Believing anything

The very first copy of my very first book. As my father would say, "How 'bout them apples?"

The very first time I saw the digital proof of the cover I was working for a shaman in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I pulled it up on the computer at the front desk, and my heart pounded to see my name in print. The cover is in Tibetan prayer colors, my shaman's wife informed me. She said that it would be perfect to sell in the office with her Tibetan singing bowls and her red and gold decor. The book never came to life there in Steamboat. It took a year after moving to McKinney, Texas before it materialized.

What was the delay? I have no answer for that. I realize that I'm not in a rush for so much in my life. Before, years before now, I wanted everything NOW. Now, now, now. Now, I just want to be in the now. Now, I want to pay attention, to absorb the textures of what's around me, to have the sounds sink in, the colors swirl through me, and I want to feel the joy in it all. And after a whole bunch of nows, the book is finally published. And the length of time it took doesn't matter. It's here now. It's on the couch beside me as I type this. There are many, many moments throughout my days and nights where I forget it's done. It used to consume me, and now I can go through most of my waking hours without a thought of it.

Now, what consumes me? Besides the PR department at the publishing company? Besides the artwork that flows through my thoughts? Besides the to-do list that sits on the coffee table in front of me? Besides the dirty footprints and pawprints on the floor that need to be cleaned up? Besides all of that, nothing really. Nothing.

And if you believe that...well, you'd believe just about anything.