We have broken two
wine glasses in the past two days.
Karen: I think this is
God’s way of telling us not to drink so much.
Paula: I think this is
God’s way of telling us to drink from the bottle.
We were both joking, of course – but secretly, more often
than I’d like to admit, I find myself trying to interpret the stream of events
in my life as signs getting beamed to me from the great unknown.
Six red lights in a row on the way to the
train station: I am a bad person in need of punishment.
Finding an all-day free parking spot in
downtown Menlo Park: kiss my ring, world, I have been singled out for greatness.
Sunrises, hummingbird visitations, finding
the silhouette of a wolf in the stucco of my bedroom ceiling… all these things
make up a collective compass that is guiding me through a scripted and
meaningful series of acts.
And superstitions:
I love them.
Just pennies alone… I have
spent countless hours wondering what the terms and conditions of “Find a penny,
pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck” are.
Is “all day long” 24 consecutive hours, or
just until midnight, or perhaps nightfall?
Is it lucky only if you find the penny heads up?
(I find nothing in the scripture to support
this, but still… I don’t touch the tails pennies.)
What if it happens to be your own penny that
you find, in your own house, but in an unexpected place?
I think the equivalent of the
Talmud could be
written about this simple verse.
I started to wonder what makes this harvesting of signs and
signals so attractive, if a little embarrassing.
Superstition has a negative connotation to
most people – the stuff of simple-minded, uneducated Old Country women.
But say “I believe everything happens for a
reason” in the quiet ceremony of an interpersonal dynamics
T-group or a first
date, and the response is likely to be a solemn and respectful nod and an
appreciation of your spiritual depth.
We’re
all looking for a logical trail of breadcrumbs that leads to exactly where we
are today, whether there are black cats, or bad people turning into pillars of
salt, or yoga retreats along the way.
If you Google “why are people superstitious”, you’ll come
across a
Web MD feature on the subject, based on an interview with Stuart Vyse,
PhD, and the author of
Believing in Magic: The Psychology of Superstition:
Wanting more control
or certainty is the driving force behind most superstitions. We tend to look
for some kind of a rule, or an explanation for why things happen.
"Sometimes the creation of a false certainty is better than no certainty
at all, and that is what much of the research suggests," says Vyse.
This sounds about right to me. I’m good with false certainty; after all,
mindset is an important element of well-being and happiness, and having an
explanation for things helps me feel that the next thing that happens to me may
be good, or bad, but at least it won’t be random (and therefore entirely out of
my control).
But I think there’s more to it than being a control freak. I think we all want to get to the end of our
lives and find that our autobiography is a rich and meaningful story – one that
ultimately had not just a sense of purpose, but an actual purpose. We are constantly attuned to the
circumstances around us that might somehow be our cues. And we are worried that if we wave away the
oddity of two broken glasses in a week, we might be missing something: perhaps
the one cue we’ve been waiting for to pivot from our current trajectory and discover
our true reason for walking this earth.
Well, actually, the wine glass thing was just a really funny
conversation. We got a lot of mileage
out of it on Facebook (my source for personal validation.) But it did get me thinking about this topic,
and then writing about it. And the next
time I turn a corner and come face to face with a giant, orange moon hanging
just above the horizon, I will think to myself: I am destined for greatness.