Serendipity

Serendipity, an old word with a meaning that might be difficult to understand.
It always makes me think of Mary Poppins, dancing with her umbrella, twirling
and whirling around, seemingly not touching the ground, somehow in the air,
only coming down when and where she is needed to be, in all of her singularity.

Much prefer another word: “synchronicity”. Sounds so much more right to me.
Many things brought together, in one moment of reality. All coming together to make
of the place in which I stand, the only one truly meant for me. A special gift, given by the Universe to let me know that I am never alone, but always home in this life-long quest
which I have chosen.

Makes no difference what I might be doing: writing poems, drawing pen and ink doodles, making designs that I might color, or a myriad other things. This curious string of things
I do is simply me being me. It would be foolish for me to think it might be good to be
other than who and what I have become in this space of time which I alone

have been given.

Elizabeth Crawford 4/22/2021

Note: Image is a photograph I took several years ago. I had become more than a little interested in the pelicans that migrate here every year to nest on Pelican Island far out in the bay. One morning, very early, I decided to go alone to the small park at the mouth of the river that runs through the middle of our city. As I stepped up and over the curb that separates the tiny park from the rest of the city, I looked down to find a pelican feather, lying on the ground at my feet. I had just read how Pelicans are a symbol of buoyancy: the ability to dive deeply, then pop back up to the surface with whatever nurture might be needed.