I don't know about you, but I've always been fascinated and intrigued by coincidences. So here's one for you: yesterday I was working on my images, and this one seemed to cry out for some flowers; the base looked like a rock garden to me.
So I pulled up a photo of a friend's garden on Orcas Island, a picture I took years ago when I lived on Orcas -- maybe in 1999? And I smiled, applying the image over the base, thinking of that friend, whom I haven't seen for at least a year; maybe two.
And guess who called me yesterday afternoon? Yep, it was that very friend -- she just happened to be thinking of me, and wanted to connect; invite me up for a visit; invite herself down for a visit... We had a lovely conversation, and will be seeing each other within a month, I'm sure.
And as I started writing this, I found myself thinking of a line from that old book which came out about 20 years ago -- The Celestine Prophecy -- something about there are no coincidences. It's funny; I know that book was very New Age, but somehow it got passed around a bunch of us who were all starting up an Episcopal Church at the time, and for a while we were all really into it (and now, of course, I haven't thought of it in years.)
But I do love coincidences -- and there have been lots of them lately. Is it a coincidence that, even as my blog readership is going down, I'm getting lots of notes and comments from new readers? Is that to encourage me to stay with it? Is it a coincidence that, just as I'm exploring new ways of presenting my art, new opportunities for display came across my desk yesterday? (Thank you, Joanie!) Is it a coincidence that as school is drawing to a close people are starting to ask my professional advice about marketing and organizational behavior?
Maybe I'm just foolishly superstitious, but I prefer to see all these odd coincidences as gentle reminders that Someone Out There, or God, or The Universe -- however you want to describe that -- is keeping me company on this journey; that it's okay to stay on the path I'm on, even if I can't quite see where it's going; even if the earthly rewards for it seem pretty few and far between. It's enough to just keep going, keep staying open; support is there, surfacing when I need it, even when I least expect it.
I know. It's a sort of hopelessly romantic view of the world. But it's also the piece that makes me more Christian than Buddhist, I think: there's still, even after all these years, a faith, a deep conviction, that ultimately things will somehow be okay; that "all things work together for good to those who love God" (Romans 8:28)
Crazy, eh? And yet -- it doesn't seem to make me any less fearful. Funny, isn't it, that we can carry fear and confidence in the same heart; what curious creatures humans are...