Albert Markovski: The interconnection thing is definitely for real.
Tommy Corn: It is! I didn’t think it wasn’t! It is!
Albert Markovski: I know, I can’t believe it, it’s so fantastic!
Tommy Corn: It’s amazing!
Albert Markovski: I know.
Tommy Corn: But it’s also nothing special.
I met a young lady in the summer of 2005 in a class in San Diego. We had the same name; in a way. She was funny and audacious, and dead set on going to Germany by whatever means possible. This was, you will not be surprised to discover, related directly to a young man. I stayed in touch with this young lady as I entered into a very bizarre and mildly labyrinthine new chapter of my own life. Several months later, this young lady contacted me from Taiwan. She had decided that the reality as well as the rationale behind going to Germany were not meant to be, and so she had made a dramatic shift and come to Taiwan. This was fun for me, and for her I think it was acceptable. Less than a year later this young lady met a dashing young man in Taiwan. He was from Germany. She is now a happily married momma to a beautiful baby girl, living with her German husband… in Germany.
The Universe does indeed appear to work in mysterious ways.
I found someone on MySpace in 2004 through inroads I can no longer remember. I was unhappy in Reno. He was cute in Vegas. We kept in touch on and off for five years. Watching the ups and downs of our mutual lives with interest appreciation. In March of 2009 in an effort to impress someone entirely different I declared that I would go to Black Rock City in the fall of 2009. I said this out loud. I had no idea if it were true, intentional, or possible. The person I meant to impress turned out to be – unimpressive. And irrelevant. But still, I thought a lot about my declaration to go to the Playa. It would be difficult for myriad reasons. I spoke to my friend in Las Vegas who would be going. I went. I met my friend from Vegas for the first time, five years after we “met,” at Burning Man. It was epic.
The Universe has an appreciation for intention.
I met another friend from MySpace, in person, in the spring of 2006. He seemed like the life of the party. Gregarious to the max. Beware these signs for the future: everything was “his” – “his” friends, “his” stories, “his” experiences, “his” island, “his” city… What he had in charisma he lacked in sensitivity. He was so caught up in image – a true believer that image was real and paramount, regardless of what lay beneath. He was an expert on all things great and small, sometimes for real, and did not listen well. He exaggerated not only for effect but as a self-professed lifestyle. He adopted other people’s stories and called them his own. I am not sure when hyperbole becomes a lie, but the lines between what was real, and what was not, were smudged like old chalk drawings on a dingy sidewalk. He called Hong Kong “his.” Hong Kong asked him to leave.
The Universe is authentic.
I went to a birthday party for a friend in the spring of 2006. It was the vernal equinox and I was in the middle of a sprint from reality; untethered. I didn’t intend to go to the party, but I did anyhow. It was small and many espresso martinis were served. On returning to the island I intended to soon leave behind, I was ill-suited for sleep. I saw another friend holding court with a group of people I did not know. I stopped to talk with them. It was now 4 a.m. I talked with one of them until 7 a.m. We didn’t stop talking until one day he decided to talk exclusively with his White Nurse. By then everything was different. I had stopped running. I was back on the island I meant to leave, living in a home of which I had said aloud, in the fall of 2005, “I think I could live here.”
The Universe has an acute sense of irony.
I was walking through Times Square (the Hong Kong version) on a Thursday morning in July headed to the office and desperate for a change in circumstance. I looked up and saw a familiar face. At first I was uncertain of the face I was seeing; the context was off. This is a person to whom I had spoken maybe twice. He is someone I prefer to listen to and I feel like I have little to say in his presence. On this morning I stopped and we exchanged greetings and contact information. This was very out of character for me, as I generally remained silent in his presence. Three months later I was able to find him again because of that one chance encounter. Two months later he reminded me that it is always good to greet people with an open heart when you see them. And of course, he is correct. And my circumstances have been irrevocably changed.
The Universe provides.
A boy was given a horse on his 14th birthday. Everyone in his village said, ‘Oh how wonderful.’ But a Zen master who lived in the village said, ‘We shall see.’ The boy fell off the horse and broke his foot. Everyone in the village said, ‘Oh how awful.’ The Zen master said, ‘We shall see.’ The village was thrown into war and all the young men had to go to war. But, because of the broken foot, the boy stayed behind. Everyone said, ‘Oh, how wonderful.’ The Zen master said, ‘We shall see.’
The Universe knows more than us.