Sometimes life just keeps sending us signs. I wish on occasion that it would be specific directions(!), but signs are good. Yes, very good.
This year I reconnected with two former, extremely talented, graduate writing students of mine, C & T, who, with all of us out of the university setting, have become friends and peers. Over lots of email conversation, I ended up sharing my manuscript Night Times with them, the memoir of the years I ran the alternative rock zine as a single mom. I know I have talked about this book before: it’s gone through many iterations and had three different contracts on it that fell through. I wanted to polish it up again because I may have another opportunity with it ahead.
An old cover I made for the Night Times book proposal years ago
C & T blazed through the manuscript and offered some fantastic comments which I am ashamed to say that I sat on for about six months, due to being involved with other writing projects, lots of tarot work, and, well, being beaten up by the publishing system in general. But about a week and a half ago I dove into it again and was delighted by their insightful remarks. I got right back to this book with real excitement and feel it is just about ready to return to face the world. Again.
What about the signs? That’s the funny part. Almost right away, I presume because my mind was on these people working on them in the day, I began dreaming about the Night Times characters–all of my beloved staff members who lived and worked with me as surrogate family and friends with a shared dream in this communal house during the 1990s. And then J contacted me, my old NT office manager who I hadn’t heard from in about 20 years. And then M called me, one of my old right-hand men, who I saw briefly a few years ago at a Christmas party, but hadn’t hung out with in forever. He said, “Hey, I have an extra ticket to see the St. Louis Symphony do Prince’s music. Do you wanna go?” We had a great time. And that same weekend, I laughed to Tom, walking away from the mailbox with a random piece of junk mail addressed to Night Times Magazine. In it was one of those promotional pens–nearly thirty years after we closed our doors! How funny is that? We will see if something happens with that book yet.
In other news, yet another victim of Australian healer Simon Hay and his sexual misconduct contacted me last night through this blog. It never stops. I realize that I cannot prevent others from being hurt by him if they don’t find my posts here. At least I am told by these other women how helpful it is to be heard and to let go of their individual shame. In every case, the woman thought she had misinterpreted or that she just didn’t understand spirituality. Because none of these women were actually raped, they were unsure if this was what “healing” was supposed to encompass. They just knew they were very uncomfortable, and that there was no damn healing happening. We must heed those first warnings we feel: doubt, mistrust, wondering, ‘why is he saying that?’ ‘that comment feels creepy and suggestive,’ ‘why is he touching me there, like that, for so long?’ and ‘when is he going to get to my real issues?’… these are signs we must pay attention to, and act upon with outrage and refusal to allow it in the future.
One Response
…in the age of Never Mind! Aces!!
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