When the Universe Drops You on Your Head
"You're in such a bad mood. What's happened to you anyway? You had so much promise when you were younger, and we expected much, much more from you, didn't we, Lilly? Did your mom drop you on your head as a child?"
I'd driven into town this morning, planning a day at Wrightsville Beach. Halfway across Memorial Bridge, I spotted a dark thunderhead moving upriver toward downtown. Lightning bolts danced in the darkness, and I didn't like what I saw.
Do I take my chances with the weather at the beach? I asked myself. Or drive up Castle Street to have coffee with the regular crowd?
"Choose wisely," said the imaginary Princess Amy.
Moments later, I was parked in front of Vintage Values across the street from Luna Caffe, sprinting through the downpour with a scowl on my face. It must have been the frown that got Amy hot under the collar.
Coffee Shop Confessions
"My mother did drop me on my head as a child," I announced to no one in particular, "and it's not funny. Think what might have happened."
"Excuse me?" said Lilly, realizing she had a customer. "Did you say something? Are you having your regular drink?"
"Dropping you on your head is exactly what I'm thinking about," Amy continued, seemingly pleased with the thought of bashing my head on the floor. "And whatever might have happened did happen. Quantum fact!”
"Oh, shut up," I said.
"Excuse me?" said the barista.
"Oh, sorry, not you. I was momentarily lost in thought and didn't realize I spoke out loud."
It was another embarrassing moment, and I quickly turned and headed to the table where Island Irv waited with what looked suspiciously like a knowing smile.
The Islander's Wisdom
"I didn't expect to see you this morning," said the Islander.
"I didn't expect a freak rainstorm," I replied.
"You look as though you need to revisit your memorial sand dunes and give the Universe another piece of your mind,” he said. “After this surprise thunderstorm, you may need to get really tough. Show the universe you mean business.”
You may remember the recent post A Day of Reckoning, where I visited those memorial dunes and did my best to reprimand the Fate sisters, but my best wasn't good enough.
"You know, Irv,” I said, in a voice to let him know I meant business, “I want to believe all that guff about the Universe looking out for my best interests. I really do. But I've tried it, and it doesn't work for me."
"The universe has been taking care of you all your life," he said matter-of-factly.
"She's done a poor job of it," I countered.
"Are you completely loony?" he said. "Forget that—not a question. Of course, you're loony. Looney to the eyebrows, if I remember the full diagnosis."
The Parable of the Earwig
"Look, Genome, you're not a bad guy. I'd say most people like you—just in small doses. Right, Lilly?"
"Stop talking to her! You know she can't hear you."
"I heard him," said the barista from across the café.
"Oh, Lilly, I'm so sorry,” I said once again, “I've had a stressful morning, and I'm not quite myself."
“Don’t listen to him, Lilly, he’s always like this, and I have to put up with it every Sunday morning.”
"You've had a good life, Genome. Lilly and I enjoy hearing your stories. Remember how amused she was about you dancing in the aisles at the Andy Frasco concert? And consider this: Lilly and I are the last people anyone would expect to appreciate your antics."
"You see,” he continued, “all those wonderful things that happened to you over your lifetime occurred without your help; maybe despite your help.”
"Stop right there," I said. "I know what you're going to say, and I’m telling you, it was and still is random accidents. Nothing more."
"You don't know what I'm going to say," he said with a sly grin. "Consider the earwig on the lanai last week."
"How do you know about the earwig?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Never mind that,” he said, “That earwig is telling the story right now, and his friends are saying, 'You should be grateful that the Universe is taking care of you.' But that old earwig is having none of it. 'It's just random accidents,’ he’s saying. ‘I was lucky, that's all.’"
Irv paused for theatrical effect, then asked, "Now, I ask you, was it just an accident that earwig is still alive?"
"No," I admitted reluctantly. "He survived because of my intentional gift of kindness."
The Grand Theory
"Here's the deal, Genome—there's only one consciousness that provides guidance for us all. Our brains are tuned into it like a universal radio signal."
I didn't know how to respond to this surge of artificial intelligence coming from my old friend. He continued before I could say anything.
"It's a device people listen to for music and talk shows," he added helpfully.
"I know what a radio is," I said with considerable heat.
"Bottom line," said Irv, "the Universe has been looking out for you since you were fetal." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "There's a chance you may still be."
"You'd think," he said, settling back in his chair, "that just having Ms. Wonder share your life would be enough to convince a person that they've been given a special ride."
The Universe's Sense of Humor
As I sat there, watching the storm grow calm outside Luna Caffe's windows, I reflected on the morning's events. A thunderstorm redirected my beach plans, Princess Amy questioned my childhood head trauma, and Island Irv compared me to an earwig in a cosmic consciousness theory.
And yet, after all that, I turned up exactly where I needed to be: in a cozy cafĂ©, with good coffee, and a trusted friend. All things considered, I do feel cared for, even I'm still a bit “fetal”.