In 2001, My very good friend taught me to “ask the Universe for what you want. Be specific, and ask that whatever it is, it is the best one for *you.*” So, I did as I stepped out the door of The Institution* into a new chapter. The crumbling Mercedes I’d been driving was barely good for parts; the garage offered $450 to put it out of it’s misery but I could not be without wheels. So, I quietly asked the Universe for a car. One that would be perfect for us – a single working mother and her even busier child. 12 years later we are on our second PT Cruiser (the first a lemon but no fault of my asking). It has been the perfect car for us.
In 13 years my asks have been few. I fear emptying the well with my requests so I have kept the asks to a bare minimum. Someone’s health, another’s healing, mending of a broken heart, money for oil/gas/food/a school activity, etc. Most of my asks have all been answered. I see this now this morning, my hair wrapped in an old towel covering muddy henna hair, the cat asleep on the table beside my typing, she’s napping on a ukulele case, the byproduct of another small, quiet ask – albeit a longstanding one.
A couple years ago I silently asked for a new guitar (or ukulele). The 30+ year old guitar from high school days had finally given up and breathed more mold than music. We sold it at the estate sale last month, and the household uke we had popped the bridge nearly taking out an eye. It was irreparable and we tossed it in the dustbin. Yesterday, a new friend, who makes and repairs guitars and other fine strummery, offered to sell me a barely used ukulele from his stash. Our conversation was quick, efficient, and most of all unforeseen. We exchanged tokens and I returned home last night, Martin uke in hand. I stayed up late teaching myself what I used to know, and feeling grateful for how everything eventually falls into place.
Journal entry, 17 April, 2014.