C'mon Inner Peace… I Don't Have All Damn Day
There was a time when everything had meaning, the Universe magically handed me advice through interpretive signs. Life for me was like a happy little fairy-tale. I floated throughout the planet as if I were Glenda the Good Witch; it was my own personal destiny to spread love and cheer.
But then, “Florida” happened.
I’ve spent the better part of a decade resenting the fact that I live on exile Island. Surrounded by my political and religious opposites, making quality friends has been difficult, to say the least.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and although I no longer believe in this magical force thrusting us in the direction of our destiny, sometimes a thunderbolt of insight can make us sit up and take notice.
Buddhaful Britt keeps growing, and while I am happy to be in a position to help so many, I’ve recently come to realize just how vast my reach is. On a weekly basis I may be contacted by as many as 15 women who have just begun their intercultural journey with a South Asian/ Indian man.
It’s typically the same exact story, over and over, “his family won’t accept me,” or “I think he is leaving me for an arranged marriage.”
But… this article is not about that.
One day, I read an Instagram message from a lovely woman who met her Indian guy while living in Dubai. His father approves of her, and other than a few skeptical Americans their relationship seems to be moving forward properly; she just wanted to tell me “thank you,” for my blog. We chatted a bit, and that was that.
A few weeks later I received another message from her, although this one had a completely different tone. She had only recently returned from Dubai and was making her rounds of a few local neighborhood bars in New York City. In recanting her journey, somehow my blog became the topic of conversation when the man sitting across the table overheard her.
After a few questions back and forth, the man whipped out his phone and showed her a picture of his son. My son. The man who overheard her is my sons father, at a bar, in New York City… We live in Florida.
This is far from the first time a mathematically impossible coincidence has blown my mind.
Once, a childhood boyfriend of mine spent the summer in Chicago, we lived in New Jersey. I was at a concert in Tampa Florida when I met a guy who was the cousin of the girl my boyfriend had been cheating on me with, all summer.
He had beautiful photos of my boyfriend and his cousin back in Chicago, all snuggled up. This “coincidence” was the exact evidence I needed to make that final break and change my future. I moved to New York City and never looked back.
Another crazy, mathematically impossible coincidence?
One crisp autumn morning I had this very strong desire to go to our local flea market here in Florida. We parked the car, and the VERY FIRST stand in front of us, was a guy selling used licence plates. Somehow I took notice of one from New Jersey (where I grew up). As I walked around the flea market with an eery feeling the numbers on the plate were familiar, I somehow realized, the plate was from my fathers car… during the 1970’s.
We went back and purchased the plate. I came home, and found a photo from the 70’s of my father standing in front of his car with this exact same plate. 40 years, and 1,000 miles away! I just so happened to walk into the market at the exact time that particular plate was displayed in front of his old box?
So, I’m left wondering what this recent “coincidence” means?
I’d love to believe all these years I thought I was on the wrong path, turns out better than my wildest dreams. I like to think that maybe my decade-long detour is coming to an end… armed with life-lessons, a degree, a career, and a whole lot of stories to tell.
Realistically though, my journalistic rational-side says that my blog has grown… and this is just the natural progression. I’m humbled if that’s the simple truth.
But, deep down there is still this mystical wonderment one can’t help but feel when an ordinary day, turns out to be anything but ordinary.
For More Articles from Buddhaful Britt:
Your Boyfriend is from India? pt 1 —> HERE
Your Boyfriend is from India? pt 2 —> HERE
Culture Shock: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly —> HERE
Jersey Girl and the Sikh—> HERE
My Indian Boyfriend pt 1—>HERE
My Big Fat Sikh Wedding: Prelude —> HERE
My Big Fat Sikh Wedding: Showtime —> HERE
My Big Fat Sikh Wedding: Indian Astrology —> HERE
My Big Fat Sikh Wedding: The Dress —> HERE
Surviving Long Distance Love—> HERE
Open Letter to my Husband—> HERE
Our Story, Retold —> HERE
Culture Shock: What to Expect?-–> HERE
Culture Shock: Six Months in America —> HERE
Culture Shock: Manny’s First Christmas —> HERE
Culture Shock: The First Year—> HERE
Our Honeymoon: Rishikesh India—> HERE
K1 Fiance Visa: The Process—> HERE
K1 Fiance Visa: The Inteview —> HERE
Cr1 Spousal Visa: The Timeline —> HERE
Cr1 Spousal Visa: Interview Questions —>HERE
A Journey to: New Delhi—> HERE
A Journey to: Jaipur India —> HERE
A Journey to: Dubai UAE —> HERE
Our First Diwali—> HERE
Giving Thanks, Shukryia —> HERE
Being Sikh in America—> HERE
The Indian Grocery: Natural Products—> HERE
A Path to Happiness—> HERE
True Love Lives Quietly —> HERE
Buddhaful Britt: Most Interesting Travel Blogger —> HERE
Buddhaful Advise: As We Think, So We Become —> HERE
Buddhaful Advise: Inner Peace —> HERE
Buddhaful Advise: Everyday Stress —> HERE
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“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sailaway from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” ~ Mark Twain
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