The Toronto Blue Jays got spanked 19-1 yesterday by the Houston Astros, but it was one of the most enlightening days I have ever spent at the SkyDome.
I bought the tickets to the game at the last minute, because the idea to go was very last minute. The notion originated in the mind of the seven-year old boy who just happens to sublet with us. He is currently unemployed, so he pays rent with hugs and his boundless energy.
There were no tickets to be had at the MLB website, but I did find some second-hand seats that were decent on stubhub, but it was in US funds, and there was hidden usury fee attached.
After some mental stretches I decided to get them anyway, but somehow I couldn’t because, I was blocked by the stubhub server. I kept getting an error message.
I don’t know why. I don’t know how. The following course of events, brought me to another provider, one that I had never heard of before but one that was reputable and didn’t charge any extra fees. TickPick turned out to be quite the find, and I highly recommend them, if you need tickets.
I only mention them because negative thoughts about the purchase kept pricking me the entire drive to Toronto. I saw visions of being told that the tickets were fake. Of the disappointment on my son’s face, when despite coming early, he wasn’t going to get his Aaron Sanchez bubblehead. I was preparing myself for the endless phone calls I would have to make to MasterCard, and whoever else would listen, to recover my defrauded money.
I even put money in my wallet so that I could quickly buy some tickets from scalpers, so as not to disappoint my young and eager companion.
Thankfully, these days, my thoughts rest in the ideas of possibilities, and I valiantly fought the urge to get sucked in by those negative thoughts. It was hard. They just kept on coming in waves and waves. Relentless.
What a relief it was to be finally inside the stadium, without incident.
The game was great, despite the score.
Spending an entire day with my son, gave me immeasurable that even now tears are welling up inside my eyes. I cannot cry, because I am at Tim Horton’s enjoying my post morning coffee, and this display of affection would look quite freakish.
I should mention that we had met some wonderful people.
(Another benefit of dreaming, and seeing the good)
The nice lady sitting behind us offered my son some treats when there was really no need to do so, except for the fact that we are all human and it is a nice thing to do.
The gentleman to our left was celebrating his birthday, and was quite the chatter mouth. We weren’t missing anything by not having a radio, as he provided a unique minute by minute analysis of all the major plays.
The people on our right were in great spirits as well and all in all, it was a beautiful day.
I should mention the young woman who was sitting two rows in front of us but was not having a good time. At one point, I saw her take a picture of the score, near the end of the game, and write ‘lame’ on top of the picture, as she posted it on her Instagram feed. I only mention her because the point I am trying to make is that despite being at the same game and sitting only a few feet away from each other, our experience of reality was totally different.
I couldn’t have been happier, despite the score. She couldn’t be more miserable.
One more observation, if I may.
I don’t gamble. I don’t see the sense of it.
Before I am accused of being a dishonest, I do need to confess that I religiously contribute $5 to our office Lotto Max pool, because I don’t want to be the poor sack, who is the only one that needs to keep working.
This was strange.
Throughout the day, this tall, middle-aged woman, with a booming voice, kept announcing and selling the prospect of winning the 50/50 jackpot. She kept repeating the idea that the surest way to lose, was simply not to play. She kept talking about the endless possibilities of winning and I since ran into her several times throughout the day, I took this for a sign from the Universe.
I was going to win.
I couldn’t be cheap when I knew I would win, so I bought a string of 40 numbers, for $20.
I lost.
The $56,607 jackpot went to someone else.
But I didn’t really lose.
I didn’t see the lesson.
Throughout the game, I truly believed the money was mine. I imagined and was totally convinced that it was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed to everyone else.
This is amazing to me, as I am a very skeptical person, or at least I was. I would have never imagined the possibilities of winning. (If you read my post about the ten minas, you will have a deeper understanding of what I mean).
I didn’t win the jackpot, but the fact remains that I dreamed.
I really dreamed and believed.
It turns out that the Universe was telling me something else. It wasn’t telling me that the jackpot was mine. It delivered the message that if I don’t play, I won’t win.
I played.
This very entry is an clear indication that I am now playing. The opportunity clock rang this morning at 4:02 am, and that also is an indication that I’m playing. My morning workout is an indication as well.
I realize that I’m on the right track.
I need to keep shipping my work. Good or bad.
Others need to see it.
The rest I will leave up to God.
