February 6th, 2011
Five Months After the Fire
Hello Friends,
Well, I’m going to tell you some weird stuff. Some Woo-Woo stuff. But hey, I live in Boulder (You have to say that like this; “BOUL-der”) and Boulder is one of the Top Ten Woo-Woo Towns of All Time — yet another reason why I love it.
Anyway, there are a few Strange Things that I haven’t shared with many people since the fire, and I thought I’d finally share them with you. So here they are.
As you know, I was out of town when my house burned down. On the day that I was packing to go on that particular road trip, I had finished loading up the car and was about ready to head out and drive cross-country to Port Townsend, Washington, my current Favorite Place That is Not Boulder. Nellie was already in the car, and I was walking around the house, checking the doors and windows and making sure everything was off – just the normal stuff you do before leaving on vacation. All of a sudden I stopped in the kitchen and had an odd thought – If anything happened to the house, is there anything that I simply could not live without? I wanted to get going, but this thought began to nag at me. Impulsively, I went down to the bedroom and grabbed the strand of Mikkimoto pearls my father had given me as a teenager, my backup hard drive, and the only existing copy of my Birth Certificate. I tossed these in a bag, stuffed it under the passenger seat, locked the front door, and drove off.
My friend Beth laughed with disbelief when I told her this story after the fire. “You brought your birth certificate and pearls on a KAYAKING TRIP? Andi, do you realize that NOBODY DOES THAT?”
Especially not me. I have to say that I have never been an overly cautious person. I grew up in the late sixties and early seventies after all, and have had many a Wild Adventure in my day. I still travel a lot, and usually toss everything in the car and hit the road without a second thought. But on that particular morning, I just had a funny feeling about leaving the house. There was something that gave me pause, and I’ve always believed in following those instincts.
And so, without knowing it, without thinking, I had grabbed a few of the most important and irreplaceable objects in my life; the pearls that my father had hand-carried from a trip to Japan and gave to me when I turned 13 – my first real grown-up gift; my Birth Certificate – the proof of my very existence; and my backup hard drive – the small, metal box of wires and chips and technology that holds ten or more years of writing, research, films and photos. Just a flick of the wrist and it was in the bag – saved for my own little eternity.
As Beth said, Who DOES that? No one I know, including me. As I said, pretty Woo-Woo.
The other big Woo-Woo thing happened the day of the fire. Long before anyone told me, I knew in my heart that my house had burned down. On Labor Day, when I heard that the fire was burning in Sunshine Canyon (still a pretty big distance from my house) I began to sob uncontrollably. My brain kept thinking, “What’s the matter with you? It’s not even in your neighborhood!” But my heart knew the truth. My house was gone. Everything was gone. It was only a matter of time before I would get the Bad News. My head was hoping for the best, but my heart was already breaking.
That night in Port Townsend, I finished packing for my road trip back to Colorado, and then got into a steaming hot bath. I remembered a story I heard a spiritual teacher tell many years ago. It goes like this:
In China long ago, there was a businessman who owned many factories and stores. He spent his days running his huge empire. Yet he was never stressed, and always seemed very serene. One of his employees finally asked, “When you have all this responsibility and pressure, how is it that you manage to stay so calm, so centered?” The businessman replied, “Each night when I lie in bed, in my mind I burn down my factories, and I burn down my stores, and I go to bed knowing I have nothing. So I sleep like a baby, and when I wake up in the morning, everything is new.”
I thought about that story, and closed my eyes. I mentally burned down the house, and thought, “If everything is gone, where will I go? If I’m not on my mountain on my three acres behind a ranch, where will I be?” The first thing that popped into my mind was “Chautauqua.” That beautiful little camp-like spot in Boulder, tucked right up against the foothills, with the cute cabins and the historic Dining Hall and the wonderful old concert hall. The place with gardens, and quiet, and cool green expanses. Chautauqua Park.
I didn’t even know if they still rented places at Chautauqua; I assumed they had long ago switched over to short-term tourist rentals. But that night, I went on line and looked at cottages in Chautauqua. And in the morning I shot off an email to friends asking them to look into it. Before I even knew for sure that my house burned down. And when I learned a cottage was available, I took it sight unseen, without looking into any other rentals, because that same small voice said, “This is your place.” How did I know it would turn out to be the perfect place for me?
Like I said, Woo-Woo.
Here’s the thing about Woo-Woo. I think there is a kind of mystical web that connects each and every one of us. Call it God, or Nature, or Spirit, or The Heart, or Quantum Energy, or Cosmic Intelligence or Random Matter. I think there is Something- inside or outside of us – and that Something, when we get in touch with it, tells us important things – things we need to not miss.
In my post-fire life, I’ve been contemplating this. What was it that told me to do one last round in my house, and grab just a few more things? How on earth did I know that my house had burned down, long before the official report, when in the end, all of my closest neighbors’ homes were saved? Why did I have that funny feeling, on that day last summer, that I might never come back to that house?
And what IS that Something? Where does it live? Inside me? Outside me? Is it God? Intuition? My own good sense? These are questions good people have wrestled with for centuries.
The jury’s out for now, but I will keep you posted, as I make my True Confessions in this writing, and listen for that still, small voice, that messenger that whispers, and tugs at my sleeve, and tells me that the house is burning, burning… and to get ready.
Wishing you a Good Night,
Andi
Luckily you listen to the voice within that sends nonsensical messages that one day all make complete sense! Yes, it’s the great Cosmic Woo-Woo that keeps us engaged in the magic of the universe.
P.S. I’m going to try the advice of the Chinese businessman. Such a wonderful lesson in letting go and engaging wholly as appropriate!
