9. An Eye on Delight- Centering Synchronicity, Small Kindnesses, & ‘Green Tag Tax’
Choosing to be a patch of blue sky amidst unrelenting clouds
I turned 40 recently and I intended to use this January newsletter to share some reflections on stepping into a new decade. Instead we are here, holding to my previous promise to myself and to you all to follow the energy as it is available.
In August, 2022 I began a note in my phone titled ‘Synchronicity of the day.’ This was my first documented noticing practice and I suspect it has changed my life. Whether you call it synchronicity or kismet or serendipity, the common thread is noticing when a spark of intuition nudges and says ‘this is significant.’ Whether it is a ‘right place, right time’ moment or happening upon an answer to a pressing question, or feeling that tingle of magic in an otherwise unremarkable moment.
If you were to read the note, it would be clear that not everything of significance is in there- sometimes it was too subtle an observation and more often, it was information I wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge. You would also see a mess of data including dates with series of repeating number sequences (angel numbers), animal sightings (owls, monarchs, herons, pelicans, hummingbirds, wolves, deer/fawns, bear), chance encounters, quotes and wisdom I came across at the exact moment I needed it (Yung Pueblo, I’m looking at you!), novels set in significant locations in my life (e.g., listening to Remarkably Bright Creatures while driving toward the Puget Sound for the first time), that time I missed the exit for a rest area and the next one I stopped at brought me to stumble upon “the best whale watching day of the season” where I stood for hours and shared the joy with a number of strangers I’ll never see again, and more.
The more attention I paid to the sparks, the more plentiful they seemed to be. I knew it was like buying a new car and then walking out of the grocery store into the parking lot and seeing 3 of the same cars in the exact same color. They had been there, but I hadn’t been paying enough attention. From the moment I learned about synchronicity in grad school, I’ve learned to weight the scales toward believing rather than reverting to the comfort of ‘coincidence.’ In this space of dreaming more expansive dreams, this practice of noticing has been the most reliable path toward transformation. Deepak Chopra reminds us “Attention energizes, and intention transforms. Whatever you put your attention on will grow stronger in your life. Whatever you take your attention away from will wither, disintegrate, and disappear. Intention, on the other hand, triggers transformation of energy and information. Intention organizes its own fulfillment.”
Recently through the current intensive at Writing in the Dark, For the Joy & the Sorrow, I read Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights. Jeannine and Gay are influencing my noticing practice and tuning the noticing toward delight, which admittedly some days feels impossible. When delight is too far to grasp, I fall back to my existing practice of noticing synchronicity.
My favorite recent moment of synchronicity was with Woz Flint, who offered a digital copy of her book, The Distraction-Free First Draft, in the most recent edition of Writing in the Dark classifieds (comments for paid members, so join us!). I said heck yes to the offer, because my attention has been admittedly sucked into the black hole of social media more than I care to admit as of late, and headed over to the book description. “And then a typewriter, a tool any writer can easily find — online, in your favorite thrift store, in your Great-aunt Lola’s cluttered and drafty but treasure-packed attic — enters your life. You can no longer instantly backspace and delete. At first this feels foreign, but then you feel free.”
A typewriter! Ramon aka P.P.F.H. (Self-appointed Pop-pop From Hell) or D.P.P.F.H. (Daddy Pop-pop From Hell, a combination of titles) was the typewriter user in my life and his teachings have been ever-present in my mind as I’ve been contemplating next steps in life and the concept of legacy (ok maybe I AM talking about turning 40 after all!). One thing that I have learned is that it is rarely wasted to share that I’m feeling the spark of synchronicity when another human is involved. I sent Woz one of the classic PPFH with a typewriter photos in his renovated school bus. The following exchange ensued:
The same typewriter. Of all the typewriters he owned and kept or left with friends or family, THE SAME TYPEWRITER!
I cried. I miss him. He was SO damn curmudgeonly at times. Mostly after the second martini. Still, he paid attention. He sent a typewritten letter from one of his many typewriters every birthday, within some vague vicinity of the actual day, allowing for slow post coming from whatever beach hut he happened to be writing from. This was my second birthday without the letter. It would have inevitably jested at my being unmarried and (relatively) jobless and flitting around the country. All of which he influenced and was proud of me for. He also would have been my #1 cheerleader for this next adventure (yes, I’m being intentionally vague and will update you all in due time!). He’d be going through his address book and making connections between me and all of the other folks he kept in touch with through his yearly birthday letters, introducing me to every human who might have interest in what I’m doing or a nugget of advice for me. That’s who he was and what I’m carrying forward is the unrelenting commitment to noticing what matters to folks, and taking the opportunities, however brief to connect with them. Because now more than ever, we need kindness and we need connection and we need that momentary reminder that both can be achieved in tiny doses with great impact.
For your listening pleasure: The above voicemail is one of many from my grandfather in which he cheerfully says “My granddaughter! Just calling to see how you’re doing with my Redwoods, haha, gimme a call when you can.”
Which brings me to ‘Green Tag Tax.’ The story goes like this:
Picture me, wandering around the country in 2023, by myself. Everywhere I went, calling out to strangers with enthusiasm-
Hi!
Hello!
How’s it going?
