I love auspicious dates. I delighted at my prediction that a friend’s son would be born on 10.10.10. (She did not; baby boy was waaaay overdue). Earlier this year, I waited to sign an important contract until 7.7. But, today, the only thing that comes to mind is Drew Bledsoe, who famously wore #11 as the New England Patriots quarterback, before Tom Brady. I know, I know; this is largely a yoga site. But something tells me you know Mr. Brady (#12)?
We’re told we should make wishes today, which got me thinking to the last time I made a wish. It was August 15th. My birthday. Don’t feel badly if you missed it; I let this one flutter past without much fanfare. There were cupcakes, though, and good friends. Wonderful friends. People who don’t leave a whole lot left to wish for. I came up with something though.
Yet, as I groggily rolled over to shut off my inauspicious morning alarm, which sounded like an iPhone barnyard (crickets chirping, dogs barking, ducks quacking!), I thought back to that birthday wish. Upon closer reflection, it didn’t seem like much of a wish at all. It was more a state of being, maybe spirit. I’m too superstitious to reveal it, but I realized I didn’t need an external, cosmic force to provide it, and this prompted the following thought before my feet touched the floor:
It’s 11.11.11. Don’t make a life wish. Be one.
Happy 11.11.11, friends. May we all be fulfilled wishes for ourselves and each other.