The strange phenomenon started for Karley one day as she sat in her favorite spot

in her garden with her journal in her lap contemplating what to write or draw. She
loved this garden and cottage which she had called home for ten years now since her
retirement decision to leave the city and move to a much more bucolic environment.
It was an overcast day. She wished the sun would break through. It wasn’t exactly
gloomy, just overcast, foretelling the coming of rain with thick clouds blocking
the sun. The roses about her in the garden seemed downcast because of the lack of
sunshine to spur their blooms into opening so they could spread their perfume into
the air as was their job. She was contemplating all this when the opening for a
story flitted through her mind once, twice, thrice as if to say, “Write me down.”

So, Karley clicked open her trusty liquid gel ink pen and wrote: “Once upon a time
in a gloomy land where roses could not thrive, a fairy maiden took pity on these
magnificent flowers and called upon the sun to shine upon them that they might
bloom.” She felt an unfamiliar tingle in her hands as the words flowed forth upon
the page. It startled her and she dropped her pen into her lap.

She looked up from her journal and blinked. She shifted her gaze to the sky. Rain-
filled clouds were dissolving. Sunshine was filling the garden around her. Roses
were opening up. The air was quickly becoming suffused with rose perfume and
rainbow- colored butterflies were flitting about. She blinked again and saw more
clearly. What she had thought were butterflies at first glance now showed
themselves to be rainbow winged beings distinctly akin to fairies from stories of
old.

An unmistakable vibration of magic shook her. Was this happening a coincidence? She
retrieved her pen and wrote more. “The rainbow winged beings transformed into
butterflies.”

She looked up again. The rainbow winged beings she had seen only moments before now
were clearly butterflies. Karley gasped. She was excited, puzzled, and a bit
unnerved by what she had just observed. She had no clue what was happening or why,
but she was also intensely curious. Curiosity had been a key aspect of her life as
a child and had remained so all seventy-five years up to this moment. She wrote: “A
cat entered the garden and stretched itself out lolling upon bench where a young
maiden sat writing in her journal.”

That same and now less unfamiliar tingle struck her hands again. She looked at her
hands and saw the tell-tale age lines fade from them. Then, she felt a purring
presence sharing the bench with her. She stroked the cat and its purr rumbled with
pleasure. She wrote: “The young maiden welcomed the cat’s company. It was a
beautiful tortoise shell calico cat.” She looked down at the cat lolling beside her
and its perfect tortoise shell markings came into focus. She clicked her pen
closed. The cat did not disappear.

Karley rose and went into her cottage. The cat followed her as she walked into her
kitchen. Karley offered the cat a bowl of milk and pondered all that had just
happened. If this magic of her written words becoming solidly real was a lasting
gift, she needed to think deeply about the meaning and purpose of this gift coming
to her here and now.

She left her journal and pen on her kitchen table, went to her bathroom and drew
herself a hot bath. The cat followed her, making himself at home, even giving
himself a thorough licking as she stepped into her relaxing bath.

“You need a name,” she said talking to the cat. “I know! I am going to call you
Geni cause in the Aladdin story, a Genie appeared like magic when Aladdin rubbed an
old lamp. My pen was rubbing the paper when I was writing and you appeared.”
“Meow…purr…purr,” Geni responded. He left the bathroom and jumped up on Karley’s
bed awaiting her to join him for a good sleep.

Karley chuckled and said, “You are right, Geni, a good nap is exactly what I need
now.”

She fell asleep quickly and dreamed. Her dreams were filled with images showing her
different scenarios of what having this strange power might mean, of what she could
bring into being. She awoke more befuddled than ever. What she knew without a doubt
was that whatever she wrote in her journal would come true, and so she knew that
her writing would have consequences beyond here and now. It was a realization of an
overwhelming responsibility, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Before the
events in the garden, her writing had mostly been for her own pleasure or a way to
process her own pain. For the next three days she pondered and prayed for guidance
without writing a word.

On the fourth day, she opened her journal and wrote: “I accept this is happening. I
ask for divine guidance.” She waited in meditative silence. Then, like a telegram
word by word in her mind she read, “Follow your heart one word at a time.” She
nodded and wrote in her journal: “I know my childhood friend Cecelia has been ill,
but now she will begin to heal from the inside out.” She closed her journal.

Cecelia lived about an hour’s drive from her cottage. They usually communicated
every few days by phone. Sometimes Karley would drive to Cecelia’s house and visit
with her for an hour or so and then return home.

After writing the entry in her journal about Cecelia, Karley made herself some
coffee and an English muffin. She had no sooner finished this light breakfast when
the phone rang.

“Hello,” Karley answered.

“Karley, it’s me,” Cecelia knew Karley would recognize her voice.

“Yes, Celie, how are you this fine morning?” Karley asked using the nickname Celie
she had given her friend when they were children.

Cecelia giggled and poured out her news that she had never awakened that morning
feeling so good. She invited Karley to come over and Karley happily agreed to do so
in a day or two.

“Take care of yourself,” Karley ended the call, “Love you.”