Long after moving back to Maryland in 2007, I was told a story about my younger self. We (Mom, Step-dad (Robby), & I) moved from Maryland to Vermont when I was 5. With the majority of the rest of the families still in Maryland, we visited often. Robby shared that while I was still young, they brought me to Fells Point, a historic shipping port in Baltimore, MD. It still rocks (dad jokes FTW) cobblestone streets along the water and became the axis of my life for much of my late twenties.
Apparently Young Cassidy said hello, a lot, to every person we walked by in Fells Point. Young Cassidy was used to Vermont social norms which dictate that you wave to anyone you vaguely know driving/walking/riding by. You say hi to anyone you come across, anywhere, anytime. I have no recollection of this moment. What I can picture is this 5 year old chubby cheeked, tie dye rocking, blondie version of me stepping up from the cobblestone street onto the sidewalk and making eye contact with every (much taller!) passerby, and calling out with a chipper greeting.
“You can take the girl out of Vermont, but you can’t take Vermont out of the girl.”
You cannot. Most notably exemplified by ‘Green Tag Tax.’ One of my unconscious noticing practices has been to look for Vermont License Plates wherever I go. If you have Vermont tags, and I see your vehicle anywhere outside of Vermont, I’m going to wave. Sometimes when I visit Vermont, I excitedly wave there too, before remembering where I am and then reminding myself it is normal to wave to everyone!
Looking for the familiar green license plates was second nature as I explored new places by myself. If I happened to see one in a campground, I’d casually (do I do anything casually?) wait the occupants to be out and about and introduce myself, declare my part-time Vermonter status (despite the Maryland crab license plate suggesting otherwise), and get a conversation going.
Almost every time, it was received well. In Nashville, I was checking out and found my first flat tire of the trip. My neighbors on both sides were Vermonters and one couple had chatted with me on the shuttle the evening before, at which point we made a plan for them to borrow a tool they needed to repair some unfortunate drive-by big-rig damage to their truck. When the husband came to collect the tool, he realized I had a flat, and offered to change it FOR me. Not with me, but for me so that I wouldn’t be late checking out (not that late check-out was a problem since I had befriended the campground host). They explained that they almost always have kids or grandkids on their journeys, and quite frankly were bored and their mimosas could wait. I was prepared with all the tools to change the tire and AAA RV+ and at least one other roadside assistance program. I was not prepared for the generosity of strangers that made me feel slightly less alone in a city that I had not intended to travel to alone, nor would recommend doing so. Asheville, heck yeah, go solo and you will never feel alone. Nashville is a group-centric place and I stepped WAY out of my comfort zone to explore it solo. Alas, the Vermonter neighbors sent me on my way with a much needed dose of connection.
In Yosemite National Park, I camped near a retired couple who rocked the green tags and in a place with no cell service, they became my campground buddies, unofficial tour guides, and butterfly watching companions.
There was that one family in Banff who camped across the road from me, and were completely uninterested in my exuberant attempt at connection. Maybe they are the outlier, or maybe they were stressed because they discovered they had parked in the wrong site.
Last but not least was Sparky. Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park was one of those day-trip only stops while hauling ass to make it back for PPFH’s memorial. I managed to visit four national parks in five days, hiked in three of them, and clocked ~2100 miles of driving. No, I didn’t sleep much. Yes, it was worth it.
That day I scored one of the last parking spots in the small trailhead lot where I hoped to stretch my legs and do a short hike. As I walked to the trailhead I saw a truck with green tags and excitedly waved to the driver. Later on the trail I got to chatting with a man who was hiking at about the same pace as me. He told me about his sons and having been a teacher. He asked where I went to school and said “oh, a Highlander!” Who would know our high school mascot?! Sparky would, because it turns out he was a teacher at U-32, one of our ‘rivals’ (not that I cared about sports). As we parted at the end of the trail, I remembered the truck with Vermont plates and mentioned there must be three of us out here today. Nope! It was Sparky I had waved to earlier, neither of us realizing it during our trail chat.
So I’ll keep waving. In a simultaneously vast yet incredibly small world filled with tiny threads of connection, it is worth the moment of directed attention. The briefest of these interactions and tiny kindnesses has held the power to break through moments of fear and loneliness on my solo journeys. They are the patch of blue sky in an otherwise cloudy sky amidst an unrelenting series of grey days. When I feel there is nothing else I can control, I can choose to be the patch of blue for a stranger who may very well be surrounded by clouds.
Reader Invitation 💌:
What is YOUR version of Green Tag Tax? A sticker you see on a car or water bottle that urges you to spark up a conversation with a stranger. The sports team gear that prompts you call out to a stranger in the airport.
Land Acknowledgement: This newsletter was written and published while spending time on the lands of the following Indigenous Peoples: Clackamas; Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians; Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde; and Cayuse, Umatilla & Walla Walla. I recognize the many forms of harm and violence that occurred for me to have the privilege to write here today. I thank those who originally cared for this land and in many cases continue to do so in resistance to the continued damage to the lands and waters via practices and laws maintained by colonizers.
Still reading?! Great, you win the bonus of reading one of my ultimate favorite PPFH birthday letters, which to my absolute delight re-discovered in this moment that it contains his musings on the “deleterious effect” of the switch from typewriters to emails. How synchronistic ✨
Extra bonus- the tone was so casual until the roast by comic.
In case anyone was wondering...typewriters really are magic. :)