I have been more attune and aware of how the right people are coming into my life at the right time. I sip on my almond latte in a corner table at Elmwood cafe, nose buried deep in The Diary of Anaïs Nin when a man approaches me. He looks at me, my furiously scribbled notes in the side margins, and sits down. "It's rare to see someone not on their phone or laptop here," he says. "I needed to know what you were reading. You're so engrossed in that book." We share stories, dreams, career paths. It turns out he leads creative writing courses. He invites me to join. Later that week, a friend who I'd lost contact with I surprisingly see again. We chat and reconnect, and the energy we exchange activates a part of my creativity in the form of poetry that I had forgotten about. Words flow freely again.

Some may call it serendipity. I am reminded of Bill Moyers' interview with Joseph Campbell about this subject. He asks, "Do you ever have the sense of being helped by hidden hands?"

I love Campbell's response: