A day or so late… but at least I finally finished a Friday prompt… LOL!! A composite of multiple graphite drawings, scanned and imported into Photoshop, manipulated and printed on inkjet printer and then colorized using water soluble graphite pencils.
Well… I have a confession to make. Several weeks ago, Christine Mason Miller‘s book, Ordinary Sparkling Moments arrived beautifully wrapped in turquoise blue tissue paper. You see, I’d volunteered to be a Book Fairy on her behalf, to help spread the wisdom contained within the pages of her book… a project which she calls the 100 books project.
The paper wrapped book sat on my kitchen table for quite some time as I plotted where to leave the book, considering weather patterns (rainy… so not outside), and contemplating on where finding such a book would provide the highest good. While it sat on my table I crashed to an incredible low. We all have them, sometimes. We are wallowing in (perhaps rightly felt) self-pity. Suddenly it occurred to me that I needed some wisdom… some kind words from a kindred spirit.
So I did the unthinkable: carefully peeled up the tape where the bag was sealed, opened it and pulled out the book, not having any idea what to expect. I started reading, getting through half of the book and saving the rest for the following day. What I found was a kind voice, speaking to me exactly the things that I needed to hear at this very moment. How is it that this lovely woman (who is at least a decade younger than I am) had come upon this wisdom so much sooner than I had? It isn’t that I am unaware of these truths, because we all carry this wisdom within the seat of our souls, but certainly to have someone tell it to us when we need to hear it most… that is truly a gift.
After reading through the book, I replaced it into the bag and sealed it back up. This morning I had a doctor’s appointment at the local clinic and I brought the book with me. I figured if you were feeling poorly physically, your spirit could most certainly also use some medicine.
I laid it atop the stack of magazines in the waiting room. It was still there when I went in to be seen, and when I came out I couldn’t tell whether it had merely been shifted deeper into the stack, or whether someone had indeed taken heed of the writing on the bag and accepted the book as the gift that it so rightly is.