I stored novels-in-process to sort mountains of pictures, and began the chronicle of my childhood. My parents, in spirit, visited often, and were amused as I picked through my memories of lessons and love.
When our girls moved out last year, an almost empty room appeared, inside my home. We live in Oregon, it’s a nice cabin/office, but it’s outside, where there is rain, and only a small space heater. Many years I held the image of my writer sanctuary in my head, gaining solace the cabin was waiting, while I worked jobs and traveled, then celebrated our daughters graduations, a wedding, grandsons.
While taking screenwriting classes last winter, I brought my printer inside, so I could work at night. I liked being warm, close to the bathroom and kitchen. No running through the rain, and staying inside was more friendly after dark. 🙂 Most evenings I still sat at the kitchen table with my laptop. I felt I would shift my office into the house, permanently, but, it’s such an awesome cabin.
So, this summer, I sent a request to the universe, spirit, my angels, whomever listens. My request was, “let me know when it’s time to shift from my writing sanctuary in the woods. I’ll create a new space within my home, and settle into a schedule. I’ll become dedicated to daily hours of writing, like a professional.” My intent was, until I got an answer, that was obvious, I would continue to rest and play, and let my muse stay in hobby mode.
Lately, I’ve been seeing 9:11 a lot, and feel this is a nod from the universe that I am rewriting the right novel, shelved for a time. I’m taking it slow and easy because my personal deadline is Thanksgiving. When the roofing disaster commenced above my head I began hoping 9/11 would be the day peace returned, and then I’d begin moving my office from cabin, to house, and settling into routine.
But then, what are the odds? Our nephews best friend at college in Ohio – lives within two miles of our home in Oregon – and needs a place to practice his bass violin – while he performs with the Oregon symphony in Portland. Many synchronicities overlapped in quick succession this weekend. Look at the bare desk above. See the music stand?
I’m working in my new office. Music fills the cabin.
It is time. The universe has spoken. Clint arrived yesterday afternoon to see the cabin, I gathered my current writing project notes and storyboard and handed him a key. He came back last night and quietly walked from driveway to cabin with his music stand. He had to see it one more time, before he went to sleep, so excited he had a place to practice in peace!
I took pretty stuff from the cabin this morning and scattered them around my home. I arranged crystals on the window sill and got my WIP binders, and my laptop, off the kitchen table. Clint arrived with special chair and his precious instrument. We’re both set in our spaces to happily spend hours a day, perfecting our craft.
Now, if only the roof was done…