• The Writer’s Journey Begins

    Thank you for being a part of The Writer’s Journey and joining me here on the page.

    If you wish to do a quick scan of this page and read only the parts in bold, you may. Or if you wish to settle in for a story, I encourage you to grab a cup of tea and give yourself a little time to just enjoy this writer’s tale!


    The Writer’s Journey

    I had such high hopes for the week. I knew I had Sunday and Monday completely free to really delve into…well, something. I still wasn’t sure what this book was to be about. All I had was an image and overwhelming need at various times in my life to travel to small towns and hear people’s stories.

    One thing I’ve learned about my own intuition, it’s metaphorical. The Universe will send me the picture and feelings, but I’m left to decipher it on my own, like trying to figure out the spices in a certain dish you like without the recipe nearby.

    To backtrack, there I was, caught in yet another depression in August of 2016. (And I must say, it really makes me want to throw a frying pan at anyone who wishes to tell me the depression I’m experiencing is because I’m afraid of moving forward. First, if there’s one thing I’ve struggled with in my life, it’s taking less action, not more. And secondly, even if that were true, how helpful is it to tell another person, “Well, the reason you’re feeling so utterly joyless and low is because you’re too afraid to take action.” As if that little bit of knowledge somehow miraculously gives us the courage to say, “You’re right! Now I am brave enough to move forward!” Um, no.

    We can only move as fast as we feel safe enough to move. Even if that safety eventually comes in the way of trust and faith in an unlimited Source of power I call God, or because staying where we are no longer feels safe, but painful. Either way, it’s the hope and safety in another choice that enables us to act, even with fear. Enough said, thank you for indulging me.)

    Again, to backtrack, there I was in another depression back in August, and once again, the idea of being free enough to wander, to connect with strangers deeply, and to hear their stories of courage and faith blossomed into such love and joy inside of me, it made me cry.

    “This is it,” I told God. “You’ve given me this image, this desire, several times, over and over in my life. I don’t want to go through another depression just to get it again. I’m ready to do something about it. But what do you want me to do?!” And so, the baby steps began with interviewing some healing friends, extrapolating stages of my own transformations, and hoping something would come together – eventually.

    Which brings us to my high hopes for Sunday and Monday. But alas, I did not count on meeting a man Thursday. Nor did I count on him rocking my world. Ah, the Universe is a funny thing. It knows we are willing. It knows we have laid out our goals, so we can be intentional and show our willingness. And then it says, “Yeah, well, there’s something else I need from you before we go there. Step aside please, you’re about to get blindsided.”

    And that’s pretty much what happened. He was the funny, interesting, adventurous man who traveled the world, without a home base to speak of. It had been a while since I’d felt like I could connect with a man this way who shared my sense of humor. (And it didn’t help any that he was cute and spoke with an accent. Blast it all!) Suffice to say, we hit it off. He invited me over to his place, to continue the conversation as the bar was closing. I told him it was late. I needed to get home, but perhaps we can meet again sometime. He kissed me goodnight (yeah, that was pretty good, too). I drove home thrilled, shaking my head at the serendipity of it all.

    What I have learned, however, is to never judge a situation or throw your predictions at it for they will never stick where you want them. The Divine Plan wants to heal us so we can become more of who we are, better able to stand strong in the world with our own power and gifts. And quite often that means facing the places in ourselves we still close off from love.

    I didn’t hear from him the next day, or the next. In fact, I never heard from him again. This struck a chord of unworthiness in me I did not realize was still there after all this time. It took three days of crying, feeling feelings, and time with my amazing healer friend, Christina, to finally get to the point I could say, “Hey, maybe it’s not me.” Something shifted. Something changed. Something in me grew up.

    So now here I am, today, writing to you. I hope to discover if this book is about tracking the healers’ journeys and its stages, courageous stories of hope from people in general, or something else. Still can’t name the spice.

    Though I’m curious, what would you, amazing people of heart, want or need to hear about? Really, that might offer me more clues…or I might just say, “Nah, wrong spice.”J


    “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

                                                                                  Ralph Waldo Emerson

    Happy Trails,

    Dawn Petalino

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