I am on track. I know I am. I followed everything my gut told me to do. Just, I’m a little bit stretched at the moment. My afternoon meeting was wonderful, inspiring, taking me and my conversation partner to spiritual places we rarely ever reach. It ran two hours over time.
I’ve been asked to write up the breakfast event I went to yesterday. It’s a great opportunity to speak to a large, influential group with my writing. I promised it for tomorrow. A journalist who interviewed me in December has sent her article for review. I promised that for tomorrow, too.
By the time I run out the door of my hotel for my evening meeting there’s no time to call my husband – unless I call him as I drive..? He’s a man of integrity, he tells me that’s not okay and hangs up on me. So now I’m driving through dark, unfamiliar countryside, rain pouring, late, disconnected from my loved ones not just by distance and time, but by disapproval and anger, too. It seems I have time for everyone and everything but them.
In times like these, my life often tests me even more. I’ve lost my wallet. I hoped it might be in the car, but it’s not, and I know I’m either going to have to beg for my dinner, or sit through the evening so hungry I won’t function well. I wonder how I’ll get back to France tomorrow. The journey takes more than a tank of fuel.
The number plate of the car in front of me ends in the letters “BEG”, a reminder to re-engage my sense of humour. But just at this point, I can’t. It’s all got a bit too hard. I’m almost in tears, I can’t find a car park, and this meeting is very important, personally, to me.
I walk into the pub, I greet the people I am meeting with as much of a smile as I can muster. They are kind, buy me a drink and a bowl of fries; now I can get my brain back in gear, smile a bit wider, get involved, excited by our subject matter, get back to myself again.
It’s still dark and raining as I drive the 45 minutes back to the hotel; but I’m back on track now, and I know – as I did before – that I always was.
I find my wallet in the bottom of my suitcase, under all the clothes. How the hell did it get there? “What’s going on?” I ask “My life’s supposed to be easy, remember?”
“It’s okay,” says my instinct, “All this is just training. You should see what’s coming up next…”