Divine Timing

What kind of fuckery is this?” Amy Winehouse crooned from Cyn’s alarm. Cyn jolted up from her sleep wondering the same thing about the weird dream she had just awakened from. She turned off the alarm and laid back down staring up at her ceiling. It was artfully painted like the sky with vibrant blues and fat white clouds of all different shapes and sizes, the finishing touch of course a sparkling glitter coat. It comforted Cyn every morning, as the sky would always be her favorite view.

She leaned over her bed to grab the fifty million pillows she took off her bed every night to sleep, and sat them up behind her she could sit up and start her daily morning routine. She began with a positive guided meditation. Cyn grabbed her black studded air pods, laid back and closed her eyes. The soft voice of a woman affirmed how safe she was, how wonderful of a divine creator she was, and how great this day would be. As the meditation ended Cyn sat there for a little while longer, now further contemplating her dream, trying to realize what it all meant.

In her dream she recalled running in this void of blinding whiteness, nothing at all was around her accept double spaced black lines on the ground, as if she was running on the empty pages of a notebook. Then suddenly huge floating words came from every direction attacking her, never getting close enough to harm her, simply disappearing once within a certain vicinity to her personal bubble. The words were random and flew by too fast for Cyn to read. Some enormous like a dinosaur others as small as a bee, all written in bold, intense fonts, and remarkably dark colors of black, blue and crimson. She ran for what felt like an eternity, no clue of where she was going or why she was there. Until she came to a huge wooden door, a deep dark mahogany with engravings she didn’t recognize and a simple brass doorknob. But before she could reach the door her alarm brought her back to the conscious world.

Upon thinking of the dream there was no denying what it meant to Cyn. She turned to lay on her side and sighed a deep breath of exasperation and laughter. There was no hiding from her subconscious, it was gently nudging her and reminding her again that her dream of being a writer was her purpose, her destiny. Cyn had buried herself in her work of an interior designers’ assistant, she liked it enough. She went to school for interior design just as her mother, but never expressed quite the same passion for it. The job gave her weekends off, which she could’ve used to write but instead she volunteered at various homeless shelters, pet shelters, retiring homes, soup kitchens, churches, too many to name. A good deed but it really was just her preferred distraction. Throughout childhood she had been inclined to forget her dreams, her wants, to appease her mother, something she had yet to grow out of as an adult. She knew this and with the help of shadow work and a shaman, she was slowly but surely releasing her people-pleasing tendencies.

Sick of being in bed, Cyn hopped up to start her day. “Today I’m gonna write something. I don’t know what yet, but something” she affirmed aloud to herself.

As she washed her breakfast dishes she recalled a box of writing materials gifted from her grandmother hid away in her guest bedroom. Her guest bedroom was only used when her sister and niece came to visit, which unfortunately hadn’t happened in awhile. She walked into the room and opened the closet, the box sat at the top shelf, it was once a lovely, bright powder blue, but with the thick layer of dust covering it she couldn’t tell. Cyn opened it and inside there was a writing prompt book, a small black notebook embroidered with a heart and her initials, a pink notebook, plenty of gel point pens, and a letter written on her grandmothers infamous floral stationary.

The letter read “My dearest Cyn, I know of the love you hold for writing, that you’ve always had and someday I hope you’ll use the courage that lies within to tell your stories that so many would love to hear. With love, Grandma.”

A tear fell from Cyn’s eyes and she couldn’t help but be so grateful to have someone as wonderful as her grandmother, always support her. The letter was all the confirmation she needed to start writing again.

Cyn opened the pink journal and on the inside cover her grandmother had written “For the manifestations of your mind.” she found it odd wording but wasn’t surprised as her grandmother was a very eccentric woman. Curiously, Cyn opened the black journal to see her grandmother had written “For the manifestations of your heart.” and also a huge symbol that looked much like a mandala but not completely floral and circular like the ones she was used to seeing. This symbol had triangles at its center, then some flower shapes and a square geometric shape at the outer edge. The symbol was colored with pastel rainbow colors, she could feel the outline vividly under her fingers. It looked like the symbol on the door from her dream.

Realizing she was distracting herself again she opened the writing prompt book and flipped through, the first few were uninspiring to Cyn, the next few seemed too complicated, then she saw a prompt that read “Write about a situation that went wrong in your life, turning out how you wished it would have happened, in the perspective of the opposite person”. It immediately made her think of the argument she had with her sister that led to them not speaking for the last 6 months. They had argued about Cyn throwing her writing talents away to appease their mother, who had now been dead 5 years. It was their biggest fight ever and her sister had been right, Cyn just didn’t want to admit it.

