You know you do it, I do it, we all do it. At the end of that usually way too oily Chinese dinner , we get that sealed fortune cookie, on the brown tray with the bill we cannot read. Even if you don’t like the fortune cookie, you know you look forward to cracking it open to find that message along with the your lucky red, lotto numbers on the back. I wonder if anyone ever goes to the casino with that little slip of paper, in search of their fortune? We all read them aloud to each other, and secretly hope that ours are right the one for us. If they are not we just assume they grabbed first, but it was really meant for us. I have even saved them in my wallet until they disintegrate into lucky dust. I had dinner with a man recently who was most self-centered and only spoke about himself. When he cracked open his fortune cookie, it was empty. I had to laugh and told him maybe it was a sign? I also then acted codependently and gave him mine. I am fascinated by how much stock we put in these dry little cookies that are made out of God knows what?
If we are that impressionable about what this bit of hope predicts, then why don’t we do that everyday? Why save this little custom for Chinese dessert? Why not keep a jar in your home and everyday pick one out before you leave? These cookies could be filled with inspiration and encourage kindness for yourself and the planet. If we are so easily coached and motivated by a cookie, it would be great if we could use these little treats more often for a higher purpose. That being said, if I could give you all a fortune cookie it would say, “if all you ever do is become the best version of yourself that you can, then you have succeeded.” By the way, I recommend #28, tofu with veggies.
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As I was attempting to get my van windows clean this morning, I was hard to differentiate which spots were on the inside and which were on the outside. As I continued in this pursuit of perfection, it occurred to me that is also how we see the world, and those in it. We can only see through our own spots, streaks, stories and wounds. When something really bothers you about someone, there is good information in there. I have long hated that saying, “if you spot it you got it,” and my ego will try to analyze that away. This is not to say when I see horrific acts of cruelty and violence that I am too like that to others, but have I ever been that way to myself? Yes, I have in fact been less than loving to myself at times. I am referring more so to when we have an ongoing annoyance with someone. Do we in fact own a bit of the same story? For instance, when my daughter comes home from school, I often ask her right away to do her chores. I see used drinking glasses, and plates in her room, and it irritates me to no end. Do I have coffee cups, and left over plates in my office sometimes? I absolutely do. This attempt to rectify behavior in others when we in fact have it, seems to be have gone on since the earth’s crust cooled. We have long tried to get others to see it our way, and that dance will continue until the sun burns out. My duaghter taught me a great lesson when she was about three years old. I picked out an adorable outfit for her, but was met with great resistance. I was in disbelief, I mean how could any little girl not think this was a precious outfit? After several failed attempts at convincing her to put it on, she placed her hands on her tiny hips and looked up at me with complete conviction and said, “Mommy, everybody has their own certain ways.” No truer words were ever spoken. So I will spend more time trying to clean my own metaphoric windshield, so that I might see less imperfection in others. Now where is that mental mirco fiber cloth?
It has been two weeks today, since I got the text that Robin Williams died. I stared in disbelief at my phone, thinking certainly it was a hoax, the same kind that promises me I will make a dollar from Bill Gates every time I share a message on Facebook. The reality finally seeped into all my conscious crevices, like a cold rain. The year I started comedy, I watched Robin Williams dazzle a sold out house at the Metropolitan Opera House, and I wept. I thought “what would it feel like to have that many people love you like that?” I do so hope he really knew the answer to that.