Yesterday, I got a lovely lesson from the
universe, and the best parking ticket EVAH. I mean, the last one wasn’t bad. I
was in Sheffield, parking at the hospital in pretty intense times, I read the
sign wrong and got a ticket.
I asked a parking attendant about it the next
day, just checking what the rules were in that area and he gave me two gifts.
The first, that parking attendants check the position of your air valve to
determine whether or not you’ve moved your car.. like a clock face. So even if
you move your car a few feet forward and the valve position changes, you’re
considered to be ‘new’ in a parking area.
And second, - it was Christmas Eve after all –
this festive tip. “I’m not supposed to tell you this,” he said, “but everyone’s
off till New Year’s Eve. There’ll be no parking attendants in the whole of
Sheffield. Park where you like. Park on double yellows. You won’t get a ticket.
There’ll be nobody on duty to give you one.” And smiling, off he went.
I’ve been working like buggery on this
abundance mindfulness stuff and I have to say, I’ve found it rousing and I
spend my time enthused and full of a sense of possibility. I’ve started a
delightful practice of leaving a shiny pound coin in entertaining places, for a
stranger to find and every day I find a more pleasing place to put it.
I’ve also made a commitment to speak positively
and with this same enthusiasm and excitement about all the work and wealth that’s
all around me. I remind myself that I’m sitting on a flat that’s worth about
£250,000 in the right market, and that I am ridiculously well equipped to earn lots
of tasty money to do good things with. I catch myself when I start with ‘I can’t
afford...’ anything, because I know that my words are broadcast through the
fibre of the universe and that they create the reality I’m living.
Yesterday morning, though, I had a relapse. I
heard myself say ‘I’m not sure I can afford it’ to a friend. She talked me
round, mainly by reminding me of the depth of connection that I’d be flying
towards, rather than focusing on the money outlay. The universe, however, had
its ears pricked.
When I finished our call, I planned to take the
dogs out for a wee. I was going to the back garden, but I’d left the key
upstairs, so outside we went. I had every chance to remember that, like every
morning, my car was parked in a zone where it needs to be moved by 8.30. It was
possibly about that time when I went out, but did I go that way? No, no I didn’t.
I walked them the back way to do wees on their favourite shrubbery and then on
towards the park before suddenly remembering the car and legging it back to
find a big fat parking fine slapped on the windscreen.
Even as I ran towards the car, I was grinning. I
felt elated. I kind of knew there’s be a ticket. Part of me hoped there wouldn’t
but a bigger part was hoping that there was. I mean, that’s pretty clear as far
as signs go, right? And I love a bit of meaning in the mundane, me. So there it
was. I really was properly glad that it was there. I assumed it would be £35,
and instead it was only £30.
I paid it immediately and felt truly joyful
about it, knowing that I COULD pay it, and knowing it would come back to me
many times over. I was hoping to speak to someone, but it was an automated line,
so I paid it, smiling, and radiating gratitude for the abundance to pay for it.
I did feel a pang of desire to speak to someone, so when I saw a parking
attendant on my street five minutes later, I bounded up to him and said
“I think you gave me a ticket today, and I just
wanted to let you know that it made my day!”
He looked at me as though I was an idiot, or possibly a psychopath about
to pull a knife.
“How?” he said, with absolute incredulity.
“It’s a long story,” I said, “and I want to get
back to the dogs, but look at my face – genuine joy. So thank you.” And then I
bounded off again, like a puppy after a ball.
It really was the best parking ticket ever. I
might frame it, just to remind me. I think I will.
