Sometimes life teaches us lessons in concentrated form. This weekend has been one of those concentrated lessons. We failed to heed a quiet intuition about moving a car to the bottom of our very long, steep driveway before the Monster Storm got underway. We believed the forecast of about 7″. In actuality, we got 25″.

The power went out, the phone went dead, and we had less than 48 hours to liberate a car before my scheduled cataract surgery tomorrow morning. Plenty of tension and suspense there. The good news is that the power was out for only 12 hours, the phone came back on in a couple of hours, and this afternoon as we were preparing to go back out to finish digging, an angel in the form of a neighbor appeared with his snow blower and made short work of the rest, leaving the drive looking like it had been professionally plowed.

I found a lesson in all this pertaining to The Book: I’ve been floundering, looking for an entry point. I did find one, but it sort of sealed back over. My wheels have been spinning like the car on loose snow.

Rereading Annie Dillard has provided focus and a plan. I don’t have a full-blown map, but I do have rough outlines of one. Things are coming together, and I have full faith that just as the continuing crises of the weekend resolved in a timely fashion, so will this manuscript.

One of the very few motivational speaker quotes I recall from the early 80s is from Zig Ziglar who said, “Go as far down the path as you can see. When you get there, you’ll be able to see farther.”

Write as much as you can think of. When you’re
done, you’ll think of more to write.

I’m going to make a tiny poster of those words to put in my line of vision.