Whatta Coinky-dink!

One of my friends sent me this email recently, which cracked me up:

"Sooo, per this book I am reading - “The Celestine Prophecy”, the 2nd prophecy is an increased consciousness of coincidences in our lives. This morning, I found an earring I had lost like 4 weeks ago in the parking lot. It was just lying there - randomly. It's crushed and unusable, but how weird is that? It also happened to be one of my favorite earrings, so it really sucks that's it's unusable.....

Give me your conclusions - work those creativity cells...:-)"

Well, here goes...

Dictionary.com tells me that a coincidence is "a striking occurrence of two or more events at one time apparently by mere chance." That first part explains what excites us enough to give these little happenstances a name in the first place: "a striking occurrence of two or more events at the same time. "Then there's the part that's important: "apparently by mere chance." That is, randomly, with no design or purpose. There are those who say that "there are no coincidences," meaning everything has a reason. Without getting into Calvinism here, I'm not so sure I believe every little detail is somehow preordained. I mean, was it really somehow cosmically significant that I decided on fuchsia toenail polish at my last pedicure? Or that I just heard "Annie Are You Okay?" on the radio on my way home from work? Or that I got a doughnut at QT this morning? (Okay, so sue me!)

Probably not. But I do believe some things are beyond mere coincidence. Some things do happen "for a reason." Last summer I read Eat, Pray, Love, because I was recently divorced, not in a relationship, and over thirty, so it was required reading. Let me just say, the hype is for good reason. I love Elizabeth Gilbert. Funny, spiritual, insightful, and doesn't take herself too seriously. Everything I strive for. For those of you who weren't required to read it, here's the Cliff"s Notes version: Woman in flux travels for a year to Italy (Eat), India (Pray) and Indonesia (Love). And by Indonesia, she means Bali specifically. Travel journal meets spiritual awakening memoir. Good stuff.

Last summer I also moved into my house (which I still freaking love, by the way). The night before the movers came, I read the very last page of Eat, Pray, Love then packed it with the rest of my books. Moving day: I am unloading my stuff into my adorable new home, and I meet the neighbors. The family on one side comes over to greet me with shy politeness, and I know the clipped accent and tawny skin tone right away. They hail from India. Coincidence? Wait. Then the neighbors from the other side drop by. They are a charming couple, full of smiles and warmth, and they too have dark complexions and accents. Where are they from?

Bali. I'm not kidding.

Now, if I told you that the guy across the street came by with some Chianti and gnocchi to say "Benvenuto, bella!" that'd just be too weird, wouldn't it? Yes, it would. Besides, I already know how to eat, thank you. It's the praying and loving I need to work on. And how perfect is it that I am sandwiched between Bali (Love) and India (Pray) in this new place, a place where I will learn who I really am when I am on my own. Coincidence? I think not.

So as for the crushed earring...well, that just sucks. Was the Universe trying to tell you something? If so, it seems like a rather mean message. If anything, it is a reminder of the impermanence of everything, a lesson the Universe sends me all the time. Don't get too attached to these earrings (or that job, or this body, or that man...) because nothing lasts forever. But hell, you could have learned that from losing it in the first place. Why did the Universe have to show you the damaged jewelry? Almost like it was saying "Ha! Guess you won't be wearing these anymore, huh? Mwahahahaha!"

Maybe the Universe showed you the crushed earring so you could go ahead and throw away its mate, since you won't need it now. And hey! Maybe this is the Universe telling you to go jewelry shopping to replace them! Of course, if you read my last post, you know I'm still working on this one.

So that's my take on coincidence. Does every little thing happen for a reason? Probably not. But if we can learn from any situation, does it really matter if an event was chance or fate? The meaning we find in our lives doesn't come from the design or intent of some other entity...it comes from us.

Okay, that's it. I'm all outta creativity cells now. Think I'm gonna go Eat, Play, and Watch Lost.

