The Direction of Intention

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I call them universal dope slaps. I do not mean a dope slap that applies equally to everyone. I’m talking about a dope slap delivered by the universe – a specific slap for a specific action. Sometimes they are gentle. Sometimes they are abrupt. I had two this week from opposite ends of the dope slap spectrum. In fact, I’ve had two in the past two days.

I’ve gone months without a single slap and suddenly two in a row. And, the gas-door-mystery-problem continues; something is up! Yesterday I took an early morning walk. Sometimes when I walk I fall into deep thought and I lose all track of place, space, and time. It is my version of Alice down the rabbit hole. I am like a little kid following all the shiny objects in my mind. When I came back to this world, I was on the walkway at Alki beach. There are wonderful barnacle encrusted concrete stairs that lead down to the beach. At high tide the lower steps are underwater. The birds are migrating and what brought me back was a noisy flock of black and white ducks, an entire squadron coming in for a landing just beyond the steps. I ran down to the lowest step and looked over the concrete wall to get a better glimpse just as a rogue wave hit the seawall. The wall of water that washed over me was prodigious. It filled my coffee cup to the brim. Water dripped from the tip of my nose. “Wake up!” said the universe as the duck squadron cluck-chuckled at my drenching.

This morning as I walked I was once again chasing shiny mind matter. This time I was deep, way beyond the Queen of Hearts, into unexplored Wonder-territory. It was the flutter of wings that brought me back. Gentle and quiet, I was being accompanied by the neighborhood pack of pigeons. They fluttered around me, forming a circle, and as I moved to the circle’s edge, they would lift off, and flutter into a new circle formation around me. I’m certain they thought I had snacks. They were with me for several hundred feet. I was enjoying our walk, fully engrossed in the pleasure of wings cleaning the space around me, eyes up, which is how I missed to the obvious trip-able branch stretching across my path. Charlie Chaplin would have appreciated my prat-fall; it was glorious, keystone cop-ish. “Wake up!” chuckled the universe as the pigeons chortled and took to the sky.
“I’m awake!” I announced to no one in particular. “So am I!” said the old woman sitting on the bench behind me. A double-dope-slap!

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