Years ago, a perceptive friend said to me, “You don’t have a spiritual bone in your body!” The Woo Woo part of Boulder (or anyplace else) has never resonated with me, but when someone like you has such Woo Woo incidents, I know it’s out there. I just don’t get it — and frankly, I’m not interested in embarking on a quest to find it. I’m just glad it was there for you at the right time — and I’m glad it’s there for you and others.
I’m not very woo-woo either, but there have been times when I’ve felt prompted to do something and I’ve learned to never ignore such prompts. I’m glad you have your pearls. Sleep well.
I’ll second Claire and Jerrie–my sense of intuition is terrible, and I’m not at all a believer in a lot of superstitious stuff, but I’m so glad it kicked in for you that day!
p.s. Cora says “Hi!” She has moved on from pizza to licking the sides of caramel rolls on a plate HELD IN MY HAND. Quick little bugger!
Andi, your stories don’t surprise me at all–and I wouldn’t call them woo-woo. I think intuition is probably just good, old-fashioned instinct. Animals have it, humans have it, maybe plants and micro-organisms have their own form of it. Maybe even rocks. It’s our Western thinking inherited from Descartes (and going all the way back to Plato) that leads us to believe that hunches or feelings are “out there” in the realm of mind or spirit rather than “in here” in the basic stuff of matter–and that mind and matter are two completely separate things.
I think what you experienced was some good old instinct–what humans (and animals before us) have been using for millennia to survive. Just because we no longer hunt for our food or have to run from predators doesn’t mean that the old instinct for sensing what is happening some distance away is entirely lost to us.
The philosopher Val Plumwood talked about “the creativity of matter” here. I like to talk about the basic intelligence of matter. It’s not outside us; its in us. We share this creativity, this intelligence, with the rest of the visible world. After all, we got it from the other creatures–a possibility that has to be considered if you believe in evolution.
I can remember a few times when I’ve felt “in the groove”; when things seemed to be falling into a certain order and I felt more like a witness than a participant. Like my mom dying, or like when I made the leap to learn acupuncture and re-invent myself yet again. Dear Andi, I remember having conversations with you before about the randomness vs. the perfect order of the universe. Though I still haven’t figured out how the Grand Canyon is like a giant crystal, I have developed a sense of being part of a fabric or web – where an event that hasn’t manifested yet, can nevertheless have a presence in that small corner of our consciousness. For something of this magnitude to have come into your life, and for you to have had early “woo-woo” experiences about it, tells me that it is staging for a big metamorphosis. I can barely wait to see the beautiful, exquisite creature that you are becoming.
Thinking about you always,
-g.
And here you are, Andi, once again, one step ahead of me as I sit here today, composing a blog post about the pain I’m in right now, because I haven’t felt connected to the Woo-Woo in a few years. Here you come through my feed.
Messages from the Cosmos. Wow. I generally act on a stray impulse simply because it seems churlish not to, and YOU NEVER KNOW. Thank you for sharing this Andi; I too am glad you have your pearls (both literally and metaphorically).
I loved this blog. I’ve had numerous similar experiences and conclude that the heart does know. When I was offered a book contract and signed on with a Publisher Who Won’t Be Named, I felt so depressed and deflated. It made no sense to me, although at first I followed it and declined the offer. When this publisher ended up “orphaning” the book about 7 weeks before the pub date, I felt some relief although so many people were telling me how tragic and unfair this was. When I was finally clear of a “termination agreement,” I got a new contract within days from a publisher that has been wonderful. If only we could regularly trust our deeper knowing. So glad you did!
Andi, I love the story about the Chinese businessman. And I’m glad you still have a few things from your house.
I have always been overly cautious and paranoid, so I find it hard to know when to listen to that voice. A week before we lost our house, I saw smoke in the distance and thought it was near my home. I rushed up the hill, thinking of what would happen if it was my house. It was just smoke from a train, but it made me stop and think about what we would grab. Because of that, a week later, I knew exactly what to tell my husband as he jumped out of my Prius.
My pearls? Survived, sort of. But I almost feel like their charred existence is a more perfect metaphor for the relationship I have with my dad.
We had a lot of woo-woo things after the fire, which is so hard to categorize. Was it just a coincidence or was it some divinely inspired moment? I don’t know.
I call it Oogie-Boogie, but it’s the same thing which has occasionally penetrated the narcisstic busyness and, on a few occasions, saved my life.
I think I felt some of your woo-woo. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would have found you again after all these years. When I heard of those fires, I didn’t know if you still lived anywhere near Boulder.
On Valentine’s Day I received one of those “forward this” emails that said:
“There comes a point in your life when you realize:
Who matters,
Who never did,
Who won’t anymore…
And who always will.
So, don’t worry about people from your past,
There’s a reason why they didn’t make it to your future.”
I might have agreed if it wasn’t for the last two lines. I wondered if the author of that quote had never moved very far or very often.
I think sometimes those people from your past may be out there waiting to be rediscovered when you need them most. Even when I didn’t know where you were or what you were up too, you could still make me smile at just the memory of the good times we had together. Finding you again has meant a lot to me.
I think friendship has its own kind of woo-woo. It is the friendship woo-woo that helps you through hard times and turns an average summer into a glorious one.
I agree with Priscilla’s comment, and with Jasmin that “the heart does know.” Inner knowing has guided me time and again, and the more I trust it the more it seems to guide. A wise and beautiful post, Andi.
So touching, ur words, ur experience, ur wondering n universal immortal questioning. Thank u for sharing n in such a simple eloquent way. I am sorry for ur losses. I wish u only the best on ur path of healing, celebration, n re-building.
i totally get woo hoo moments, too. gotta listen to them. glad you did. can you imagine if you hadn’t? if someone is on my mind for some reason, i call them up asap. the universe is nudging us, but do we pay attention?
thanks for sharing 🙂
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