We are as closed and as boxed in as we want to be. Just one step away from one's desk, one step outside, one breath of pollen-saturated air, and the world changes. But that's where I've been, head down, treading water or time, or whatever it's called when you're doing things but waiting for The Greatness to arrive. I say that to Charlie, I call him and I say "I'm just waiting till this life starts" and then I realize that I'm in it and all is well and that there is no great catastrophe, and that summer has arrived without my even knowing, that the world goes on, and on, and on, despite my self-woven cocoon.
"You're never alone," he says, and he's right. I behave as if I am because I sometimes forget that the Universe is there, right next to me, within me, outside of me, all around, doing its thing, making sure everything comes true, and right, the way it's meant to. "Believe in the universe" I tell everyone "and its power to open doors for you; it will conspire to help you" but then I see my head down, focused on my keyboard, my clients, my feet, the floor. And then, yesterday, I looked up and the sunlight was in the eucalyptus tree about my desk, through the skylight, and it was a moment of magic. There are signs everywhere.