"You Can Take This to the Bank"

I freak out about money. I admit it; as much as I try to let go of worrying and stay in the present moment, when it comes to finances, I freak right the hell out.

In those just-woke-up, early morning moments, I chastise myself for any recent, unnecessary purchases. This is the kind of Gollum/Smeagol dialogue that will ensue inside my head:

"Did you really need that bronze Kathy Van Zeeland purse?"
"But I got it at Ross...only $39.99."
"Still, you need to be saving for the summer. And don't you want to go on a trip? Would you rather have that bag or go to London?"
"That's a good point...."
"You should take it back."
"No, I love it! Please. How about this. I won't make any more purchases. The only place I will shop is Publix. For real this time."

And then I make a vow to myself: no more unnecessary purchases until I have "financial security." Whenever and whatever that may be.

See, when I got divorced, I didn't want the house, the furniture, the dishes, the pots and pans, etc. What I wanted was a chance to prove to myself that I could get my life together and take care of me and my kids on my own. I wanted a fresh start and a new home. I wanted the feeling that comes with looking around me and knowing, "I did all this." However, making that fresh start with a B.A. in English, an M.Ed. in English Education, and a twelve year gap on my resume proved harder than I ever imagined. No one goes into teaching for the money. (Still, my house does look pretty darn cute. Craigslist and consignment stores are awesome.)

Of course, my ultimate intention is to make a living as a writer, but those seeds are still germinating. So in the meantime, I teach, mostly "part time." (Part time pay, full time hours.) But without a Ph.D. I don't have much (any?) chance for tenure, and since I know a Ph.D. in English really isn't my bliss anyway, I need more options. If I weren't a mom, I know exactly what I would do: take an assignment teaching English in another country. Hands down. But I am tethered to the U.S., for now at least. Still, I believe things tend to work out for us, if we just go with the flow.

For example, I recently found in my mailbox a ConEd catalog from the university where I teach. They offer a certification program for TESOL (Teaching English to folks who don't speak it, who are therefore "SOL"). The cert requires three classes, each one a whopping $399. HOWEVER, I discovered that we, as faculty, get to take these classes for the low low price of "free." Beautiful! Maybe I could do this teach-in-a-foreign-country pipe dream for a summer and take the kids with me. I brought home some brochures about teaching English abroad just for fun, letting the kids discuss over dinner whether we would go to Thailand, Chile, Spain, or China. They voted for China.

"China?"

Anyway, back to the purse dilemma. Spiritually, I could be affirming daily that I am wealthy, that the Universe spills its abundance all over me, that I am bringing piles of money to myself right now, today. I once heard a New Thought minister say she set her intention on paying cash for a new Mercedes, and by gum, she got it. (Applause.)

But that ain't how my spirchul brain works. I love money--don't get me wrong. It equals travel. Still, I would rather affirm that I am whole, complete, and content without the Kathy bag. I don't need the Universe to spill enough money on me so I can buy it. I need It to help me see that I have no desire for the purse in the first place. I know in my heart that I did not buy it because the ones I already have weren't doing their job (although the black one is getting tattered...). I bought it because it gave me a little buzz: when I got it for less than half the MSRP, when I put all my stuff in it and admired it in the mirror, and when the girl in the elevator in the English building said, "I love your purse!"

Squee!

But that buzz will wear off, and then I will want the next. Maybe this time it will be a lip gloss that will change my life. Or a pair of shoes. Or a cute top. Ultimately, I want to quit wanting and just be happy with what I already have. I also want to get to that place where I feel complete and worthy, independent of any earning power or asset accumulation. If I'm a spiritual being, then the circumstances of this particular human experience no more define my soul than the outfit I wore Saturday night defines my identity. But this is hard to get into my brain when Gollum and Smeagol are busy bickering about my purchases up in there.

