The fool who persists in his folly will become wise (William Blake)

The Fool embraces the unexpected delay as an unforeseen opportunity.

It didn't much feel that way earlier today though. I had readied myself to travel to Manchester for an interview with the Script Team at Shameless (shame on you if you haven't watched it - it has to be one of the most exciting, authentic programmes broadcast!) The preparation had been done, the outfit chosen, the spirit calmed and collected. Then I found out that infact we were meant to be there at 9.30, not 2.30 as we had been told - so interview postponed. As much as I accept all things as the flow of life, I must admit to growling down the telephone at the messenger of this news.

That is, until my fellow wild woman Ruth informed me that today was not an auspicious day anyway, especially for Fools, as this was the same day that Pope John XXII had ordered the inquisition at Carcassone to seize the property of witches, sorcerors , those who make wax images, and troubadours.

Follow the story if you will...

1) last night I had a dream and in the dream I was holding a piece of parchment, old and stained. On this I saw written in script the names of people and beside the names, titles such as God's Fool, Troubadour, Minstrel etc. The edges of this paper were burnt black;

2) when I was in the Convent, I met a Friar from New York who remarked that there was a link between the Troubadour and the Franciscan, with the poet being at the centre of this heart - a bolt shot through me as he said this. This I KNEW. Discovering and embracing my path as the Fool was the most profound experience;

3) the only thing I knew about St Francis when I entered the Convent was that he was called God's Fool (if you want to read more on him, try starting with The Journey and The Dream, by Murray Bodo);

4) 1 year ago, we were visited by the Troubadours of Divine Bliss from Kentucky - the result of me having emailed them a year before that, when stumbling on their site as I followed the scent of the Troubadour;

5) 2 years ago, I was offered the chance to stay in Carcassonne at a writing retreat - I was too ill to take the opportunity, but nevertheless...

6) 3 years ago, I declared one day, in the company of wild women, that I was a Troubadour, that I had been a Troubadour before...it came out the blue, but hit me with such clarity that I had to say it out loud;

7) at the same time, I was given a beautiful gift that now sits on my fireplace - a large silver spoon, and on it is engraved Troubadour - not his doing, but an old spoon, and an old engraving!

Part of the journey is recognising the scent and following it, wherever it goes. So, thanks Ruth for putting another piece in the puzzle. I don't quite know why the events of today happened, but I am renewed in my belief that there is a path unfolding that I must trust, even if I can't see it all clearly.