Who Needs Excitement When There Is Synchronicity

Sometimes when a task has become familiar through repetition, it is difficult to be excited by it, no matter how much fun or benefit will come from completing the task.  That is where I  was a in the couple days prior to finally prepping and packing to drive on my solo road trip to the mid-west and back.
I made the decision to attend my 40th High School Class Reunion.  In and of itself, this would no longer be enough of a draw to get me to travel the almost 1900 miles to my town of birth from my home of the past 27 years.  But this trip is being made extra worthwhile as I meet my daughter in Chicago for four days of wedding planning fun after the HS reunion in Northern Indiana.
I wanted to make several other quick stops around Arizona and along the route.  Air travel, car rental, and hotel accommodations add up quickly.  This helped me inform my decision to drive there.  I enjoy driving.  I do my best thinking and can focus on planning and creating in a way that I cannot do when I am in my routine at home with cats, dog, turtle and husband and seemingly constant interruption and distraction.  I truly try to live in the moment, but have to make lists and plans even though the moment constantly teaches me that plans always change.

Eternity

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy

He who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise

                                                      – William Blake, 1757 – 1827

A beautiful lesson captured by a man born 200 years before me that still speaks as truthfully and as contemporary of a voice as the most erudite of 21st Century scholars and poets.

After spending the morning in a coffee house with good fair trade coffee and good wifi, I decided to grab a sandwich, something I have not been doing on the road.  I did this so I could proceed on to the library of my hometown and write a post or two.

Synchronicity pounces when we listen to others, to our inner voices, whims, and to the wind.

As I walked in, found a table, got the wifi secured, visited the ladies room, and walked through most of the library over the course of these tasks I spotted a familiar face.  It took a moment to realize I really did know her.  My 8th grade teacher.  A woman who was a pivotal nexus of encouraging words who found a way to see and bring forth goodness and potential in so many of her students through the years.  Frances Brown though she had a different name when she was my 8th grade teacher.  Without her encouraging guidance, I do not know where I would have ended up.  I am grateful.  She recited the Blake poem for me after hearing about my Women’s Legacy Project.