Each one has a point, but each also represents a negative attachment to money. Gollum is the miser who holds onto every penny. This interrupts the flow of giving and receiving in the Universe. And Smeagol is the materialist who tries to fill a void in his soul with "things." I don't want to be either of them. Hopefully, my next buzz might just come from the image of me with my tattered black Kathy bag and the kids, strolling through the streets of London...

Or China?

That Crazy Little Thing...

Some of my friends were hoping this blog would be sort of a "Sex in the City ATL Style." Because, you know...there just isn't enough sex on the internet. Sorry to disappoint my peeps, but my sex life is none of their business. (Okay, who am I kidding... Lately, my sex life isn't even any of MY business.)

However, I am interested in exploring the topic of "love." For some reason, several of my friends have been coming to me for advice about this subject. I guess as a single, divorced woman on the other side of forty, I qualify as some sort of expert in this area. Sort of like going to a priest for marital advice if you ask me. Anyway, the upshot is that I've had a lot of discussions on this topic lately. And I think I am more confused than ever.

One thing has become abundantly clear to me. Everyone defines this animal very differently. In some cultures, it's not even a prerequisite for a successful marriage. A friend of mine got married not too long ago, and he searched for a wife like he was picking out a fridge at Brandsmart: looked at all the models, compared prices, picked a finish he liked, with just the right cubic capacity, and financed that puppy. Done. Next thing.

Me, I tend to have rather romantic notions about love. I think there needs to be that flutter in your gut when your eyes meet across a room. There's something unexpected and spontaneous about how it hits you, too. I'm more likely to purchase that fridge on a trip to the mall for socks. I'll happen to wander through the appliance section, see the fridge of my dreams, and say, "Where have YOU been all my life? You're too big for my kitchen, your color doesn't match my other appliances, and you're way outta my price range, but damn..."

Some of us just want steady, dependable companionship. Togetherness. Let's pay the mortgage together. Let's show up to parties together. Let's watch American Idol together. Let's sit on this porch and grow old in these rockers together. Then some of us want more....need more. Ah, there's the rub. What exactly is that something more? Depends on who you ask.

For me, there are a few somethings more I would like. (And asking is free, right?) First, I want someone who makes me laugh. This is a dealbreaker. Laughter is my salve, my drug of choice, my sacred ritual for any occasion. If I don't laugh with someone, I am not really connecting with that person. And I must connect.

Secondly, I'm an Aquarius, and we're the poster children for A.D.H.D. As one of my buddies says, I'm "overstimulated and easily bored." It's gonna have to be interesting. I crave novelty, abhor routine, and welcome change. And we're also very humanitarian, we Aquarians, so a man concerned with his own spiritual development will get farther in the door than one with a flashy car or designer jeans.

I think my problem is I'm not practical enough. My fridge-shopping friend might have something to teach me about passing over the models that might not work in my kitchen. Perhaps I'm too open to possibilities. Still, I'm not in any hurry to buy, so I won't be making any trips to Brandsmart just yet. Not as long as being alone is also a viable option, and it is.

See, there are so many other kinds of love that sustain us, besides this elusive, fragile, romantic version. I love my friends. Jesus Krishna, I have no idea what I ever did to deserve the friends I have, but I thank whatever karmic deeds my previous incarnations performed to bring these people into my life. They love me, support me, accept me, and make me laugh. May it always be so.

And I love my family. I talk to my mother nearly every day. Not only is she the most compassionate woman I've ever known (except for maybe her mother), she also bestowed on me her wonderful sense of humor. She may not know the meaning of "namaste," but she sympathizes with all her fellow humans and taught me to do the same through her example. Plus she's funny as hell. Bless her. And nobody makes me laugh more than my brother. He might just be the funniest man alive, and for some reason, he thinks I'm pretty cool. I so heart him.

