Do you know when it's hard to write? When you don't feel like yourself. It's hard to write when you can't put words on a page that reflect who you are in your heart. And since August there have been very few moments when I actually felt I could write. (In stark contrast, June and July contained some of my life's most amazing moments, which perhaps makes this all the more intolerable.) That is why I have been keeping myself so far away. I'm estranged from my life and to write only makes it that much clearer to me. There's a throb, a heavy thud of a tug in my chest that makes that cavity where my heart sits seem vacant and hollow and the word hurt keeps coming to mind. I believe in a combination of Destiny and Free Will and the older I get the more I see that Free Will is Destiny's gift. I used to say, "One has to embrace Destiny for Destiny to get a part in one's life." And to me that meant that I had to make space for Destiny in my life. I had to decide that I wouldn't make every choice and I would leave room for Destiny to lead me. My role was to follow signs and wish and release. That is still a large part of my belief system. I sometimes think that I had certain topics figured out early on in life and it makes me happy to realize that this heavy thought I indulged in has served me well. It has served me happiness. So, here I sit now- on 12.26- wondering what the hell I did, or rather, did not do, that has led me to a perfect storm of chance and limbo and uncertainty. The very things and moments in my life that I gave thanks for so many times are beyond vanished, they are so out of sight that I feel my spirit clawing from the inside of me. I feel fingernails scratching with desperation, trying to shred this new skin I have on and reclaim my life's peace- my life's place.
On my way to work this morning (there will be many topics I owe explanation on, and will get to in time, but it will take quite a bit of time. Many things have changed.) I was struck by a song I've heard hundreds of times but it sounded new to me and the reason why is because I connected with its main projected thought. It was in the form of a question and the question is relevant in so many ways. "What's going on?" I usually, as you know, would be asking the question directed to the world at large. But, not now. Even though I have many people, places and systems to ask that question, I am bringing it in to my microcosm and asking in a loud voice "What's going on?" I'm asking myself, yes. I'm asking the Universe. I'm asking God- although, my tone sweetens as I do. And I want to know, what was my thought pattern that has served me with such chaos. Was it the fact that I moved so quickly? (We are back in Atlanta, GA.) Was it because I moved so quickly and in that short time of packing we experienced 4 natural disasters, producing a feeling of chaos that has yet to expire- and in turn keeps giving what feels like a perfect storm of a scenario to live in day in and day out for the 4 months since? Did I really opt so far out of the peace zone that I'm projected into this much muck?
Most of all though, I ask "What's going on?" to one particular entity: Wells Fargo.
In August, we entered contract with Wells Fargo on a bank owned town home with a 9.18 Closing Date. It's pretty humorous considering that this listing advertised "Must Close by 9.30.2011" and after we entered contract and set our Closing Date for 9.18 Wells Fargo very authoritatively issued a prospective penalty fee to us for each and every day we went past deadline. Nick and I immediately wrapped up our life in Edenton, NC. He got all things in order at work for his departure. We secured our finances to meet our end of this arrangement in a perfunctory manner. We got Mayflower Movers from Athens, GA , our trusted moving company, in line and ready to haul our belongings and store them for the two weeks between our move and the Closing Date. We packed EVERYTHING ourselves. I wrapped every item, taped every box, labeled thoroughly our possessions in as fast of a manner conceivable. Meanwhile, an earthquake rattled our state randomly. My china was shaking behind me in the china cabinet as I wrapped the Waterford goblet in my hand and I thought "Why, it's the strangest thing, but I think the Earth is moving." I turned and asked mom, who drove 13 hours with my father to come help us meet this very definite deadline of a date, "Mom, is the Earth moving?" Indeed. We experienced an earthquake. It was all okay at that point. No harm done and we actually got to ask ourselves that question which ranks pretty high on a "Can You Believe This?!" story-telling list. Days later, as we continued to haul ass packing up our entire life, a hurricane came knocking on Edenton, NC's door. It was a doozie. Mayor Bloomers issued a mandatory evacuation for the humongous city of NYC (Which is a really dominating move if you ask me. What if you are 80 and have no car and no where to go? Mayor Bloomy gets to kick you out on the street for your own welfare? Wouldn't an indoor facility be safer than that?) Our own neighbors were leaving in droves. I wasn't so sure. Unless told where this gigantic storm was going exactly, I preferred the 100+ year old brick, steel, and beamed building to hide in as opposed to my Audi A4 on an open road sitting in the middle of other scurrying souls. So, we continued to pack. Well into the storm, we wrapped, and taped and smooshed and categorized. The hurricane hit and I laid still in bed watching the silhouettes of trees swaying on my wall in front of me. I listened to the high pitched whistle and howls of the wind. Our pooch Tea' came up to my bed and issued a wolf-howl to me and touched my leg so I followed her downstairs to a hallway, where she sat with me until finally two hours later, she left me and went back to her resting spot. Not so surprisingly, my phone alerted me of several tornadoes that had touched down in that exact time frame. The last one occurred moments before Tea' finally left my side. She sensed the chaos. She sensed it perfectly. As the wind sprayed the rain and the hurricane raged, the tornadoes touched down, spinning off from the funnels, and the waters rose flooding Edenton's streets. The Sound came across the street. Queen Anne's Creek was now in our parking lot. All this time, we packed. We risked a pretty good bit to meet this deadline in our contract with Wells Fargo. I can't come close to saying they treated our agreement with the same respect. Where were my senses in all this? I could learn from sweet Tea'.
