Last night I lit Raven Wood Prosperity and Abundance incense as I'm trying to reconnect on a more spiritual level to a world I feel a bit out of lately. When I first moved to this small town, I was "in the flow" of things. The world was a synchronistic grab bag I could draw from at anytime. Doors didn't just open, they flew open with confetti and WELCOME signs. My life felt more connected at that time than any other. I had left my corporate job, tossed my nylons and high heels off the ferry (um, metaphorically) and moved into a world of simplicity. The Circle of Simplicity was my handbook as was the Artist Way.
It's been nine years since this grand awakening for me, moving from a structured (and a little more secure path) to an open road life as a working and practicing writer. Occasionally, I lose my way and fall off into the huckleberry bushes or catch my designer jeans on some blackberries. It's always about balance, the balance of the material world with the artist world for me and I constantly have to realign and find my place in both.
So, I've started to trying to add a little more ritual to my life, hence the incense. However, about halfway through the stick of incense I had this thought-- Holy Stinking Papers, Batman, my submissions are going to smell like hippie girl. Yes, this is my reconnection with spirit, I'm worried that my entire office now reeks of "abundance." And the next editor who reads my work is going to think I'm living in a commune with my patchouli oil and not shaving my legs. Okay, s/he probably won't think that, but there is the concern about the scent.
There's been a few times when I've received a used book I've purchased only to have it smell as if it was sitting in the booksellers musty basement for years. And once, I received a chapbook that smelled so terribly of cigarette smoke, I opened the envelope and immediately took it outside. Moths and spiders were passing out from the smell. I swear, there were ashes between the pages, a coffee stain on the back.
But I guess in the spiritual ritual life, one is not to worry about the details and maybe the incense will work like pheromones and instead of annoying the editor, they will be a magical turn-on like eating chocolate and not realizing why you are so happy.
But I keep having the feeling something big is going to happen. My instincts have been on recently. Like yesterday at the Spaghetti Factory, the waiter suggested I sit down before he served our table (a couple of us had made a quick restroom stop), but I said, "No, you serve first and we'll sit down after." And a minute after saying that while still standing at a safe distance away, I watched his entire tray go tumbling all over the seats spraying the rest of our party. After they cleaned up, we safely sat down.
So, perhaps my definition of "big" is that a waiter is not going to spill his tray on me, or maybe an earthquake, or something positive like a big acceptance, or maybe it's ... I don't know, but I'm feeling something is up in the world, or the country, or the neighborhood and I can't put my finger on it, but when I do. I'll be hoping it's something wonderful--an abundance of love, peace, happiness, poems. I'll be hoping for something good.