Then there is the Love with a capital L that I have for my kids. It's the kind of love that makes my breath catch in my chest at times. Like when my son once told me, "Mom, I think you're part God, part fairy, and part everything." (sigh) Or when I hear my sardonic sense of humor coming out of my daughter's mouth. She has a "scene name" apparently, which is now her signature on her text messages. I asked her what my scene name should be. Her retort: "Um, ur 40. You don't get one. :)"

If life is a journey, I have had some wonderful traveling companions along the way so far. And most of them have not been "lovers," although I have loved them all. Many come and go, others stick around, and I look forward to the ones who will be joining me further down the road. I guess I am going to continue remaining open to the possibilities. It's worked so far. I'm surrounded by some beautiful souls.

So, as long as I have them in my kitchen...who needs a damn fridge anyway?

Expectations Are Just Premeditated Resentments

I didn't make that up (wish I had), but isn't it so true? Think about it. Whenever we get disappointed, upset, angry, or sad about something, it's because that something didn't turn out "like we expected."

We expect the weather to be nice for an outdoor occasion. We expect our boss to notice the good job we did on that last project. We expect that guy will call us after the awesome date we had last weekend. (And you guys out there expect that your date will "thank you later" for the expensive lobster bisque she ordered at dinner.) Then, when it rains on your parade, when your boss criticizes your performance, when the guy doesn't ever call, (or when she gives you the goodnight handshake), we seethe with righteous indignation. "What the...??"

Blame the E word.

My New Year's resolutions for 2010 included giving up expectations. Like Deepak (Chopra) says, "We don't dig up seeds to see if they are germinating." We ought to make intentions (wishes) but then let go of outcomes, knowing the Universe will conspire to make them come true in ways we may not even understand. But isn't that tantamount to inviting a bunch of people to a party and then expecting the Universe to see to it that my house gets cleaned, the food gets prepared, the flowers get arranged, and the booze gets bought? (I throw awesome parties...) This feels like laziness to me. I'm a planner. I'm organized. I'm all about the details. How can I not dig up those seeds, just to check on em?

Surprisingly, I've been doing rather well on this particular resolution. (My abs are still hiding under a layer of Halloween candy, Christmas cookies, and birthday cake, but this one I've just about nailed.) So how is life without expectations? Well, first of all, I'm not perfect. Still, by being mindful about not expecting stuff, I have really noticed when I do start expecting certain outcomes. And then, I release them. It's very freeing. I forget that I sent off that novel query to that agent. I let go of ever hearing from that cute, funny guy again. I assume that I might be going to see Wilco in the rain. Whatevs. I got an umbrella.

See, it's all about staying present, in the Now, as Eckhart (Tolle) tells us. (By the way, I'm gonna call these guys by their first names, since I feel at this point like we're old pals.) If we are expecting something, then our minds dwell in the future, which is not reality. And if we set up a future in our mind, and the real future doesn't match up...uh oh.

Now this doesn't mean we need to be careless grasshoppers who don't plan for retirement or organize our schedules. We make plans, just aren't attached to the outcome. We know that things change, and we roll with it. We save in our 401K's and IRA's, just don't expect that we will be livin' large in a villa in Costa Rica come 55. We stay where we are: right here, today, in the present.

I am very proud of the fact that I have never imagined my kids as adults. I don't picture them married with 2.5 kids, I don't assume they will get a J.D. or an M.D. or a Ph.D., I don't even take for granted they will be straight. My daughter could grow up to be a lesbian performance artist in New York City, or a palm reader in The French Quarter, or a missionary in the Philippines, and none of it would "disappoint" me. My son may end up a bass player in a jazz band, or a high school principal, or a GM of a cabana bar in Cancun, and again, follow your bliss, son. Only they can determine the paths to follow in this lifetime in order to fulfill their respective purposes. Besides, I got my own life to figure out, so my plate is full. (Anyone want some of this? I can't eat it all...)

So, try it. Let go of expectations, just for one day. See how you feel. Whatever you are presently hoping for, let go of that particular outcome. Plant some seeds, then walk away, knowing they will come up in their own due time. Forget about planning the future. Instead, stay in the present moment, the Now...where all the real fun is.