Books – Birds


I came to my desk and found a pile of file folders stacked there, after yesterday’s closet and cabinet purge:

  • The novel I never finished, called Faith
  • The memoir that sits, ignored for now, called The End of Men
  • The mid-life renaissance book, still forming
  • The book about winning the lottery which was not really about winning the lottery
  • The one about Sacred Story, the one about Story Alchemy, the one called The Story in your Symptoms
  • The one about FLOW that I wrote before my friend, Elissa Stein, wrote, designed and published, her book called FLOW


I have piled them up before, thousands of pages neatly (and not so neatly) tucked into folders, a mountain of incompletion – of good intentions left idle when some bright butterfly zipped by to distract me

What makes me keep starting them, hopefully, certain that this time, I am ready to pull one all the way across the ocean of time and effort it will take?

What made me, today, when I am already overwhelmed with other projects, get them out again…

… and sort through them like a stack of divination cards?

Wondering, which book will:

  • Define me
  • Give me a name.
  • Breathe me to life
  • ?

What journeys we have already made – these books and I. Companions.

Evidence of interior worlds, stacked there, exterior, looking at me with a knowing “I”.

Yesterday, just before I met with a new client, hundreds of black birds landed on my lawn.

I reached for my video camera: birds on lawn

The music in the background was playing when the birds arrived, wings flapping.

It’s A chakra meditation I do before working with a client.

I turned. There they were.

This was not their first visit – they’ve been following me, flocks of them, lifting from trees as I pass – assembling on wires outside the cafe where I write. I love the way they gather, chattering, communal. Nattery and argumentative. Tender and loving. Accommodating, allowing, making room. Pushing and shoving. As the last bird alights, in a magic pattern language I will never understand, the entire flock lifts off. It seems to me, they have been waiting for her.

I put my camera down. The phone rang. I talked with my client. She led me down corridors I have not been down before.

That night: I had a dream

This is what I meant when I told that client: Once you open up a soul question, your life becomes a mystery school: Everything is your teacher. Layers of guidance, sliding over and under each other like veils, concealing, like sails, setting us free.

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Showing 12 comments
  • Shelly

    I love mystery school!

    I also have file folders full of stories and ideas and blurbs and a whole bunch of stuff that I too ask the question ” which one shall I focus on?” Haven’t gotten an answer yet that has made squeee yet :). But I think it’s coming soon 🙂

    • Amy

      Ive been discovering that I can pretty much grab hold of ANY of my projects and jump. They all lead me to the same place in the end. (Wish I’d known this earlier. I’d have gotten A LOT more work finished!) Thanks for your comment, Shelly.

  • Amanda

    Love this, & am wondering how I made it so far into reverb 10 without meeting you! Glad to have finally made the connection.

    • Amy

      Hey, how did i miss this comment… way back then. I’m glad to have met you, too! Love Reverb10 -= and the connections I’ve made there.

  • Lisa MB

    This morning I asked one of those soul-opening questions, went on Twitter to do my #reverb10 rounds, and found my invitation to (re)discover Mystery School.


    Thank you, Amy.


    • Amy

      Welcome, school is in session… every moment! 🙂

  • Liz

    Every time I read your words, there is this tiny part of me that whispers” she gets it!” “she has words to describe me!” I want to sing, if I did that kind of thing.

    • Amy


  • Julie Jordan Scott

    Ahhhh, Amy. So beautiful. How I love these words and am in wonder over who you are… THANK YOU!

  • Square-Peg Karen

    This post wrapped around me – I can’t find one phrase or line to say “this was the one that ‘got’ me”, but it’s wrapped around me, like a waft of smoke (in a good way – grin – smoke doesn’t always have a good connotation, so I’m just saying -> in a good way!)…Beautiful!

    • Amy

      Thanks, Karen! 🙂

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