When the Universe Says Yes
Eight hours between wish and answer. Here's what I'm learning about telling the truth about what you want.
When the Universe Says Yes
At 5 AM, in that blue-black hour before dawn, I sat alone with my coffee and read words that made something inside me ache with recognition.
Jane Duncan Rogers—a writer in Scotland whose work I’d been quietly following—was being celebrated. Honored for writing to older folks. For seeing them. For believing they’re not done yet.
I felt it in my chest first. That pull. That yes. The kind you feel when you see someone living a version of the life you’re trying to name for yourself.
I want to be part of something like that.
I thought it. Barely let myself feel it. Like admitting it too loudly might jinx it or reveal how much I wanted it. Then I closed the browser and moved into my messy, fog-brained day.
Hours later—after I’d discovered I’d sent an important email to only 50 people instead of 900, after I’d fixed it and sent it out properly, after I’d almost given up and gone to nap—an email arrived.
From Jane.
Not a polite reader note. A real one. Warm. Personal. I’ve been reading everything you write. I love your art. You’re special. Let’s talk.
I sat there, staring at the screen, my hands gone still on the keyboard.
Then I looked her up. Really looked.
Trained personally by Louise Hay. Thirty-five years as a counselor. Award-winning author of books about grief as transformation, about prosperity in spiritual work, about living fully before you go. A Woman of Inspiration, literally awarded for it.
She wasn’t just a reader. She was a mirror. Writing the same book I’m writing, from the other side of the ocean and the other side of experience.
And she’d been there all along. Opening my emails. Every single day. Watching. Waiting. And when I finally whispered what I wanted—I want to be part of this—she stepped forward.
Eight hours between wish and answer.
Eight hours.
The universe didn’t need me to build funnels or run Facebook ads or have my shit together. It needed me to tell the truth about what I wanted. To let myself feel it. To stop pretending I didn’t ache for recognition and connection and proof that this work matters.
All I did was admit it. Out loud to no one but myself.
And the answer came back across an ocean, from a woman I’d been reading in the dark, who’d been reading me right back.
This is what happens when you stop hiding what you want. When you write from the place that scares you. When you let yourself be seen by the people who are actually looking.
I’m writing a story right now—Becoming Clara—about a 68-year-old woman discovering she’s not done yet. About starting over when everyone expects you to be winding down. About transformation that doesn’t apologize for happening late.
And apparently, the universe is showing me I’m not just writing it. I’m living it.
If you want to be part of this—the messy, real, sometimes terrifying process of becoming—you can find your way here. Some chapters are free. Some go to paid subscribers. All of it is true, even when it’s fiction.
The question is: what are you whispering at 5 AM that you’re too afraid to say out loud?
Because I’m learning that the universe is listening. And it answers faster than you think.
What did you whisper at 5 AM?
What do you want so badly you’re afraid to say it out loud? What version of yourself are you trying to become when no one’s watching?
This is where that becomes real.
Paid subscribers aren’t just reading my story—they’re writing their own. They’re the women who decided that transformation doesn’t wait for retirement or permission or the perfect moment.
You get every chapter of Becoming Clara. Early access to art. The unfiltered truth about what it takes to become who you were always meant to be.
An annual subscription is just $60 — that’s $4.54 a month, less than your average Starbucks run and a whole lot more nourishing.
Because whispers only become real when you act on them.
About Jane
Jane Duncan Rogers is the writer whose morning post sparked this entire synchronicity. She writes about grief as transformation, prosperity in spiritual work, and living fully before you go. Trained personally by Louise Hay, with 35+ years of counseling experience, Jane’s work reaches women who know they’re not done yet—just like you.
If my words resonated with you, hers will too. We’re writing the same book from different shores. Jane Duncan Rogers