The Tale of The Golden Tickets

I’ve mentioned my tendency toward a mystical take on life. I’m not kidding. I feel as if I observe and/or experience occurrences all the time that some people would call coincidence. I think of them as evidence of the cohesion of existence, hence my use of the word mystical. The Merriam-Webster defines mystical as  “having an import, spiritual meaning or reality not apparent to the senses nor obvious to the intelligence” and that cohesion, the connection and unity of things that I sense is consistent with the definition.  I want to share a story that is a good example of the point.

A very good friend of mine came to visit me here in the DC area last week. This is a friend who has been nothing but supportive of my writing aspirations and my move to this area. (Thank you Anne!) I’d do anything for her and it was important to me that she had a good time. Our plan was to go to the inauguration but I’m new here and I don’t know anyone in government so when I say, “go to the inauguration” I mean we were going to walk the periphery and look at the backs of spectators heads. Honestly, we were both fine with the plan because we thought just being present for the first African American president being swore in to his second term was amazing in and of itself.

The Ticket

We found a nice little restaurant for dinner the night before but with so many people in town the wait was long. We had decided it was too long but just as we were about to leave, we were called to our table. We got comfortable and then talked and ate and laughed. One of the two women seated next to us said she thought she and her friend should be as relaxed as we were. She said they were stressed because they had been rushing all day getting ready to go to the inauguration. That led to excited chitty chat between the four of us about the POTUS, FLOTUS and all the hubbub around town. Here comes the mystical part. When we said we didn’t have tickets to anything the women offered us two “extras” they had. What? Anne and I were stunned. They were strangers. Who does that? We pointed out how generous it was and their attitude was we needed tickets and they had extras consequently it was meant to be. So basically, my wonderful friend and I wanted to be cheerleaders at President Obama’s historic inauguration and tickets to the swearing in on the National Mall (standing room) just appeared on our dinner table because it was meant to be.

Without hesitation I would say that our experience had an import, spiritual meaning or reality not apparent to the senses. We had a fabulous time at the inauguration and I’m constantly amazed that somehow, one way or another, pieces always fit together.

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Author: Kat

African American, female, everyday philosopher.

2 thoughts on “The Tale of The Golden Tickets”

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