A few weeks ago, on a Saturday, I was racing to a hair cut. I didn’t need to be racing, but I was hungry beforehand and insisted on eating something first. So I was late. As I gunned down the street, I made the split second decision to jump a yellow light just as it was turning red. Through the corner of my eye I saw the boy on his bike waiting to cross the street. As I raced through the intersection, he was looking at the cross signal and obediently began to cross when it told him to . . . . .
The brakes on my hand me down R32 (thanks to my car geek husband) are superb and allowed me to stop right at the edge of what could have been. The moon and stars aligned for both me and that little boy. We gave each other shocked looks acknowledging our shared dance at the edge of the precipice and then proceeded along our way. I pulled into the lot for my appointment (on time – yay for me). The car that had been following behind pulled in after me and I was sure they were going to chastise me and I was not going to argue. Instead the woman said, “The Gods were with you today.” And indeed they were. Indeed they were.
I tell you this story with you because I need to make it real for myself. My hope is that sharing it will help me to never, ever, forget it. I want to live by it whenever possible. As someone prone to stress and the loss of perspective this entails, I want it to serve as a positive motivator to stay present. I hope sharing it will help me to stay accountable to the message. TAKE NOTHING FOR GRANTED.
There is an invisible line between us and the other side. The place where time stops and we are spun unfettered into a universe free from the order and monotony that lulls us into boredom and complacency and also keeps us ignorant of the mystery. The mystery is as fierce as it is awesome, as beckoning as it is terrifying. I suppose many of us wish to live in the “good” part of the awesome. The full night sky stretching far and away, and we for a precious moment go there too. Or the cool, synchronistic coincidence when you have the dream that is manifested in `real life,’ or think the thought privately that then happens right before your eyes. It’s the other part – the trauma part, when life as we know it no longer holds us within its boundaries of time, space, numbers and routines and we are thrown beyond its predictability and comforts, those are the moments we dread. And perhaps that is why it is so easy to forget the mystery and rush to appointments that we ourselves prefigured our lateness to.