Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Thank you for clicking, thank you for listening. Have you ever made a wish and had it come true? Like magic? All you did was ask, and you did nothing to set events in motion. Today on Musing Interruptus, It’s Cosmic, Baby…
Sometimes not getting what we wish for is a blessing in disguise, that means that what we wanted was not going to be in the best interest of all involved. In that case, maturity brings acceptance without resistance. Other times, things do happen. I’m going to talk about those things that happen today. When you make a wish on a shooting star or unicorn. Hopefully, it isn’t a horse with a pointy horn tied to its head. That happens too… Although to be clear, I don’t think making a wish on a unicorn is thing, but it might catch on.
There is a state of being in which the soul is open enough that energy rushes to meet other energy, and communion happens. I reject this notion as much as I believe in it, which poses a conundrum of sorts. A paradox, a hypocrisy, a revolution, a madness. And yet, unexplainable occurrences, connections, images, and sometimes premonitions occur. Knowing when someone is thinking of you, having an image of someone in distress and later confirming it, wishing someone would come back into our life after an absence of decades, and it happening, being in the right place at the right time. It could all just be coincidence.
Mothers are particularly good at these connections and feelings. Knowing when something is wrong. Although I have thought that it might be that they always think something is wrong and when something bad does happen, there is a sense of confirmation.  Let’s put a pin in that thought for now.
I love calling up friends who say they were thinking about me even before they say hello. As if it were something cosmic that led us to that very moment. About two months ago, I was heartbroken remembering a dear friend from my childhood and adolescence. I remember feeling cared for and protected by my friend. He was kind, funny, and very self-assured. More importantly, he was my friend. As it happens with life, we said goodbye one afternoon, not knowing it would be the last time, for a long time. Maybe 17 years. This year I was remembering him, the music he brought to our lives, the laughter, and the simplicity of our friendship.  As we drove through the desert in the early hours of Sunday morning, I told my husband the story of my friend and how much I missed him and the fun we had on any given Friday, we just needed a guitar and young voices. Those Fridays had come to an end and not evolved into brunch with the families or Saturday dinners chased with guitars and nostalgic rock anthems. I think Heroes del Silencio was playing and that was enough for the nostalgia to become a few tears and for my heart to shoot out a care bare slash bat-signal and I sang through the desert in a white car, rushing the pavement and racing the wind. Continue Reading

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