My head was spinning.
I would become a writer, she said, and furthermore I would never settle down. It was in my chart. It was destiny. It was in the stars.
I was sure I had proved her wrong when I settled in the east of France for twenty two years and continued painting. I was an artist. I would stay an artist. What did I have to say to the world in words?
Every time we talked, though, for thirty years she would ask if I was writing. The answer was always the same. No. Maybe someday. Not now.
Can astrology predict your future? Can destiny be denied? Does fate exist?
All of a sudden my life in France collapsed. For five years afterwards, I stumbled from one misbegotten idea to another, two strokes, bankruptcy, homelessness, accelerated aging and general disorientation, until quite by “happenstance,” I started writing. Until then, I couldn’t seem to stop my fall.
Writing caught me, is how I think of it.
A part of my mind woke up and discovered its voice. A lid came off that particular source of intelligence and it started to speak up. At first, it woke me in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let me sleep until I stumbled out of bed and wrote it down.
That went on for over a year, until it became satisfied, this voice, that I would listen to it. It gradually became less demanding and insistent, probably because I invited it to speak to me every day, and I took its opinions seriously.
I listened. I took notes. I gave it due respect.
So, first there was the prediction, which I didn’t take very seriously. Then there was the catastrophe, which turned out to be fortuitous and necessary, then there was a kind of wandering in the desert. Then, lo and behold, Medium showed up, where my writing could find a way to the wider world.
There are all kinds of writers here. I don’t even know what kind of writer I am at this point. Writing is still new to me. I see writers here who are at a level I can only aspire to. I see niches, like tech writing, that are a mystery to me and that give me instant brain fog.
But the writing I’m doing is engaging parts of me that needed to wake up. It looks like my astrologer friend was right all along. This looks like the start of a beautiful romance.
The World threw me up in the air, but It caught me again. There’s a story there somewhere.
Thanks are due to Lynn Bell, of Paris France.
- My publication on Medium is called Anima Fire.