Booga Booga

Okay, I had a meeting and was having a bout of nerves. I thought ten or so minutes of meditation would do the trick. I'm terrible at meditation--you know that scene in "Eat, Pray, Love" where Julia Roberts is in India and can't get her monkey mind to settle down after weeks of pasta? That's me.

So, the phone rings. While I'm meditating. I am actively reaching for a higher plane and I am subjected to the banality of a ringing phone. I mean, really. I meditate for a few more minutes and check my voice mail. It's someone telling me I need a document that I have no idea where it is. I check this trunk where I keep all my papers and find it. As I'm closing up the trunk, I notice a stack of greeting cards my late mother sent me during the last years of her life. I pull out the card that says, "Reach for your dreams." I read it. She'd signed it, "I believe in you." I cried like a tiny, baby infant.

I don't go in for all that New Age booga-booga stuff. But I'd like to believe my mama still takes time out from eternity to talk to me.