And the Heavens Opened

Bozeman, Montana, May 2008

Last night I inadvertently left my sun roof open. Thank goodness when I got into my car this morning that it hadn't rained and that the temperature had lowered and prevented a fine dusting of pollen to fill my Golda with its springtime wealth.

I like to believe that I was tapping into my conduit to heaven through my sun roof. That and the wind rippling through my hair and the bright spring sun are what motivate me to open up Golda in this pollen-infested world.

Just last week, for instance, I was in a tight spot with my dissertation. My adviser was convinced that my structure was all wrong and that my previously-written chapters were off and shouldn't be included. She was partly right. The biggest problem, though, was that I didn't have a tight focus. I couldn't figure out the core value of all my little strands. I'd felt blocked the past few months as I tried to hammer out a dissertation that didn't really stand on its own.

So I struggled through it that weekend. I went to all my usual sources of inspiration (including the fabulous Kenwood neighborhood in Chevy Chase for some non-touristy cherry blossom stimulation). I read an article by my dear mentors from a previous life at BYU, Jill & Carol. They seemed to have hit one of my ideas right on, and while I was delighted in their work, I was also a bit disappointed because it's now not mine to make.

And then it hit me. It came. The heavens opened and all of a sudden all these little pieces from my past years of research and papers and exhibits instantly fell into place. CLICK. I figured it out. I saw so clearly, in that beam of sunlight on my back patio last Wednesday, the day before I met with my adviser to restructure my dissertation, and my conduit popped. I welcome those brief moments of clarity. This morning at the gym as I labored on the bike (breathing heavily through my allergy-infested lungs), I had another moment, explaining another part of my life. These are the moments, these bits of light, these conduits, that I cling to and that provide direction for the next little bit. Oh thank goodness!