Finding My True ‘Calling’

Do you believe you are living your true calling? If so, how wonderful.

In my former life as an IT consultant, I frequently feared I had veered off-track. One day, a friend recommended a book entitled The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling, written by leading Jungian psychologist, Dr. James Hillman, PhD. In this book, Dr. Hillman describes what he calls the ‘Acorn Theory,’ proposing that although an acorn doesn’t look anything like an oak tree, it contains all the genetic material required to grow into an oak, as opposed to, say, a turnip, or daffodil, or maple. He also postulates that, similar to an acorn, every human being is born with a defining image or calling. Our calling is innate at birth and manifests throughout our lifetime. Furthermore, our first memory often reveals our true calling.

By then, I’d convinced myself that my calling involved logic, analysis, and struggle. Lots of struggle. High-pressure assignments, swollen egos (mine included), and closed-door politics were the norm. Perhaps, if Dr. Hillman’s theory was true, my early childhood would reveal my true calling.

I took a trip down memory lane.

My earliest memory is of my two-year-old self snuggling up on my grandmother’s lap. She would read a story book to me while I scribbled on a pad of paper, pretending to write. Close on the heels of that image, my next memory is of clutching my favorite book and toddling into my beloved grandmother’s bedroom, where she lay sick.

Noticing the book in my hand, she closed her eyes and murmured, “I’m too sick to read to you today, my wee lamb.”

I clearly remember answering, “But it’s for you to read to yourself. It’ll make you feel better.” In my almost-three-year-old opinion, a good book held miraculous healing powers.

Although I didn’t know it, my beloved grandmother was dying of cancer. A week later, she took her last breath, and I never saw her again. For several decades, I wrote nothing more creative than management reports.

Turns out, however, that the seed of my calling as a writer hadn’t died along with my grandmother, but merely remained dormant, waiting patiently for the right time to germinate. When both climate and soil were right, the seed stirred, sent out shoots, and developed fragrant blossoms.

As author of two romance novels (The Jaguar Legacy and Fur Ball Fever) and working on a third (Cold Feet Fever), I am finally living my true calling.

I would love to hear from you. What are your earliest memories? Is the seed of your calling revealed in those memories?



TJL - 225 px High (72 pxpi)
A reporter on a mission to salvage her career and save her mother’s life …
With her reputation in tatters, acclaimed journalist Charley Underhill invades a remote archaeological dig, determined to unravel rumors of an ancient curse. If it means avoiding hairy, hungry predators or lying to a charismatic archaeologist with a sexy Scottish accent, brilliant scientific mind, and gaudy Hawaiian shirts, she’s up for the challenge. She needs the money to pay for her mother’s life-saving treatment.

A brilliant archaeologist determined to safeguard his discovery …
Hell-bent on guarding the secret of a ruined Olmec city hidden deep in the Mexican jungle, Dr. Alistair Kincaid fears a premature press leak will destroy his last chance at success. He won’t let a snoopy reporter, even one with a quirky sense of humor, smarts, and a heartwarming smile, ruin his career. Or steal his heart.

But ancient danger stalks the jungle on velvet paws …
Secrets collide as strands from past lives intertwine with the present, drawing Charley and Kincaid into a legacy of danger and murder, shape-shifting and mysticism, romance and redemption. Is history doomed to repeat itself or is a new path possible?

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Fur Ball Fever (96dpi - Grey Border)
An impulsive pet spa owner loses her client’s prize pooch …
After a lifetime of impetuous mistakes, Jersey Shore pet spa owner Grace Donnelly outdoes herself when a client’s prize poodle, a shoo-in to win the annual Fur Ball, goes AWOL while in her custody. With money, careers, and lives in jeopardy, Grace is not afraid to strap on the leather to go undercover in a fetish club looking for clues. Too bad her helpers consist of an aging hippie aunt, a renegade schnauzer, a drag queen, and a dominatrix or two. Worst of all, the only man truly qualified to help is her former flame, the most domineering male on the eastern seaboard.

A smokin’ hot bodyguard with his own agenda …
Texas-born security specialist Nick Jackson faces his worst nightmare when Grace’s amateur investigation nearly blows his covert operation. Unless he nails the con-artist who scammed his home-town’s seniors and whacked a witness, his homicidal granddaddy will take justice into his own liver-spotted hands. To salvage his case, his sanity, and his ex-lover’s velvety skin, Nick joins forces with the sassy crusader who rubs him the wrong way–and so many right ways too.

Together, they weather an explosion of murder, mayhem, mystery, & smokin’ hot romance …
Action bounces from the upscale Shore community of Saltwater Estates to a beach harboring washed-up corpses, a fancy yacht no honest preacher could possibly afford, and the bawdiest nightclub in Atlantic City. Hazards multiply like bunnies, culminating in fun, danger, romance … and a Fur Ball extravaganza the locals will never forget.

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I would love to hear from you. Please leave a comment, let me know you’ve read this post, tell me about your earliest memory.

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