Well, there's serendipity and then there's serendipity. I've wondered this week about the flip side of the happy accident. What exactly would that look like? Random, it could not be. Intentional, planned misery. Or maybe the unintended crummy consequences of our deliberate plans. I've had plenty of those shipwrecks, but they're not my focus today. I'll sidestep that version of unserendipity and consider the converse of this pet term to mean a random happenstance that does not immediately make me feel good.
Consider: Last week I needed to take my car in for safety and emissions update. I drove to the Jiffy Lube just down the street and was informed their emissions computer crashed, but I could quickly motor my way to one of their other shops a few blocks away. I did this, only to be told again the emissions computer had gone down. What a coincidence, right? Twice in one day. Must mean something. Well, yeah, it meant I had my car checked out at Lube Doc instead. Still, my sci-fi fed imagination couldn't help but wonder how this diversion to my plan may have altered the trajectory of the universe (which revolves around me, in case you didn't know this). Was the chit chat with the man in the lobby somehow significant? We'll never know for sure, but I'll accept any tokens of gratitude for the fact the world as you know it did not come to an end that morning.
Now I'll give you a peek into my recent family vacation that was chock full of accidents, happy or otherwise, and we'll take a closer look at good/bad luck. A good friend hosts an annual tribal gathering at Flaming Gorge Reservoir each year. He is one of those people who knows everyone. Each year he single-handedly reserves a shit-load of campsites for about 60 - 80 people, give or take a kid or two. Most years he reserves the "good" site, the one with running water and showers that sits a hop, skip, and a jump away from the lake and good cliff jumping. This year he reserved late and we found ourselves pulling into an unfamiliar primitive ground. Can you say stinking outhouse shared by 60 - 80 people give or take a kid or two? We were unprepared and brought no water. OK, no worries. I drove to the crook-in-the-road convenience store/raft rental shop and bought some. How covenient. The place was dirty and hot, but we'd be rafting the Green River and hanging out at the lake during daylight hours. I could rustle up some flexibility and go with this flow.
Friday we rode to the lake with our good friend towing a couple of kayaks. The kids paddled around for awhile, learning to steer or not to steer, as they pleased. They jumped from cliffs and swam around while Significant Other and I kayaked around the wakes of speedier, flashier boats and explored a few nooks and crannies of the reservoir. Good way to kill time. I didn't want to be there, but I practiced this newfound optimistic flexibility and enjoyed the water if not the sun. Meanwhile, dusk approaches, we direct our boats and bodies back to the shore and rental car parked in the lot. Chris asks for keys which I had no recollection of having. He had taken them back to the car before our float to lock a few valuables in the trunk. I'll spare you any gruesome details and simply state that the keys were not found. Anywhere. We called the local sheriff--fortunately handy at the dam (Homeland Security and all) who unlocked the car. Did you know most rental car places don't stock spare keys? It's policy. We ended up having the car towed to the nearest town an hour away. Expensive accident. Not quite serendipity, but can I fill you in on a little secret? It didn't ruin the trip.
See, I'm thinking serendipity is little more than a placebo. Blogger Sabio Lantz commented on my last post "'Serendipity' is usually post hoc rationalization to make us feel good about the inevitable." Well said, dude. And I'm inclined to believe there's nothing wrong with that. Studies have shown that much of the benefit of pharmaceutical anti-depressants, for example, can be attributed to the placebo effect. This certainly isn't a scientific certainty, but I'd like to propose that serendipity is cheaper than Prozac, and all it requires is a little attention, flexibility, and openness to uncertainty and change. I am no shining beacon of equanimity, but I happily report that the rest of this doomed vacation was just fine. Though we were required to rely on the kindness of strangers for the duration, we enjoyed a happy float down the river the next day in kayaks and rafts. My kids made friends with folks they didn't know. Chris and I synched up our energies in a two-person kayak, and during the slow times on the river I had time to muse on how chock full of metaphors a few hours on a river can be. For example, the less you fight the river, the more you pay attention, read it, work with it, the more pleasant, exciting, adventurous the trip will be. I had a Modest Mouse soundtrack playing in the back of my thoughts: "We'll all float on OK." And we will.
There are tragedies greater than losing one's keys at the bottom of a deep lake. Upon returning I learned that the partner of a dear friend was diagnosed with breast cancer and had an immediate double mastectomy scheduled. She's since had that operation, and latest report is that she's getting through with humor, trash TV, and loving support. The spouse of a colleague died of cancer that week as well. I won't make light of the loss or the pain, and I can't call it serendipity, but this is part of the flow as well. We can fight the river, turn our backs to it and fall off the raft, or we can watch it with attention and enjoy the ride. We may still fall off the raft, but that's part of the ride, too. All right already.
