corsets & synchronicity pt 2

Last night after soup-goodness and kind words from many of you, I feel less shaky and realize what I want next is a turmeric smoothie and connection. I walk into the parking lot toward my well-functioning but bumper-fked-up vehicle. A car pulls up across from me, window rolled down. A man with a groomed goatee, forearms that ripple just right and a warm twinkle in his eyes asks me in a quiet voice something about marriage. "What's that?" I say, though I'm pretty sure I heard him. He fumbles his way through various iterations of "Do you want to get married?" They start more personal - Do I want to marry him, and end up by the third or fourth try more like Do I believe in marriage. I'm amused - this is the second marriage proposal as conversation-starter I've received from a car window in the past ten days. Almost three decades of walking in the world with curves and joy has me well-accustomed to stopping traffic, though three years on the west coast has me expect it a bit less here than when east or outside the U.S.

Rooting in my resolution to embrace synchronicity, I respond to him with a head-shake and a no wrapped in a smile that welcomes him to say more if he wants. Next comes the request for my number. No thanks, I say, but it's a sweet evening and if there's nowhere you need to be, I'm happy to talk with for a few right here right now. Fast forward 40 minutes ... fun conversation, spiritual focus, uncanny intuition ... he's saying super-specific sht that is just what I have been talking about in recent days. Eventually I'm done and gather my keys up and say goodnight. As I walk away he says - apropo nothing we've spoken of - "Let me wash your car." I double-take. It's dark and even the outline of my car is barely visible, but the dust on it is years thick - and I who never think to wash my car had just this week realized it's well beyond time. I respond to him that my car does really need a wash but I'm not sure if it should be washed with the bumper hanging off and a busted light. What happened to it, he asks? I tell him. I can likely fix all that easy, he says.

Part of my intention in staying local is to embrace the magic of transformative community wherever I am. OK, I say, come take a look. He walks over, takes stock of my car and proceeds to unpack the shamanic significance - his words - of the specific lines in the bumper break. He speaks of harnessing the energy of the accident, sealing it up and recognizing it as a blessing for my life. We weren't talking in this language earlier, and somehow while he's saying this now, none of it comes out even the slightest bit woo woo, just as an entirely on-point gift.

I arrive home last night shaking my head, smiling, grateful and a bit bewildered at the goodness in so many places I hadn't expected to find it.

Am I going to lean into Geico - my claims rep was empathic, patient and focused like she was ready to be my new best friend - or a repair from the quirky-shy bold guy offering everything from marriage to a car wash - and many things in between - from his car window?

There's no distinction, really, and a third way may yet emerge this new day. Goddess is showing herself clear in every option. It's just a matter of me attentive enough to perceive, and choosing to stretch past boxes into possibility. I see Her shining sweet and strong. I'm ready to rock these rose-colored goggles til they become my second skin.

Taya Shere