Dear friends,
Manifestation.
It’s a concept we’ve been slow to accept. We’re more comfortable with the idea of Providence. Our Protestant upbringing allows for it. The gentle protection of the universe, the arrival of things in the nick of time. This is our speed. It doesn’t contrast too horribly with our rational minds to think that something, somewhere might be watching out for us. The idea of Providence keeps us out of the centre of things, and leaves power in the hands of some other, greater force, whatever it may be. The idea that we might hold some kind of power over the world around us with the power of our minds? That’s a little creepy, in our opinion.
However, this past week, at the suggestion of a colleague, we tried a little manifestation. What could it hurt? We wanted books. We wanted to buy books. We wanted our New Arrivals email to be stuffed to the gills with beautiful titles. Our colleague assured us that it would be okay to just “ask the universe for some.” No need to buy-in all the way. Just a small sample size taste of manifestation might do the trick.
So we did it. We asked. A day later sixteen boxes of books walked through the door.
This seemingly supernatural occurrence had the potential to shake us to our cores, but the part of our brains that allows the world to function sequentially, with the traditional and ancient notion of chance, remained intact. We looked at the boxes and thought, Naaaaaaaah. No way.
Then another 10 boxes arrived. Then 13 bags. Then another 12 banana boxes. We turned to our colleague and asked, “Okay, if manifestation works, then how do you control the AMOUNT of manifestation?” She replied with something with which we could whole-heartedly agree.
“The gods have a sense of humour.”
Indeed. Absolutely. Without a doubt.
This isn’t the first time our old-timey sense of the order of things has been challenged. A week before we got married, we needed a miracle to happen. Not a miracle in the sense that the laws of physics needed to be challenged; just a miracle in the “there’s no way this can happen” sort of way. So, we prayed. We held a miracle that Vanessa had bought Catholic shrine, hands clasped together, and turned our eyes towards heaven and I swear on all that is holy the power in our apartment went out. The room went dark. A moment later, the lights came back on, and we looked at each other in disbelief.
Five days later, the miracle happened. That was pretty convincing.
Again, the parts of our brains that observe the hum-drum-this -and-that of things didn’t want to comply with the idea of some kind of unseen force impacting our lives, but it did give us pause.
We did wonder.
There was also the time that our otherwise healthy canary dropped dead in its cage the day before our bookshop was to open, but that’s a supernatural logic even we have trouble sequencing. Was it, like the death card in tarot, a sign of new beginnings? Was it an omen of the many troubles to come? Was it evidence that we didn’t take care of our canary? The point is that even we, a pair near-heathen reprobates, sense that there might be some kind of narrative at play. Call it fate. Call it karma. A story being told that we are simply not aware of. We’re not going to form new personalities or align with far-flung political ideologies or join a cult over this understanding. We simply let it be. We observe and, at times, wonder.
We wonder what bloody mystery will meet us today?
Last week it was the books. There are still more coming. Today we got three phone calls for collections and, by Zeus, we answered.
Much love,
Jason & Vanessa
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