The Tap on the Shoulder Thing

Yesterday I fulfilled a life-long dream – to publish a book. Although I don’t know if self-publishing really qualifies as “being published,” as anyone can do it. It doesn’t mean that you’re good or anything; it just means you know how to connect the dots in the online software and declare yourself a published author.

Still, there is a sense of accomplishment and I am just beside myself waiting to hold that little book, that little piece of me in my hands. I even splurged for two day shipping – which is something for me, ‘cause I’m pretty cheap when it comes to things like that. And I never imagined the book would be a story told thru the “eyes” of flowers. In fact, there was no story at all until I started putting the flowers on the pages and realized that because of the titles I had chosen for the flowers over the years, a story was evolving. I typically assign a title to an image on a whim ~ whatever emotion the image is evoking from me that particular day ~~ what it is saying to me. Or more likely, a reflection of the mood I’m in that particular day. And what’s really weird is that when I started stringing these floral images together and seeing a story evolve I saw a little of myself in the story. In fact when I did my last review before hitting that “publish now” button, I actually got a little choked up and realized this is kind of autobiographical.

And I guess that makes sense. I mean, I took the photographs ~ my eye was attracted to a flower on a certain day, in a certain way and I liked it enough to snap. The title I gave it reflected some emotion I was feeling at the time. So I guess when I string them together it’s not unusual that the story would be mine as well.

I’ve already started my second and third books. Yup, now that it’s possible to actually do this, all the stored up stories and images in this 53 year old head are pushing and shoving and scrambling their way to the front of the line to be next. The possibilities make me dizzy. And in what has otherwise been one rough and complicated week the hope of things to come is the reason I’ve gotten out of bed every morning. That which does not kill us makes us stronger.

Which reminds me and on an unrelated note - feeling angry and frustrated and confused the other day, I hit the park for a hike. At one point I sat on a lonely pier and looked to the blue, blue sky and whispered, “I need a sign. I need to know you’re here.” Almost instantaneously and out of nowhere, a flock of white gulls appeared in the eastern sky, miles up, slowly flying in circles and slowly making their way toward me. They stopped and circled over my head for a minute, then disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.


I burst into tears. Whoever is out there looking out for me wanted me to know I’m not alone.

I found great comfort in that. Not to mention awe.

Amazing grace.