Inspired Cyn began writing and writing but when it got to the point where she could switch the ending she just couldn’t do it, she still didn’t know how she could’ve worded things differently, even though now, with all her soul she agreed with her sister. It was much easier for Cyn to feel things, rather then say them, which had been further cause of her ignoring her dream in the first place.

Disappointed that writers block and stumbled along her path so quickly, she grabbed her bike and decided to get some fresh air. She began riding towards the park appreciating the slight spring breeze gliding across her skin and the warmth of the sun. The air smelt of flowers, freshly cut grass, and the sweet frosting of her favorite cupcake shop. She decided to go in and get her favorite espresso dark chocolate chip cupcake to eat at the park.

Once inside she stopped dead in her tracks, immediately recognizing the dark brown curls and caramel sun kissed skin of her ex-boyfriend, waiting in line with his mother. Not ready to face either of them she rushed back out to her bike and began pedaling as fast as she could until she finally got to the park. “What are the odds, I haven’t seen him in months and of all days, the day I have an epiphany there he is standing in MY favorite bakery, that I showed him.” Cyn muttered aloud. Setting her bike down she plopped on the ground and stared up at the sky, no cloud in sight it was actually quite a boring sky she thought. Her mind wandered to nowhere and she fell asleep out of pure emotional exhaustion.

The twinkling bells of Cyn’s alarm on her phone woke her up, to see she had slept for an hour and a half in the grass like a lunatic. Embarrassed and surprised no one had woke her, she hopped up and stretched her limbs. Her alarm was a reminder was for the breath-work session she had scheduled with her shaman Lila to ring in the new moon.

Once home Cyn took a quick shower, she finished dressing just as Lila FaceTimed her. They began with talking about the intentions of the session and then Cyn wrote out what she wished to manifest.

She wrote:

I am so grateful to have manifested financial stability.

I am so grateful to be living my purpose.

I am so grateful to be rebuilding relationships with my loved ones.

Afterwards Lila continued with the thirty minute breath-work session, where Cyn unexpectedly got too relaxed and fell asleep.

The gurgling of her empty stomach woke Cyn up and she tried to get up but couldn’t, her covers felt unusually heavy, like she had a weighted blanket, slightly struggling to get up she reached over to turn in her lamp then looked back at her bed and muttered “What the hell!” Her bed was covered in dollar bills, a lot of them, more than Cyn had ever seen at once. “How on earth did all of this money get in here, on my bed?!” Cyn was the only one with the key to her condo and she hadn’t left it all night. Cyn got out of bed and started pacing around “there’s no logical explanation for how all this money had ended up here”. Remembering she had the counterfeit pen her mom used to carry as a precaution she grabbed it and began to check the bills, “Real, real, real”. “But how, it makes no sense! Did my manifesting really happen that quickly?. She walked back to her nightstand to check her phone the time read 10:10 am and she had voicemails from both her sister and her boss.

Cyn played the one from her boss Monica first. Monica had noticed Cyn didn’t have her heart in the job anymore, so she found a new assistant and was encouraging Cyn to finally follow her dreams. Her sisters voicemail had simply stated “I miss you. Let’s stop fighting. Call me”.

Shocked that this was happening, but the evidence was undeniable she had manifested all of this in one night. “It has to be that book” Cyn muttered “What type of juju did grandma put on that thing?”

Ding dong, Cyn’s doorbell rang. At the door stood a delivery boy from her favorite bakery. She accepted the treat and tipped him. She sat the box down and on top lay a card, it read “I saw you run out yesterday. So I bought these for you, no pressure but I would love to catch up. Love, Trevor”. The cupcakes were from her ex. Cyn could not believe her eyes “This can’t be happening, wow I think I’m about to pass out” Cyn whispered as she fell onto the floor.

She awoke to Lila fanning her with huge brown leaves and the scent of incense.

“Finally my child, how are you feeling.” Lila asked.

“I feel like... I don’t know how I feel, I’ve never felt this way before, not bad but not quite good either. How’d you get in?” Cyn responded.

“You’re not very good at hiding keys” Lila laughed. “But you are a powerful creator.” Lila gestured to the black book and bag of money. “I see you finally found the notebook your grandmother left you.”

“You knew about that? Is that why all of this happened so fast.”

“It played a huge role in it yes. Your grandmother drew this sri yantra mandala in this notebook and attached some of her essence to it, making it a magnificent conduit for your manifestations.”

“So I can write whatever I want in that book and get it?”

“As long as it is aligned with the universe and your purpose yes!” Lila responded with a grin.

“If I can have everything I want at my fingertips, what do I do now?” Cyn said her brow furrowed in speculation and confusion.

“Live my child, live.” Lila replies with a look deep love and fondness in her eyes.