Could it really be?

Looking back six months ago seems like yesterday, and at the same time a lifetime ago when Jordan and I began working on Wildheart. Now that the magazine is published people ask how we did it and when we found the time, I scarcely have an answer. What I know is that we did what we could, with what we had, in the time that was available to us, but there might have been more.

Around the same time the magazine idea was brewing, my word of the year came up. One word to live by, to remember, to adhere to for a whole year. I do not remember how I happened upon this custom, but for three consecutive years now I’ve been given a word to which I devote thought, prayer, and most importantly application. This year the word is believe.

I think if we are attuned enough to listen, clues are all around us when it comes to making decisions. A good example of this is when I decided it was time to build a new fence for our house. All of the sudden I paid attention to all the fences I came across, the stain, the shape, the design. The fences in my neighborhood that I had overlooked in the last eight years jumped out at me, as if for the first time. This is how the word works, once it’s given to me, the opportunities to put it in practice become visible, asking to be acknowledged, sometimes as a whisper, sometime as nothing short of an assault.

So it was the day the magazine talk materialized, as soon as the phrase “could we really do this?” left my lips, a giant neon sign (visible only to me) appeared in bold letters           
B E L I E V E, right above my head, flickering the same way an OPEN sign flickers on a storefront.

I know what you’re thinking. “So, you mean to tell me that somehow you were handed a word by some supernatural/juju/crunchy/granola being, and that you stick to that word for one whole year, following signs only you can see?” Yes, reader. That is exactly what I am saying. You can call it the universe, enlightenment, spirit, or whatever you want. I call it God, and I am positive he has bestowed upon me (and you) gifts that he wants to see manifest, small treasures hidden inside each of us that when uncovered not only do they shed light, joy, and goodness within us, but we actually become vessels for light, joy, and goodness in others. So when the sign came on I believed, and Jordan did too, because the thing about these gifts is that they are contagious, they multiply in the same way the common cold virus does, and as far as viruses go, two hosts are better than one.

I spent the last few days away in a cabin, focusing solely on soaking up as much vitamin D as my skin allowed, and taking pictures of every flower I came across. Our summers are gone fast and sometimes all I have to remember them by is a new age spot the sun earned me, and the pictures of the arctic poppies that bloom where inevitably the snow will land. Right there, immersed in my thoughts about the perfection of irises, budding fireweed, and how quickly they will change, I had a thought, an idea, “could it really be?” I asked myself. Then the whisper, believe.


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