“Isn’t this world a mysterious place?”
I nodded, smiling back at her in agreement. Just an hour earlier, I sold a dresser to this kind woman, and while I was situating her newly acquired centerpiece into her dining room, she asked if I did restoration work for hire. That I did, I told her. She then asked for my assessment of a handsome but distressed side table that I recognized from a popular late fifties and early sixties line from Lane Furniture. I squatted beside it to assess the damage. I’d be happy to refinish it, I told her, offering my price for the job. Sixty seconds later, the side table was in the backseat of my truck, and we were discussing the mysteries of existence.
“I had thought earlier today, ‘I really need to get that piece restored’ and then, here we are talking. That worked out great!”
It had worked out splendidly, and I’d been humbled; this wasn’t how I foresaw my day going, it was much better.
Sixty minutes before our meeting, I was sitting on the couch, taking a break to read The Razor’s Edge, when as I parted its pages open, my phone buzzed. It was the manager of the store where my showroom is located. A woman wanted to buy a dresser in my showroom, and he asked if I’d accept her offer. We negotiated briefly, swapping numbers via the manager, and the sell was complete. I stood from my couch, grabbed my keys, and left to fulfill the delivery, excited.
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I work on furniture every afternoon. I deliver furniture more days than I don’t deliver furniture. This was hardly an abnormal sequence. But fifteen minutes before the manager called, I was stuck at a fork in the day’s road, doubting how to proceed. My morning and early afternoon had been busy, productive, and efficient, yet, I still had several projects demanding more hours of effort. Part of me wanted to rest for fifteen minutes because I felt a weariness, sensing a deep, cautionary fatigue lurking. Another part of me demanded I blitz through the fatigue and dominate the remaining tasks of the day, afraid to rest for what it might say of my character. Labor omnia vincit (hard work conquers all), I repeated to myself. Subtly, I heard the truer voice within indicate a break was best. The harder choice was rest.
I chugged a glass of water, settled into my couch, opened my book, and felt myself relax. Within a few minutes, my weariness resolved. Then, the manager rang, I was fully present for the negotiation, and ultimately, I sold the most expensive piece of furniture I have. And I picked up a commissioned piece.
A mysterious world indeed.
A lot of what happened was random. In the future, the right decision at the fork will likely be to get to work and not rest. If I’d blitzed through my tasks yesterday, perhaps I’d have even more to show for my day. Or not. I don’t know.
What I do know is how good it was for me to see how things can work out better than I imagine they will. That if I remain open, the day can surprise me. Seeing something appear inside recovery and surrender, is a memory I’ll have at the ready to counter my tendency to force, push, and dominate life with self-will. Will power has been my fastball for a long time, but without a second pitch, I can be predictable. I can get hammered. I’ve already been hammered for my ignorance.
I cannot rely on self-will and get where I want to be. The game’s too complicated for that. The mystery, living just on the other side of fear, was a well-timed curveball, today.
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