Karma Chameleon

February 29, 2012

I may have mentioned that I am extremely lucky in past posts.  I am.  I am very fortunate in my life, professional and personal, and I don’t take it for granted – ever.  I believe that sending positive energy out into the world will bring exponentially positive things back to me, and as far as I can tell, it works.  Since breaking free of the requisite evil teenager phase, I have tried very hard to do only good things and to appreciate all I have in this life. Not only do I try to make others happy because it makes me happier, but because the world becomes a better place when positivity is paid forward.

Or maybe my luck is all a coincidence.

When I was in my internship, I was told, “There are no coincidences.”  At the time, I was not terribly open minded (though I thought I was), and I thought that admitting to my own spirituality meant that I was on the road to religious extremism.  Following internship, I made peace with my spirituality and read a wonderful book (given to me by my internship director and which I have since paid forward to a dear friend) called The Celestine Prophecy.  My four line synopsis is: “There are no coincidences.”

Was it a coincidence that when a table full of idiots I was waiting on (during college) walked out on a $200+ tab, one of them, who had left earlier, had accidentally left behind a backpack with John Hancock employment papers in it? (The “short-version” result: Thanks to local police, I got my money back plus a 20% tip and no one was charged with the misdemeanor that they committed).

Was it a coincidence that two weeks after my guitar was stolen out of my office, I went to the place I got it from to buy a new one and was shown my own guitar, complete with the same serial number and chipped varnish on the head? (The “short-version” result: I did not have to pay more money for my guitar, and I even got my Levy’s gig bag back).

Those questions will never be answered, so I just have to believe.

Believe in what, you ask?  I don’t even know. Maybe if I treat people well, I will be rewarded somehow.  If I follow my own ethical and moral guidelines, I will find peace and understanding and tolerance and grace for people who have missed the boat.  I just have to believe that good things will happen to me if I do good things.  Which brings me to the main but generally insignificant point to all of this philosophical jibber-jabber.

Today I got a new contract.  At a fabulous Assisted Living in the small, on-site residential dementia program there.  Alongside an activities coordinator with a master’s who knows what music therapy is. Working with clients who will be capable of participating in all the kinds of interventions and exercises my training and expertise has to offer (sorry about the sentence fragments). I’m ecstatic.  I really shouldn’t be this excited, since I get new contracts frequently and I’ll only be going there every other week to start, but I just experienced such a great energy from every aspect of my meeting/interview/audition, and as James Brown once exclaimed, “I FEEL GOOD!”

I cannot be given full credit for most of my contracted work because things tend to fall in my lap.  Don’t get me wrong, I really really appreciate that, because I have not been a very motivated advocate for myself, but this job came about because I actually tried.  I made the call on a whim during a ten minute break on Tuesday afternoon.  The woman called me back the next afternoon, wanted to schedule a meeting for today and said she would be “delighted” to talk to me about starting a MT program in her dementia unit.  Delighted!  Has anyone ever said that to me about starting an MT program? You can guess what the answer is there…

Something feels different in the air today.

Earlier, at the geri-psych unit, I gave a 5o-something year-old a choice between “Love Me Tender” and “I’m a Believer.”  He chose the latter and we sang it while he quietly listened and tapped his feet to the song.  Following the session, I turned on the TV for the remaining patients.  I skipped over three “bad news TV” channels and stopped on one that wasn’t showing horrible images of horrible events.  “Davy Jones, 66, Dies of a Heart Attack” was on the banner at the bottom of the screen and the next several minutes were full of exclamations and saddened Baby Boomer nurses.  I JUST played “I’m a Believer” ten minutes before that!  Strange.

I was watching the latest episode of “Modern Family” a little while ago and one of the characters opened the door to two men, half-dressed like the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz and holding masks.  The dialogue went as follows:

Man 1: Hey.

Man 2: Hey –

Man 1 & 2: We’re the Monkeys.