Fitzpatrick Lane: A Book of Prayers

Deeply saddened by the sudden death of her mother, New Thought writer Dianne Edleman retreated for a time to a remote country environment to mourn her loss in silence and solitude. There, unexpectedly moved by the beauty of her surroundings and compelled to reconsider her purpose in life, she immersed herself in a practice of photography, meditation and spiritual mind treatment. The experience would prove transforming. In Fitzpatrick Lane, she shares the captivating images, insights and prayers that not only combined to form a work of contemplative art, but launched her into an entirely new way of seeing, thinking and writing.

Dianne Edleman is a writer and consultant based in Aptos, California. A former advertising creative director and lifelong student of metaphysics, she combines original photography, personal experience, and simple, yet powerful spiritual tools to create books that help individuals manage change, attain goals, and achieve greater authenticity in all areas of life.

Dianne describes the events that inspired Fitzpatrick Lane:

On 3rd August 2002, my mother, Luz, passed away from stage four ovarian cancer after having been diagnosed with the illness only six weeks earlier.

I dropped out of a Religious Science class I was taking at the time, flew to South Florida, and stayed with her as she transitioned from hospital to nursing home to her own home and then on to the next plane of existence.

My home had been on the market. When I returned to California, I had only days to finalize its sale and find another place to live. I found that place at the end of Fitzpatrick Lane, a long country road situated high atop a mountain ridge in Occidental. I chose to grieve the loss of my mother there in privacy, quiet and nature.

Despite my wish for solitude, I re-enrolled in the course and began considering what I might do for the required end-of-class project. I decided to watch for signs of communication from my mother and report back to the class what, if anything, happened.

At first, nothing happened. Then one day, a visiting friend picked up a digital camera I had bought on impulse a year earlier and showed me how its memory chip fit into my laptop. Immediately, an image appeared on the screen. It was a picture of my mother smiling up at me. I had taken it shortly after getting the camera and had forgotten all about it.

Unsure of its meaning but accepting the image as a sign nonetheless, I began taking the camera with me wherever I went: into the woods, out to the coast, up to the mountains. I shot whatever moved me, often stopping my car abruptly to capture an image.

As I reviewed the images later, I found myself contemplating the more compelling of them as if they were koans. I recorded the insights they yielded, then wrote spiritual mind treatments to affirm the insights.

The experience was transforming. In turning to nature, contemplation and prayer for solace, I emerged with a far deeper connection to Spirit and a reawakened sense of the artist within me.