Remember the plot of Serendipity? The John Cusack movie where he meets the gal and she writes her phone number in a copy of this book that will be sold the next day, leaving it to fate whether or not they will meet again and ultimately be together? And then Fate, after keeping us on our toes while Shit Happens for a solid amount of movie minutes, torturing us with angst at the stupidity of these youngsters having thrown away a chance for that kindred spirit soulful kind of love, eventually delivers?
Well the book in which our leading lady jots down her number before tossing it to the fates is Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera, and I have been thinking about that book for the last week, because, well, I help with love, and we are kind of in the time of cholera right now. And this weird little thing happened last night when I was chatting with my sister and told her I was about to blog, and I was thinking in me wee head that I was going to entitle this blog after the book. Without telling her a word, a hot one second after seeing the title in my mind, she blurts out “You should call it Love in the Time of Cholera”. Freaky, right? And then she reminded me that it was in fact the book from Serendipity, which I did not remember, but I had been talking about serendipity already. So that was serendipitous. And also synchronistic.
Serendipity is the unfolding of fortunate events that were ‘unsought after’, or brought about by chance. The idea in the film, is that chance is orchestrated (an oxymoron) by the Universe, and that if Sarah and John are meant to be, if they are Universe-endorsed as a couple, then they will be lead back together by the fortunate unfolding of events in their favour while they are busy doing other un-suspect movie worthy activities like setting about marrying other people. I mean I am pretty sure that as an audience we are all rooting for the unfolding. We want to see “fate” in action, meaning we want to believe that there is a divine hand being played in our favour, weaving the seemingly random events of our lives to bring us Love, or benevolence, or meaning. We need a “Grand Plan” as an opposing team for “Shit Happens”, so that even though most of us cannot deny that “Shit Happens” and has a place on the score board, we are rooting for the “Grand Plan” to win the game.
To be a Literal Larry, my sister’s psychic thought about my title was actually synchronistic, and that may as well have been a better title for the theme of the film, because it isn’t chance that favours our leading couple and their union, there is actually a greater meaning behind the events that unfold orchestrated by the Universe, which SEEM to be by chance. Synchronicity refers to coincidence by Universal design. Adorable John and pretty quirky Sarah are “meant” to be together and their “trust” in the divine order to line it all up already (pass the M & M’s) is rewarded.
So “Grand Plan” versus “Shit Happens”.
Cynics will poo poo our magical movies, but we all have a good story in there, don’t we? A magical feel fucking good story, that lights us up and ramps up our willingness to believe and to hope. Those stories sell for a good reason.
We need hope. Yes we do. Do we need it now more than ever? Yes we do. Does it makes sense to have hope, now more than ever? Yes it does.
Hope is a bridge to truth and a pathway to choice which is the home of power.
And here is the thing, those cynics among us who choose “Shit Happens” as their team do so because they are in pain, and they are afraid that pain will be the winner, and so hope becomes a dangerous game in their minds, because Shit is always going to well, shit on it. Or as Eddie Izzard puts it “Hopes are dashed”.
The Grand Plan is not using Shit to teach us to deserve its benevolence. That is not the nature of benevolence. Shit is its own device, a manifestation of pain and suffering that recycles itself in an infinite feedback loop, until we stop laying down in defeat at its feet. When we choose to side or team up with The Grand Plan, we leave Shit to its own devices.
Now when “Shit Happens” is actual DEATH on a large scale across the world, well no one is applauding that or asking for more butter on the popcorn please. But I am here right now today to share with you my secret, that Grand Plan is right on it, spinning this shitstorm in our favour. It’s planting clues and hiding eggs and wielding basic love language that we consider magic. I have always been a “sucker” for magic, but I have always known that it’s not an elusive power or a false promise, or a tiny sprinkle of pixie dust that we’d better use scarcely, it is MERELY the absence of SHIT –and that the same inner cynic that chides us for believing, is the very one who is shaking in fear and has given up its power. And when we are not hanging out with that cynic and the other bad ass kids at the 7-11, well we feel pretty MAGICAL.
Grand Plan’s very purpose is to wake us up and lead us out of harm’s way. To gently shake us awake so that we REMEMBER that we can CHOOSE our side. Eventually we are all going to choose our way out of the dark side, out of Shit, anyhow, because Love will always win over Fear, and you know what?
RIGHT NOW WE HAVE A HEAD START.
Because the currency of Shit is pain, and pain needs separation to exist. And right now in this global isolation, we are no longer acting as separate. We are no longer seeing ourselves as separate parts. We are moving as one. And so the currency of pain is dropping like oil prices.
Which brings me back to our LOVE STORY (audience warning for my beloved friend who is anti-romantic, you’ll want to steady your gag reflex).
Our structures have been torn down right now. And while that wreaks some emotional havoc for us, we all need to know that Grand Plan works for each of us and is leading us all and each, through an escape plan from our suffering, into our greatest good. And romantic love plays a part in that.
We are OPEN in a way we haven’t been in a long time.
So while I don’t recommend we make rash decisions, or break any of our pandemic rules, I do recommend that we let a little sun shine in. Place your heart in the hand of the Grand Plan, and let it lead you along, show you where the warmth is, scatter some signs. Let’s hang on to our Easter baskets kids, and do some treasure hunting. Covid may be a tough school mistress, with her six foot ruler, and her restrictive curfews, but when in history has that ever stopped us? The heart is a mistress of invention.
In the Garcia Marquez story, Love can play the disease itself, striking us invisibly with haunting emotion that is dangerous because it consumes us and makes us feel bat shit crazy (you’re welcome). Or it can play the hero, who tirelessly conspires with its mystical magical ways to bring together our leading couple at long last, late in their lives, against all of the Shit that has happened and all of the hapless happenstance, and satisfies the heart.
That’s an ending we can all get on board with.
— Love Erin
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