Fate is not for the faint-hearted. Sometimes we choose it; sometimes it chooses us. We all have a talent or capability that may lay dormant for years or never even see the light of day. The universe will sow the seeds of change throughout a large landscape of humanity and allow fate to show us ways to cultivate those fertile lands of cognitive opportunity. If you don’t act upon it, the seeds will take hold elsewhere, and your chances and choices in that moment will simply die on the vine. It’s neither cruel nor unfair; it’s life.
Many years ago, I was getting ready to board a flight heading to Los Angeles. It was one of many such trips I made for business back then; they had become as commonplace as a weekly jaunt to the market. As I made my way onto the plane and towards my appointed seat, I noticed a young woman occupying the middle seat in the same row. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I shimmied my way to the seat by the window and eventually immersed myself in a ritual I had for passing the time on a plane once we were airborne. It involved reviewing a manuscript of observations I had written over many years; a little pet project that helped me organize my thoughts. On this particular flight, I had a copy with me that I had fashioned into a small booklet for easier use within the restricted elbow space of an airplane seat. After a while, I noticed that this young woman (who I will call Mary) was straining to read the text over my shoulder. When she realized that I was aware of her curiosity, she quickly apologized and asked where I had gotten the booklet I was reading. I told her that I had written it and was merely reviewing its contents. Mary’s reaction was a cross between disbelief and peaceful resignation. But it wasn’t her reaction so much that piqued my interest; it was the story that followed.
She took a deep breath and went on to tell me about her life; a life touched by love, hope, betrayal and pain. It spoke of a young life that had been inextricably altered by a love gone horribly wrong. A series of experiences that culminated in her being bound to a wheelchair for life. Mary spoke about it all with a courage and acceptance that I found quite moving. But it’s what she said to me after sharing her story that haunts me till this day. She had been curious about my book because some of the thoughts she read had touched a chord deep within her. Thoughts that, had she read them all those years ago, may have provided her the strength and conviction needed to remove herself from the emotional spiral she had fallen into. Thoughts that, in her words, would have saved her from that wheelchair.
I truly didn’t know what to say; I found myself thanking her for sharing her moving story yet feeling terribly uneasy. Not because I felt uncomfortable by the personal nature of Mary’s experiences, but because I was overtaken by a strong sense of shame. I had been trapped in that cycle of “reviewing” my manuscript over the years, yet never bothered to send it out to publishers because I felt it wasn’t quite up for public consumption. Yet after hearing Mary’s story and seeing that resolute look on her face, I realized the truth of the matter – I did not want to face rejection. Instead, I chose to use that manuscript – that gift – as a way of masking my own feelings of self-doubt. The seeds of inspiration had been sown on my path all those years ago, yet I chose to let them languish in the hope of finding courage to help them grow someday. On that flight, at that given moment in time, courage was staring me right in the face. Mary was a living, breathing inspiration; a message from the universe to remind me – to remind us, all – that life gives each of us gifts that are rare and precious, and that their ownership and survivability are not mutually exclusive.
After the flight landed, Mary and I parted ways, never to see each other again. She was off to explore a new and promising chapter in her life, away from the self-fulfilling prophecies that had been compounded by a deleterious sense of hope. And those observations I had written – those passing thoughts – became a new mantra for Mary. A newly discovered affirmation fueled by the knowledge that her life experiences were not exclusively hers to endure, and their survivability were not exclusively mine to contemplate. There is power in human connectivity as there is power in forgiveness, understanding and love. All it took was a few words from a stranger on a plane to bridge the gap.
There is not a day that goes by when I don’t think about Mary’s story and of the powerful yet fleeting nature of inspiration. Each day brings with it a turning point; an opportunity to right a wrong, to save a heart, or to acknowledge a gift. And if you don’t act on it, that moment – that gift of inspiration or insight – will not die, it will simply find another receptive soul through which to fulfill its fate. In the end, life is neither wasteful nor cruel; it simply never forgives the sin of apathy.
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