Today is August 16th, 8/16, 888.
Alan has been wanting to do a post on all these 8 numbers that are popping up, but unfortunately hasn't had a spare moment to make that happen. I had no intention of posting anything but the universe had something else in mind for me today!
It all starts with my journey to Virginia from Chinatown, bright and early this morning. Of course my bus would be #888.
When the bus stops for a bathroom/snack break, my purchases come to a total of $4.66, which adds up to 16.
As the bus drops off and picks up passengers in Virginia Beach, I notice the bus building is Suite 16.
Suite 16 = Sweet 16?
Towards the end of the bus ride our seat assignments got jumbled up and from my new perspective, I notice someone in front of me reading a book called "Sizzling Sixteen."
Now I'm not familiar with the series, only that they have the numbers one through sixteen (so far) in the titles themselves.
Why do our toll-free phone numbers begin with 1-888?
Something else I would like to remark upon are the new ads lining the passageway between Times Square/42nd street train station and 42nd Street/PABT train station. Previously they had the M. Night Shyamalan "The Last Airbender" ads that blatantly spelled the letters SEX on them. Now I see alternating ads for the new movie "The American" interspersed with ads for American Apparel So I'm walking down the passageway and all I see is "American" "American" "American" "American."
And on postsecret.com, I found this postcard:
I'm terrified of those who are terrified of people in turbans.
My dear friend Morgan has a wonderful blog in which I found something so beautiful, I couldn't help but share with you. Let this be an inspiration to you as it was for me:
The Invitation, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon . . . YES!
It doesn’t interest me who you are or how you came to be here. I want to know if you can stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me what or where or with whom you have studied, I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in empty moments.
So much love,