We got to Atlanta safely. And we have appreciated our generous friends and family who have let us stay with them in their homes during our wait. Our Closing Date came and went. Over 6 times. It is the day after Christmas Day and I am now beginning a new search for homes. Our town home is still waiting on us. We are still waiting on it. And we are still waiting on Wells Fargo. They haven't communicated. They haven't honored one portion of our agreement. They haven't resembled a respectable institution with which I would ever recommend doing business. They have created a perfect storm that has affected my life in a much more dramatic fashion than the hurricane, tornadoes, flood or earthquake did. Comparing Mother Nature and Wells Fargo is a disrespect to our Earth. There is no rhyme or reason, no purpose served, no higher sense or logic to Wells Fargo and this company's actions. Do they deserve the high quantities of mortgages they are stuck paying with foreclosures? Why yes. I think they do. Because I've been begging them to take one in particular off their hands. They would rather be negligent; lie to keep lives in limbo as they continue to ignore their responsibility, their business. And for every answer I do happen to get this is what is said "It's just the process." No. It is not a process that is to blame. And yes. I am blaming at this point. I am pointing my finger and I am blaming Wells Fargo for being a sorry establishment that fails at its job. But a process? Don't get yourself off the hook so easily. A process is a string of actions that people put in place. A process is an inanimate thing. People are the problem. The people that put this string of nonsense actions in place is to blame. And the people who choose to not perform those nonsense actions and just GET IT DONE are to blame. Wells Fargo. You suck.
I flip them off every time I see one of their ugly yellow and red signs. I cuss at them every time I see one of their ugly bank buildings. And I smile whenever someone tells me they've left Wells Fargo because Wachovia was so much better and they aren't happy since the take-over. I embrace this immature streak because they deserve every bit of loss they get. They aren't good at business. This behavior is unacceptable. Since when do contracts mean nothing to one side of the deal only? Since when do you get to ignore an agreement to the point of non-communication and blatant, knowing lies?
So, 4 months of Wells Fargo is enough. I'm not giving any more of my precious time in life over to an irresponsible bank. It's a great town home, but ultimately- I don't care about that. I care about my peaceful life that I want back. I care about my family: Nick, me, my 3 pups. I care about our music and stories and conversations, our quiet moments together. I do not care about any set of walls enough to postpone my time with the above a moment longer.
So, the hunt is on again. Nick found one fantastic option in a better location, but I found out it sold this morning. It closed in 3 days. So, apparently the process works for some agreements. I choose to put myself in an honored contract such as that. If I had anything to do with this set of circumstances, then okay, I accept that maybe chaos breeds chaos and that is what happened here and I obliged. But, I grasp serenity and order in this moment. I will rely on my Free Will. I will myself to let go of Wells Fargo and not consume myself with their toxicity of a business. I will myself to allow Destiny to take me down a calmer path.
I mentioned signs earlier as one of my life's responsibilities. Back in November, I was in a state of worry and struggle with my lack of the life I had worked to create and I was driving my car. I heard a song that came on and this song reminds me of my angels every time I hear it. I said aloud, "Thank you. I so needed this song right now." I stopped at the light. As the light turned green and the car in front of me eased forward, I was smacked forward. I got rear-ended for the first time ever. The car in front of me was gone so I didn't hit it. I wasn't hurt. The guy who hit me looked genuinely startled when I asked him "You didn't see me?" He blinked hard and deliberately as if he were checking his eye sight. "No. I didn't." he said with confusion. As I got in my car to drive out of the intersection, I looked up to see where I was for the traffic report. I was at the intersection of Wills Rd.. I had been screaming for help. I had a sign from an angel sound loud and clear. Then, I was thrust forward into the intersection of Wills.
I ask myself now, "Which way will I go?" "Do I choose Will Power (never been a favorite)? Free Will? Destiny?"
It's something I will consider, but for now I can say that I will probably go with what has served me best my entire life before this storm of a mess. I'll resort to my hard thought and philosophy from childhood and I'll intersect two. My life's Free Will chooses to include Destiny and I'll read the signs along the way. Did I need to be reminded about signs and the collision of causation? My new direction will begin with this choice and the additional choice to release a negative catalyst- the oddly placed enemy of mine: Wells Fargo. I will make my wish again for a beautiful and perfectly suited home for me and my family. And I will let Destiny help run my course. Take me home.
It's true I had a calm before the storm. I had a great summer. I've since had the mother load of the Perfect Storm. What has it felt like? A rebirth. A difficult renewal. Now, I wait for New Life. I'm here in this location- a decision that seemed to evolve naturally by means of uncanny opportunities. Since then, an immensely unnatural set of results has occurred month after month. There is no more energy for the storm. I am brewed out. So, I wait for the sun to peak through. I say the words I opened my prized possession of a book with: "Lord, Let the Sun Shine on Me." It is the end of 2011. This special year that represents my birth to me, 2.11, is nearly over. And my wish is similar to the story my mother told me of how I was born. She said there was a dark, cold, windy winter outside, the coming Winter Olympics and all the heroic stories of athletic triumph were on the television when I decided to come into Earth. She said she delivered me (naturally- drug free I'll add, bravo mama!!) at 1:55 AM (= 11 :) on February 11, 1980 and when she held me in her arms the very first morning of mine that a tiny slit of sunshine beamed through the blinds of the window on a grey, cloudy day and that it showered my face and nothing else in the room. She told me that she gasped and put her finger on the tip of my nose and told me then and there as an infant that I was special. I visualize this with such detail that I can see myself as a baby in my mother's arms, fresh to the world- just having made it through a Perfect Storm of sorts. (A story like that will get you through anything in life. If you don't have one, promise me you'll make one up for yourself.) It snowed in South Georgia that winter. Unheard of. Since that story, I always walk into the fresh day and say to the sky, "Lord, Let the Sun Shine on Me." or I say it when I feel a sunbeam of light upon my face- but I've forgotten to lately. I've been in a whirlwind.
Free Will, meet Destiny.
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