Everything Happens for a Reason

            Laying in bed, I grabbed my laptop.  The six chocolate martinis I had the night before had pummeled my head and I was in bad shape.  I had to know more about the Clairvoyant.  Unable to tune into the universe, I opened Google. I typed, “Clairvoyant Chicago,” thinking if he gets paid two-hundred dollars to tune in to people, he must have a shingle hanging out in the universe somewhere, and today the most likely place would be the Internet.

            My search uncovered nothing about him, but the first link was for the Clairvoyant Center of Chicago.

            I clicked on the link.

            “Clairvoyant Training Begins This Month.”

            Everything happens for a reason. Everything.

            I fired off an email, waiting for the universe to respond.

            I thought about what the Clairvoyant had said about manifesting the sale of the condo, so I closed my laptop and began thinking about the joy I would experience finally being in a place of my own.  The people I would have over, for dinner, to watch movies, to have a cocktail before a night on the town. I thought about the type of space I would want, imagining large windows and a spectacular view of the city.  It would be comfortable and inviting, appear to be lived in and filled with inspiring colors and natural light.  It would be close to the grocery store, the gym, near a pool, and dry cleaner. It will be in the middle of an eclectic neighborhood with plenty of dining options, a diner for Sunday brunch, and a great bar with cool people who hang out. 

            It will be a place where people will want to come visit, linger and hang out.  It will be easy for people to get to, with plenty of easy parking in the area.   It will sustain me and rejuvenate me, inspiring me creatively.  I opened my journal and wrote down all of those qualities.

            Later that day, I went to the pool to swim. I had walked down the street passing a real estate office I’d passed hundreds of times. But this time, a sign caught my eye.  Every condo unit highlighted in the window was not for sale, but for rent.  It was the first time I’d seen anything quite like it, and I stood there for a minute, reading the details of the units.  One was in a building I had admired, and was exactly what I had envisioned – and the rental rate was at the low end of my budget, and included more than I had imagined.

            It gave me not just a sense of hope that all would work out, but I now had a place that I could visualize.

            A place that I could totally feel at home in.

            Everything happens for a reason. Everything.