Sometimes when my husband and I are on the road with the camper, we get looped around into a labyrinthine detour. Or we get stuck in a massive traffic jam. Or we get hopelessly lost. These things frustrate the bejeezus out of me but Frank always says, “Hey, that’s great! Because of this, I bet we missed being in an accident!”
I roll my eyes at him and put my head on the dashboard.
But there is something sweet about the idea that when things shift unexpectedly that some dreadful outcome was avoided. Of course, the dark underbelly of this approach is when something truly awful happens we can “what if” ourselves into madness. What if I had waited five minutes? What if I’d gone the other way?
While I truly appreciate Frank’s optimistic perspective, I don’t believe in guardian angels or divine intervention. At least, usually I don’t.
Every once in a while, though, I do something and I really, truly don’t know why I did it. (I’m not talking about habit or mindlessness or distraction. I’m not talking about pulling into the driveway and not remembering the drive. Although that happens, too.) Sometimes, I feel like I’m not at the wheel, like I’m not in charge, like something is nudging me in a particular direction and I don’t know why. And when that thing I’ve done lands me in a surprisingly fortunate spot I have to wonder: what in the actual world is going on?
This happened when I accepted a job in Charlottesville, Virginia, and I did not know why I did. I knew not a single person in Charlottesville. Or hell, in the state of Virginia. I had a job offer in Boston ... and I didn’t take it. I have no idea why. Even though at the time I thought I might have actually lost my mind, moving to Charlottesville shifted every aspect of my life for the better.
This strange not-at-the-wheel feeling happened last week.
Me hanging … back to the studio!
I was strength training in my studio using the hanging bar that’s installed in the bathroom door frame outside my studio. I've been using it for months. I hang on the bar and do tucks and swings and have a grand ol’ time. Every single time I use that bar, I orient myself with my back to the bathroom and face out into the studio. I mean, every. single. time.
This particular morning, my late and beloved Auntie Jane was on my mind. I have a special connection to her. We shared both mannerisms and temperment and her name is my middle name (my niece's, too). I was missing her and thinking that when she died, she wasn’t much older than I am now.
As I went to the hanging bar, I saw Auntie Jane’s two bunny prints on the bathroom wall and I had a strong impulse to hang facing the bathroom so I could see them while I did my last set.
I pulled myself onto the bar and … it slipped out of the frame, sending me crashing down hard, smacking my head smartly on the floor behind me.
But friends. I landed on a padded rug. I was rattled, for sure, but I was fine. If I had oriented the other way, with my back to the bathroom – like I had EVERY SINGLE TIME BEFORE -- I would have hit the back of my head on hard slate tile. I do not think I would have been fine.
After I checked all my parts and settled my nervous system, what really had me flustered was the miraculous coincidence of the fall. All day, as nuts as it sounds, I was teary and hugging myself and thanking Auntie for saving me.
Part of me knew perfectly well that this was a function of my brain looking to understand. Thinking Auntie’s Angel stopped me from getting hurt was just my meaning-making brain trying to make sense of the mishap. It was a coincidence, but my brain wanted it to add up.
What did Don Henley say?
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew
I’m learning again
If there is one thing that gets clearer the longer I live, it is that this life, this world is a mystery. The more I read and learn and experience, the more I see how little we really know about, well, anything. Honestly, these days, more often than not I do not understand what the hell is going on in this world, this life. All the goodness and ugliness, the love and cruelty: it make zero sense.
Auntie Jane circa 1982.
Maybe Auntie Jane was in the studio with me that day. Maybe my brain latched onto Auntie to make sense of a scary situation. Maybe my choice to get that rug behind me was simply a happy accident, a coincidental miracle. I honestly don’t know. It’s all mysterious to me.
And that’s what it is for me: more than guardian angels, divine intervention or even brain science, what I believe in is the mystery.
PS After writing this, I listened to the latest episode of Wiser Than Me with Julia Louis-Dreyfus. One of my favorite parts of the podcast is Julia sharing a personal essay before the interview and this week she wrote about the mystery (and then interviews Anne Lamott which is freaking glorious). Another happy coincidence!