Oliver's Twist

This Note From the Universe was delivered a few days ago:

"Sometimes that which you don't understand is drawn to you so that you will understand it. But never because you needed the lesson, and not because all must be so initiated, but only because there had been earlier thoughts of awe, wonder, or criticism. And such thoughts, as all thoughts, must have rearranged your life."

This has been sticking in my mind, and I've been tossing it over in my head like a shiny new penny in one's palm.

I was reading the latest O Magazine and Martha Beck's column highlighted Mary Oliver's poetry, which I've also turned to over the years. In the column, she remembered the poem pieces here:

When it's over, I want to say: all my life

I was a bride married to amazement

And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away

from wherever you are, to look for your soul

Maybe it is because earlier thoughts of awe or wonder or criticism that I am quite utterly amazed by things that are happening lately. A four month old baby was found in the Japanese rubble alive and unhurt. I was embraced and kissed by an Italian stranger in the street yesterday while on my way to get a salad for lunch (!) The temps neared 70 today and all thoughts of winter and blizzards were immediately forgiven and forgotten. And much to my surprise, today I heard "Dear Prudence" by the Beatles for the first time--ever. So I will quote the Fab Four and wish you much amazement in your own day:

The sun is up, the sky is blue

It's beautiful, and so are you.

The Someday-Coming Idea

I always find it interesting when a notion keeps nudging at me like a dog trying to get a nose under one's hand in order to be petted. A certain concept has been presenting itself to me in many ways over the past few weeks (months?) and it makes it hard to ignore when it gets louder and more prominent with time. The idea that one feels discomfort at certain points in one's life because some future person or occurrence is pulling you into his/her/its space and trying to bring you out of your present reality and into the next one is a compelling idea. Or put more simply, tomorrow is pulling you towards it, out of the circumstances of today.

The someday-coming person or circumstance is probably feeling your same discomfort and is just as sick of it as you are. This creates some sort of strange harmony, compelling you into action, even if it is something small like going to view the leaves outside, or deciding to drink cider in celebration of the season at a farmer's market. I feel very strongly that this is happening, that something outside of me, something future, something lovely, that is tired of seeing me in the space that I am in and wants me where he/she/it is.

I received the following Note From the Universe recently:

What if loneliness was simply a feeling of impatience, telepathically sent to you by friends you've yet to meet, urging you to go out more, do more, and get involved so that life's serendipities could bring you together...Would you still feel alone?

What if feelings of uncertainty and confusion were only reminders that you have options, that there's no hurry, and that everything is as it should be...Would you still feel disadvantaged?

What if mistakes and failures only ever happened when your life was about to get better than it's ever been before...Would you still call them mistakes and failures?

Yes, what if? What do you think?

Hair and Hot Lava

This was the note from the universe that arrived in my mailbox today:

Any attempt to measure one's progress in life with an assessment of their present physical surroundings or even a panoramic glance at their life and times to date is just plain "whacked." The reason being is that each journey, kind of like a haircut, should never be fully appraised until it's complete. Otherwise, one might mistake a miracle-in-the-making for a setback, loss or "the wet look."

Oh how much sense this makes. A few posts back, I mentioned that my hair, recently cut, was utterly badass and Joan-Jett-ish. Now, it has grown in and though still nice, it's rapidly approaching a flattened version of "The Rachel" (as in from Friends) that was so popular in the mid-90s. Any interpretations of what that might mean, feel free to offer. But be kind.

As a New Yorker, I think I'm utterly amazed by how things happen incrementally. I am used to a quick pace, and perhaps I am more comfortable with a quick pace. That way, I can mash more into my day: meet more friends, have more conversation, more subway rides, accomplish more, see more, do more and plainly, have more stimulus. I'm not necessarily saying that his this best, I'm just saying I'm used to it.

So when I have to adhere to the natural laws, tap into the substance that turns a caterpillar into a butterfly, that makes a seed ever so slowly snake up through the soil and bloom, I am a bit confounded. I imagine that this substance boils hot as lava, but in such a tiny space, it cannot be seen or felt by us humans. The luxury of time, the need for patience is something so new, so radical (or so ancient and so radical) that I am not sure how to respond. I think like all people, we initally poke at it, push it away, shatter the mirror and say "this couldn't possibly be a reflection of me."

And yet, maybe that's what this process is all about. We put things in our path that teach us the lessons we need to learn. One of my favorite Buddhist maxims is "when the student is ready, the teacher will apear." Maybe I need this experience of getting back in touch with that cosmic goo that makes things grow, improve, and find their rightful place--dare I say destiny. And if that means slowing down in order to feel its heat, then so be it.

I have a feeling that all love affairs start with this same hot cosmic goo, too. Hmm...