Last week my flatmate and another friend were heading out for drinks and a fashion show, followed by a night on the town with lots of dancing. Trying not to be jealous, I wished them a good night, then returned to my ‘nest’ on the couch with my blanket cocoon and icepacks, and prepared myself for yet another night in watching telly. It was going to be a big night – my first ‘real’ food in several days since the dental surgery and I can’t really express just how excited I was to eat it (no, I’m not kidding; by this time I was dreaming of big fat steaks, burgers, chicken wraps, anything with any real substance, and this was as close as I could get!).
I’d made gnocchi with a light cream sauce with some grated vegies, onions and garlic I’d sautéed until soft. However, I underestimated how hard it would be to actually get the pieces of gnocchi into my swollen mouth, and I was a little achy by the time I finished (but gee it tasted like heaven!).
It was around this time that my flatmate called in a bit of a fluster – she’s left their fashion show tickets on her bed. There was no question; of course I’d drop them into her! Now I did for one split second consider changing out of my PJ’s into normal clothes for the trip, but dismissed it. I even considered keeping the icepack tied to my face, but thought better of it – might scare another driver if they happened to look over at me. So off I went in my PJ’s, fluffy grey dressing robe and all, with my hair unbrushed and my face looking like a bruised chip monk – what did it matter? No-one was going to see me. I even joked to my other flatmate as I left “hope I don’t get pulled over!” Why, oh why, did I say that…?
There were no parks near the agreed drop off spot, so I pulled in a little further up in front on a taxi queue. By this time my face was full on throbbing with pain (damn you delicious gnocchi!). I just wanted to call my friend, hand over the tickets, and go home. But no.
The taxi started honking at me even though I’d left ample room for him to pull out around me, so I rolled forward a bit more. By now I’m almost right in the very busy pedestrian walkway crossing at the top of the mall in Brisbane City (in front of the Treasury Casino if you’re familiar with the area), and apparently on a yellow line (which means no standing at any time), and I have my mobile phone in my hand trying to call my friend (completely illegal in Brisbane – you need to have the engine turned off). Then I look up to see several Friday night revellers about to cross the road staring at me very amused, and the reason for their amusement: two policemen making a beeline straight for me. Crap.
I dropped the phone like a hot potato, but I knew they’d seen it. Winding down the window I mumbled (literally, with the whole swollen face and all) something about tickets for my flatmate. I was so embarrassed – the people in the background were laughing, my face was throbbing with pain and swollen with some pretty impressive green and purple bruises on my cheeks. And of course I was in my ever so classy PJ/fury robe ensemble. The policeman took it all in, and must have taken pity on me (thank you!); he only mentioned I needed to move to let the taxis out, and suggested I pull up a little further in a non-yellow lined area.
While I was extremely grateful to be getting off so lightly (I’d envisioned at least a $100 fine for using the phone with the engine on), I immediately thought back to those fateful words I’d utter in jest as I left the house… Was it a simple case of Murphy’s Law? Or had I jinxed myself?
Then yesterday I had another moment while driving in the car, where I thought something fleetingly, and then about 2mins later it happened. This made me wonder if the Universe was trying to tell me something and I just didn’t listen? Or had I somehow made it happen by thinking about it and visualising it, albeit briefly?
I’m very familiar with the idea of the power of suggestion and subliminal messages – after all, this is how the advertising world gets us to crave food and items we don’t actually need or want (seriously I don’t even eat Macca’s, but damn those adds make me want one of those new lamb burgers… if only I could get it in my mouth). And I’m familiar with the use of vision boards where you place pictures of your goals and positive things in a prominent place that you see every day, to get into your subconscious and inspire you (we have one on our toilet door; it’s a great place to think). Plus, I’m a big believer in what you put out into the Universe, you get back. So then, is it really such a big leap to thinking I may have made those two things happen?
And if I did, then I guess my next question is: How do I turn it into positive things happening? I doubt it’s as simple as just thinking about it – otherwise we’d all be Gold Lotto winners!
Many years ago when I was a manager with a wonderful Australian party plan company Le Reve, I was taught to ‘catch my thoughts’; a way of becoming aware of exactly what it is you’re thinking about; If your thoughts are taking a negative angle you ‘catch’ yourself and change your train of thought into a positive.
I also now recall that around the same time, I was lent the book The Secret, which created quite a controversial furore around 2006 when it was released on DVD first, then in book form as it grew in popularity. Now I’ll admit I’ve had that book for about 5yrs, but have never actually read it. Even though one of my most treasured friends, who now lives in New York, swears by this book contributing to her successful move across the world several years ago, finding a job amongst economic unrest, and finding her wonderful now husband!
Hmmm, Maybe I should dig that book out and read it once and for all. After all, what have I got to lose? Plus I can already visualise exactly which box it’s packed away in underneath my house…