living in sync
 photo by Sophia Matuszewicz |
I can't help feeling envious of my eldest daughter's uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time. It's as if Sophia magically placed herself—decided to descend from the stars—in perfect sync with history.
A diehard Harry Potter fan, her thirteenth birthday just happened to coincide with the release of the sixth book and an unbelievable explosion of popularity. I'll never forget the historically unprecedented mass of fans lined up, lines out the doors, at the Tattered Cover Bookstore, waiting for the countdown at midnight.
That night Sophia just happened to be photographed by a Denver Post reporter and ended up on the front cover of the early edition of the Sunday paper and she received mention in a USA Today article (as well as my debut as Professor McGonagall).
Two years later, a Denver Post reporter tracked her down to interview her on her reflections in anticipation of the release of the seventh book. What are the chances? Weird. Fun, but a little weird.
And now, just as her attention has turned outward—her political awakening and idealism unfolding—she unexpectedly received an invitation and a ticket to attend the Obama inauguration from our neighbor and friend for whom she baby-sits. It's as if she's perfectly aligned with the evolving consciousness.
Of course, I make it sound like all of this happened effortlessly, but it did require some parental support. OK, well a lot of parental support. Was I really up for spending hours, dressed as a Harry Potter character, in a bookstore packed with HP fanatics sipping butterbeer while I kept watch over nine pre-adolescent girls? (Much less our friend who spent hours holding our place in line.)
I have this annoying tendency to leap at opportunity and think through all the details post humorously. And so when our friend let me know that Sophia could attend the inauguration, I felt an immediate surge of blood pressure. I knew Sophia would love it.
Carpe diem.
My husband, on the other hand, had a completely different reaction. You should have seen his face when I told him about the possibility it was as if I had just opened the freezer. Being in a crowd—a monstrous, suffocating mass of humanity—sounded completely unappealing to him, no matter how historical. A parental, responsible, how-exactly-is-this-all-going-to-happen monologue came next.
Pish-shaw.
But he kind of did have a point.
However, my husband was completely underestimating the earth-shaking force of our neighbor who is one of the most outgoing, generous and tenacious people I've met. She's incredibly unstoppable‹which is probably why she and Sophia didn't end up in the 10,000 people who had inauguration tickets but couldn't make it through the crowds into the actual event. If President Obama is still looking to fill cabinet positions, I think he'd better leave Pennsylvania Avenue and take a quick browse down Denver's Pennsylvania Street.
So Sophia took off on a US Airways flight (no large flocks of geese in sight) to our nation's capitol; her first trip to the East Coast. She merged with the 1.8 million people on the Washington mall and witnessed the inauguration first-hand as the world watched on. Somehow, I think she was meant to be there. I don't really know why.
But it got me to thinking about my own life. I've studied with a brilliant teacher and homeopath, Jeremy Sherr, who taught me that synchronicity exists in all of our lives. It's there, I just don't see it—that fine line between random coincidence and meaningful coincidence.
So even though Sophia's placement in history seems surprisingly blatant, for some of us, we just have to look a little more closely.
We're all exactly in the right place at the right time. I just forget.