what you wish for

I'm still here. Still doing pages. I'm trying to ramp up my spiritual practice. To that end, I'm focusing on kicking the self-harm. Trying to kick has tended to make it worse, but I'm sticking to the effort and refusing to halt progress by beating myself up for slips. No action on the creative/musical front, but I got some GREAT support in response to my last post, and I am taking it to heart. Thank you. Actually, for the last few days I've been mostly sitting at the computer solving Sudoku puzzles for hours at a time. Escape!

Well. To get to the point: There's a hilarious little synchronicity going on in my life right now that I had to share. First, a little background. I don't pay much attention to popular culture except when I happen to take interest in something that's popular (which doesn't seem to happen very often), and I don't get excited about celebrities. When I sang at the Academy Awards a couple of years ago, I cringed a little to see other members of my group getting autographs and pictures from famous folks who were also involved in our segment. It's just not my thing. They're just people, right? I'm inclined to leave them alone. I sure wouldn't want to be asked to grin for photos with strangers every twenty minutes. And don't get me started on the famous-for-being-famous thing. Ew!

So, yeah - celebrities schmelebrities. However. There is one famous actor, someone you all know, who I like. I like him... a lot. I love all his work. He chooses excellent and interesting projects, and he always steals the show - never the same character twice. (Some of you might know who I'm talking about. I'm not including his name because I don't want it to get googled here.) I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I've gone through phases where I have chosen to kill way too much time reading about this actor on the internet, and he even seems like a nice guy. Oh and yeah he's unbelievably attractive.

Him I had my eyes peeled for that weekend in L.A. He was staying at the same hotel - someone else in my group rode the elevator with him and a couple of his handlers - but I missed seeing him. He wasn't even in the audience when we were singing; he was cued up backstage, getting ready to present next or something. Ah, well. Probably better not even to have had the opportunity to risk making an ass of myself and abandoning my no-paw celebrity rule.

Well guess what. He seems to have bought a home fifteen minutes from here. This story is still unconfirmed, though of course I know someone who knows someone who knows a FedEx driver who delivered a package. I just also know better than to believe it all the way at this stage. Still... it's possible.

I find this hilarious and synchronicitous because it's just another call to step up, to be my best self, to emerge from the cave. I can have whatever I want, whatever I ask for in earnest. Nothing is out of reach. Anything I turn my attention to will end up in my field of experience eventually. No, I don't expect to become his pal or even to meet him. But who cares! Isn't it just interesting to think about how possible things can be? I mean, I live in Nowheresville, New England. What are the odds? Even if it's just a rumor, there is a message for me in this.
("Never tell me the odds!" --Harrison Ford as Han Solo)