“Me love you too,” Cecelia gave her regular response, and hung up.

Karley waited a day and then drove to Celie’s house hoping to find her increasingly
better, and she did. They had a lovely visit. About ten days later Celie called to
tell Karley that her doctor had pronounced her cured. He didn’t know why or how,
but all the tests that had previously showed malignancy had come back benign.
Karley told her that she was so happy for her and they would see each other soon.

Karley went into the garden and sat with her journal in her lap and her pen at the
ready. She knew from experiences with the Guardians, invisible forces of the
cosmos, which she began knowing in childhood that this gift of pen power as she
called it had not been given lightly. She also knew that she absolutely couldn’t
abuse it or seek to profit from it. She was being trusted to use it to make life
better. She decided to start typing her words to see if the power remained as when
she wrote by hand.
She decided to start small with a local situation. Many people in her village
wanted curbside pick-up of recyclables. However, there had been a faction on the
village council who thought it wouldn’t work and so had not passed a resolution to
even put a pilot program into place. Karley secretly thought the reticence came
from those who wanted to profit personally from such a program and hadn’t yet
figured out how to best work that out. She sat down at her computer and typed: “At
the next village council meeting a resolution will be passed that starts a
nonprofit, member supported, curbside pick-up program in our village. The members
will pay a reasonable membership fee. Any villager may join. The members will meet
and peacefully work out the practical details for the common good of the village.”
She saved the piece in a folder on her hard drive. She picked up her journal and
trusty pen and with a cup of coffee went out into the garden to enjoy the beauty.
The next village council meeting was a few days hence. She would attend and see
what happened. She drank her coffee and drew sketches of the flowers gracing her
garden.

The village council meeting was well attended. Their agenda was posted and the item
of curb-side recycling was on that agenda. There was much discussion about that
item and to Karley’s delight, a resolution for curb-side pick-up of recyclables was
written, voted on, and passed with a majority of the council. Karley walked home
that night with her mind buzzing about items she could quietly tackle where her
words meant to serve the common good would come to life.

She kept thinking about what she had been told about following her heart one word
at a time. She thought about the imbalance she felt in the world beyond the borders
of her village. Imbalance that had materialized in greed, lust for power, and
tyrants who had not an ounce of concern about the common good. She thought about
the need for more empathy, selflessness, cooperation, courage, and understanding
among her fellow humans around the world.

That night, all those thoughts were swirling relentlessly in her mind. She sat down
at her computer, but couldn’t type. She dug in a drawer where she kept a supply of
journals. She pulled them out and laid them down on the kitchen table. She sat down
and meditated calming her heart and mind. Then, she stood and ran her hands in the
air above the journals saying: “Choose, oh Divine Guardians, place my hand on the
journal where I will use the gift of pen power you have granted me to write into
being a better world to help the people of the world and enhance the common good
for all.” She stood with eyes closed and waited.

The vibrational tingling started in her toes and moved up through her whole body
even unto her crown chakra and then ended in her hands. She opened her eyes and saw
that she was touching a beautiful red leather journal she had been saving for years
knowing it would be special. She smiled, picked it up and thanked the Divine
Guardians. Again, like a telegram a message came into her mind. “Use this well.
Always follow your heart and keep the common good of all the people everywhere in
mind as you write. You will have time to do all that must be done using Pen Power
in this journal. But the changes you write will not all happen at once. However,
they will all happen. The timeline is beyond your life time. Have courage, be love,
and be the change you wish to see in the world. Do you remember who said this?”

“Do you mean about being the change I wish to see?” Karley asked mentally.

“Yes,” came the answer.

“I’ve always thought it was Mahatma Ghandi,” Karley answered.

“Yes, perhaps some others also, but Ghandi got the most press about it, so we
Guardians are happy to give him credit.” The Guardian paused and then continued,
“Are you ready?”
Karley nodded her assent.

“Start small and work upward,” the Guardian advised and left. He was no longer
connected up in her mind.

That very night Karley began her work, writing in that beautiful red leather
journal. She wrote: “Let the people of the world start listening to each other in
order to understand each other’s needs and work toward making opportunities for
those needs to be met peacefully.”

About a month later she heard on the news that a peace accord was finally being
successfully being worked out in the Middle East where wars had ravaged for
centuries. It was called a miracle. Karley knew it was just a beginning of her work
with Pen Power.

Karley lived and wrote in that beautiful red journal and two others many years
before her death. She had received a communication from the Guardians shortly
before her death that the journals were to be ceremonially burned. Their writings
were preserved in the great cosmic Akashic Library and their truths would continue
working themselves out until all had become reality and balance amongst living
beings was restored and planet earth healed and made whole again. She did as she
was instructed. She knew only time would tell the when, where, and how the full
reality would come to be. She died peacefully surrounded by the invisible Guardians
who welcomed her Spirit and left the perfume of roses suffusing the air where her
body lay.

When her cottage was visited a few days later, the perfume of roses still lingered,
but her body had vanished and was never found. She passed into the realm of legend.