Once Upon a Cab
March 20, 2007
I leave you peace, my peace I give you. I do not give it to you as the world does. So do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. John 14:27
When I lived in New York one summer, I had walked down to the Kmart that was near NYU. After I was done purchasing a tiny little suitcase (I was going to DC), I tried to walk outside, but it was pouring rain. I managed to grab a cab. During the ride back to my dormitory, the cabby asked me what I did for a living, if I was a student, etc. I told him I worked in public relations. He asked me my birthday and I told him. He told me that according to numerology, I was a 9 and I should live my life and be an example, that I should never do drugs or anything illegal (I never would, of course).
I live in Washington now, but I thought about that cab ride as I rode the bus home to my apartment. I kept looking at the sky, the tree branches, the sidewalks, the dogs on their walk with their owners. I thought, “Now now now now now.”
I’m thinking of Joseph Campbell now and how the guru he visited in Trivendrum told him that he should always say yes to life. I thought about Baudrillard and how he seemed a really unhappy person, but he gave us this idea or concept of “hyper-reality.” I thought about the exceptional gift my parents gave me without knowing it, the gift of separation while we were rounding Mass Ave. on the bus. I think about Lao-Tzu for the third time today and about Jesus. I think about the Arabic term “Inshallah” and I think about the cross. I think about not thinking. I think about what is meant by God’s will. I think about what is meant by God.
I feel at peace with all of these things.
