A Flash of Clarity

Many moons ago, we enclosed our back porch to expand our living space. I wanted to wire the light fixture up with a three way switch so we could turn the lights on and off coming into the room from outside or coming into the room from the dining room.

I’m actually intimidated by electricity, and not at all inclined to mess with it, but I really wanted to do it myself.

I peppered the electricians at work with questions to the point of being a nuisance. With their help, I sketched out a very simple drawing (not at all like the complicated mess in the picture above!) and kept asking them to explain it to me-how it all worked.

The day before I was to work my magic, I called my dad for some reassurance: to make sure I understood what I had drawn and to assure myself that I wasn’t going to blow the house up.

Somewhere between the talk with my dad and the actual wiring of the switches, my brain had been working overtime trying to make it all make sense.

The day of the actual wiring, I studied the drawing and had a flash of clarity. It somehow made perfect sense to me.

I did my work and I turned the breaker back on and flipped the switch.

And there was light!

I had one of those moments of clarity at my mother’s bedside when she was about to have surgery after a significant fall. (Read about it here.)

I had a moment of clarity about the possibilities of the universe when my friend George passed away. (Read about it here.)

I had one of those moments last night.

I was thinking about my writing career and if I might be wasting my time.

I was thinking of how much I enjoy sharing my experiences and about what we each take away from the exchange.

While in this state of mind, I came across a picture that a friend took and posted on Facebook.

I studied that picture and it put me on another train of thought completely. My first thought was about worn gloves and weathered hands. That’s what the picture brought to mind.

After a lot more thought, the weathered hands became a farmer’s hands and my thoughts morphed into the hard work it takes to work the land, the faith you’d have to have to do it year after year not knowing how it would all turn out-Mother Nature being unpredictable and all.

Then those two trains of thought collided. At that moment I could see it all so clearly. This writing thing, this exchange of ideas and heart and soul, it’s about faith and hope and hard work.

When I share my heart, my version of planting seeds, there are no guarantees. There’s only faith and hope and a love of the work that compels me to keep going.

In those seeds lie the potential for growth and expansion and an opening to the universal, an idea taking hold and blossoming. Maybe not today and maybe not even tomorrow.

I generally don’t get to see the harvest, what that seed becomes, but I feel the need to plant it anyway

In this moment of clarity, I realize that all I have to do is focus on the work at hand. The rest will take care of itself.

~~~

Next Week: The picture that captivated me!