Remember drawing on the driveway with chalk? Actually, when I was a kid we had to find a white rock to do our drawings. In the sixties, our parents felt no need to buy chalk when a perfectly good white rock would do.
Sometimes we drew pictures, other times it was a hopscotch game, but we drew all day long, much to the consternation of my father who came home to see his driveway covered in daisies and elephants (the only two things I could draw).
I’m sharing this because I’ve been experiencing a very difficult coaching situation the past couple of weeks, dealing with a dark spiritual issue for which I have no answers. I arranged a meeting for my client with some professionals who were located in the city where he lives. I thought about him the entire day of that scheduled meeting, hoping he could find an answer. I felt as if I had let him down.
Frustrated and discouraged, I got home from work and stepped out of my car. Something caught my eye immediately. In the dirt of the driveway where my husband normally parks was a drawing. It had not been there when my husband left for work, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t experienced a psychotic break that caused me to come home and draw on my driveway. Plus, I’ve never been able to draw this well.
I could only photograph a portion of it, since the drawing covered a two-car concrete slab. I couldn’t find any breaks in the circles, and it seemed that some gravel rocks had been strategically placed. I wondered if some roaming band of children had drawn it, but we live in the country, and all neighbors have a few acres of oak trees separating them. Plus, on either side of us are older couples with grown kids and across from us is about twenty acres of trees.
I considered the possibility of a very creative snail, but I saw no slime.
Here is the photo (also seen above):
I’m not sure exactly what it meant, but I felt comforted by it. Still trying to debunk it, I also checked the trash schedule to make sure our trash guy wasn’t discovering his artistic side all over our driveway.
So, why the heck am I talking about a dirt drawing?
Excellent question. I think it’s because each time I start to doubt that there is something bigger than us, and just when the storm of my doubt and fear reaches proportions worthy of being named by the Weather Channel, something like this happens. No, I don’t find drawings like this everywhere, but something else occurs:
Something good happens to quiet my rolling soul, and I enter a calm weather pattern that allows me to be a more positive human being.
It’s hard for us to have a powered-up family, workplace, or world, when we’re all at emotional hurricane levels. We need to be aware that not only does every emotion we exude have some weird, energetic domino impact . . . but we are watched over. Every single day. Even when we get sick, or fall down a well, or lose our keys for the nineteenth time.
Even when we go to war, and lose our loved ones, and face a plague.
This isn’t exactly an advanced meditation technique, but . . .
Yesterday, I was on the phone with my daughter who was walking through the streets of New York City. She told me it was extremely cold, and I could hear the wind whipping across her ear piece. She stopped to try and zip up her jacket just about the time the wind blew a gust worthy of Jim Cantore’s attention.
She spontaneously yelled out, “Calm the f**k down, Mother Nature!” I burst out laughing, because it was such a genuine request.
I’m going to use that phrase in the future when I get all coiled up over something. Before I strike, I’m going to say to myself, “Calm the f**k down, Donna. The Universe has got you covered.”
What about you? What has happened in your life just when you needed it most?