This ragged piece of cardboard will be a reminder as long as I live of a time of confounding, big magic.
Imprinted on a single piece of paper, it showed up in my life, unbidden. Along with pages of text I was printing, the sheet shot out of a printer not long after a collective called Spirit delivered a message for me through my daughter, Liv*. According to these guides, I was to write a book, enriched by their input. In a very real sense, they would be my collaborators. They urged me to begin at once, during a month-long stay—January of 2016—in the Florida home of my friend Priscilla who was out of the country.
I had just begun to create a website as well as a blog. I intended to focus on the writing life and on children’s literature. But the guidance I received suggested a far different focus: You will tell parts of your story in posts. And it will eventually form a cohesive whole. May people smile and laugh with you at the magic. May they open to a reality beyond fable. And knowing this introvert well, they reassured me. It is good that the story comes out of you, too long in hiding.
At the same time that I embarked on book and blog, I was to get rid of a box I’d been hauling around with me for far too long. Over the years, I’d filled that metaphorical box to the brim with anything and everything to do with writing for publication. Along with all the “stuff” I’d produced, I was to leave behind the conventional wisdom and standard practices I’d followed, the emotional highs and lows I’d experienced, even the motive to publish. They encouraged me to get rid of the virtual cardboard box at the Sarasota airport before heading home. Exactly how I was to do this mystified me.
As if to reinforce the validity and value of their guidance, the astonishing print image of the cardboard flap appeared only days later. This event, coupled with my own intuition, persuaded me to follow their lead. At the airport, minutes from takeoff, I scribbled a statement of intention beside the emblematic box, snapped a picture, tore the image of that “box” to shreds, tossed the scraps into the trash, and marched onto the plane. Recently, I came across the photo in a stack of random papers. Here was a symbol of the promise of divine guidance, not to mention our continuing collaboration.
I look back in wonder at the divine timing—of my dad stepping through the veil many years ago with the cryptic message to do something “outside the box;” also hinting that I would require a kind of sabbatical for it to begin. There were specific channeled communications I had with Peter—my partner of over four decades who crossed over in 2011—on the subject of his work continuing on the Other Side. One time he mentioned a book he was working on. This prompted my question about who would be reading it. He responded matter-of-factly that it was intended for human beings on Earth—its content somehow transferred to someone here to write and publish, I suspect.
More recently, he enthusiastically described a spreadsheet in front of him and a marvelous collaboration related to it between him and other souls. Another time, when I’d been fretting about ever finishing my manuscript, Pete joked that if he, in his current nonphysical state, could be supremely confident that his work would reach others on Earth, how could I not doubt that mine would also ultimately serve those it’s meant to reach.The guides I met in 2016, who came through Liv, weigh in now in monthly sessions. And when progress lags or words fail me, they patiently and repeatedly remind me to chill, that “the book is already written.” Already written, people. Their reassurance invariably comforts me and blows my fricking mind.
I read Liz Gilbert’s “Big Magic” when it came out in September of 2015 and, in retrospect, I see it as another cosmic
nudge, preparing me for the meeting with Spirit a few months later. In it, the author makes a claim she calls “outlandish.” It’s that ideas are entities. She writes: “When an idea thinks it has found somebody—say, you—who might be able to bring it into the world, the idea will pay you a visit. It will try to get your attention.”
Gilbert acknowledges that it may seem delusional to place trust in a force one can’t see, touch, or prove, allowing that it may not even exist. But she makes the choice to trust that “it is always nearby—the whole time I’m working, trying its damnedest to impart assistance.” This includes sending messages “in every form it can, through dreams, through portents, through clues, through coincidences, through déjà vu, through kismet, through surprising waves of attraction and reaction, through chills that run up my arms, through the hair that stands up on the back of my neck, through stubborn ideas that keep me awake all night long… whatever works.”
Reminding the reader of the human dramas and other distractions on Earth that keep us from noticing its presence, she suggests that “when it finally realizes that you’re oblivious to its message, it will move on to someone else.” The idea needs to be made manifest.
She gives a jaw-dropping account of having abandoned a work-in-progress due to one of those all-absorbing personal dramas. Her neglected work ends up mysteriously transferring to author and friend, Ann Patchett. This, despite the fact that neither writer had any knowledge of what the other was working on. What began as one author’s fictional story became another’s. It moved on, almost intact, from one human to another. Or as she puts it, “soul to soul.”
Given Peter’s messages about his and other nonphysical souls’ ongoing work meant to inspire creators on Earth, the term “soul to soul” understandably holds a second meaning for me. It’s also surely outlandish to some. But in the midst of actively and regularly collaborating with light-beings who are shepherding me in my work, I feel my trust is warranted.
As Gilbert points out, such divine mystery and collaboration can make the creative work we do into an act of prayer.
Manifesto above is by Elizabeth Gilbert. This post—”Big Magic”—originally appeared in April of 2018, deleted soon after and restored in September of 2018 as a companion piece to the post that follows.
*If you’re a newcomer to “Tuned In,” you’ll find more details of how the collaboration with Spirit began in my first posts, by clicking here and here and here.
Loved ones are not the only form of consciousness beyond the Earth plane, to be sure. Prophets, sages, and shamans have channeled inspirational info from otherworldly sources through the ages—with messages from loving guides at a higher level of vibration and intelligence. Though the initial messages about my writing came from three different psychics/sources, the ongoing monthly guidance comes through my daughter, Liv Lane, who uses her spiritual gifts to benefit many. (LivLane.com)
