So Many Coincidences, Intricacies, Levels of Touch

I read a book, a long time ago, The Celestine Prophecy, I think I bought it with prize money from school for English or Journalism that should have bought a pulitzer winner or literary classic to get presented with at assembly. But I bought a hippie book instead. And a very cute Anne Geddes calendar. Yeah that didn't go down so good.

The basic premise behind this book is that we have these 'chance' meetings with people, that are anything but chance. Fate is an omnipotent force in all of our lives, and chance encounters, subtle patterns in our seemingly mundane existences, they are like sign posts telling us 'THIS WAY'. That person you keep bumping into, that person or place you're drawn to, you're meant to talk to them, find out their story, learn from them, in some way touch and enrich each other's lives. Well admittedly, it was a long time ago that I read it. But the basic concept still strikes me every now and again.

Tonight was one of those times. I was at the Occidental again (yes, very bourgeois, but so was the dessert party, so what!) with the Red Head (who I have my own theory about, way too many coincidences, I just sense that when I'm with her things are bound to happen, and she hugs me on the side of the road at the end of each evening, like we're long lost soul mates, which perhaps we are, instead of people who have spent just a few short hours together) and that almost-50 year old man who I decided last time I was destined to charm although at that stage I was unsure why. I discovered this evening that he just happens to be in the exact line of work I've decided could be a bit of me. And apparently last time when I didn't go for a drink afterwards he was talking to the Red Head about positions available at his work that he would have to mention to me. I had a great talk with him tonight, and I might just have to email him to learn more. But it was the strangest thing, before I knew all this, the energy drawing me to him, and the fact I could sense it was reciprocated, like he found me in someway attractive (and I in no way mean this in the orthodox sense of the word). Just this kind of openness, interest, yes I can't find a better word - attraction. Curious.

I walked home tonight in the rain with my hood back and my palms upturned and my tongue out, and blew huge jets of warm breath in a straight line out in front of me, amazed by the heat my body was generating even in the winter air. I grinned maniacally at the old man sweeping up his cafe on The Terrace with his Latino music blaring away the last corporate dregs of the day. He looked up at me again and then again, and although his expression was shadowed, I could sense an "is she smiling at me?" emanating from him. I took the stairs up the hill two at a time. I found the fuzzy lichen on the damp wooden fence along the alley that cuts across to my street to be unspeakably gorgeous in the rain-refracted twilight. The boutiquey shop fronts that line the street over which my little house perches were strangely, seductively colourful and vibrant in the mist and streetlight. As I burst up my path at about 9pm to take the rubbish down to the road I suddenly felt like I could suck life up through a straw.

It was Dad's 52nd birthday today, Lou has a new job and apartment lined up in
Auckland (and a blog) and Jacob has the chicken pox. More on all that later....