I found a field in my new town today. It's a nice field: easy access, no "trespassers will be shot" signs. I love big fields. I sat in this one and destroyed page after page of notebook paper with my stupid ramblings. Unfortunately, although the field was beautiful, and smelled really good, and felt nice and homey, it was full of sharp things -- blackberries, thistles, bumblebees, and plenty of unidentifiable Washingtonian things -- and I noticed in the bathtub that my legs are cut to ribbons. But whatever. To be able to say, "I sat in a field and wrote today," it's worth it.
Went to the grocery store this evening to buy some eggs for a cake. On the way back, I found twenty dollars in the road. Twenty whole dollars. A twenty dollar bill. Shit, I'm happy as hell if I can find a dime in the road. But I think this is karmic money. It was waiting for me there.
About a week ago, I was in Seattle, waiting for Neil... I'd taken an early bus, and was sitting at our meeting spot watching the good people of the world go by... And this man sits down next to me... He had very dark features and what sounded to me like a Middle Eastern accent, but he had a passport, prominently displayed, from Canada. Had I been Jake, I would have suspected that he was a terrorist. The thought did briefly cross my mind, actually, but then I figured it didn't really matter one way or the other. What the hell would I do if he WERE a terrorist? Not in my control, and therefore nothing I'm going to worry about. In any case, the man asked me:
"Where is four-two-five?"
"Four-two-five what?" I asked, completely baffled.
He displayed a little scrap of paper with a phone number on it. Four-two-five was the area code.
"Ooooooohhhh! It's um... it's north of here!" I said, pointing sort of northish. "Well, north and east, I think."
The guy looked totally confused.
"Like... um... Redmond? I think? Everett? Those places are four-two-five."
"Redmond...?"
Yeah. North of here." I pointed again, toward the Space Needle.
"Oh. I see. You know where is a place for getting the phone cards?"
Well, yeah, I DID know a place for getting the phone cards... Somewhere on 2nd Ave., there's a convenience store run by some Korean people (I think they're Korean), and they sell the cheapest phone cards on the planet. But I didn't remember the intersection, and I could just imagine this poor man trying to converse, in his heavy accent, with the Korean people, who are, for all intents and purposes, English-free. I thought for a second.
"Well... there is this place on Second," I started, "...but... I have a phone card you can use...."
The man looked at me, and I couldn't tell if he was incredulous, or if he just didn't understand me. Maybe a little bit of both. I handed him my phone card. It was only a twenty minute card anyway, and I hadn't used it. My brother gave it to me. But who the hell am I gonna call for twenty minutes?
"I can... HAVE it?" asked the man.
"Yeah, yeah, sure..."
"I give you the money for it! You want money?"
"No, no... it's fine. You can just have it."
He thanked me profusely and went off in search of a payphone. About two minutes later, Neil showed up, and I forgot all about the Middle Eastern Canadian guy. And pretty much the rest of the world too.
Well... two days later, I found a phone card with twenty-FIVE minutes on it and eighty-eight cents.
I think karma has sped up somehow. And become much, much more obvious. Usually, it's subtle and it takes for-fucking-ever. Lately, it simply seems that I get back what I give. And, usually, a little bit more.
In the past couple of months, it's really seemed like I'm in tune with the rhythms of the world, and not just watching them. The karmic-phone-card thing is just an obvious example. Most of the rest of it is just a feeling. Not sure WHY, all of a sudden, things like this are happening, but it's nice...
Going to go spend some quality time with my new room-mates.
May you get what you deserve... :?)
~Helena*