The right place at the right time

A few years ago, I was having one of those days where I just knew that I was running late.

I had no actual appointments that day – nor any pressing deadlines. So, literally, there was no way that I could be late. But I knew, somehow, that I was behind where I should be.

I used to have lots of those days back then – unstructured days with unrealistically long to-do lists. Everything, maybe especially errands but really everything, took longer than I had allotted for it. As I went from one errand to the next, the tension would just ramp up in me as I pushed a little harder, with each failure, to keep up with my internal schedule.

On this particular day, I was especially behind the eight ball – particularly disappointed in my performance with the tasks I did at home, and then even more as I “ran” (now there’s an interesting word) my errands.

I finally kind of gave up. I didn’t “surrender to the flow” of my day. I didn’t forgive myself for being so ineffective. No, I just gave up – and entered a familiar state of feeling inept, scattered, maybe just one step this side of absolute loser.

Then something pretty amazing happened. I was walking down the street in Evanston, a north side suburb all the way across Chicago from Oak Park, the west side suburb where I lived, performing one last errand for the day – maybe number 7 out of 11 on my list. Since I had given up on success and resigned myself that this was the last thing I was going to accomplish this afternoon, I was walking a lot slower. I actually was more present to that particular moment than I had been all day.

As I was walking south down the street, coming up to a corner, I looked across the street and saw a young guy riding his bicycle north through the intersection. And, coming from the east, a car that had just barely slowed at his stop sign as the driver prepared to come through the intersection – directly into the path of the bicycle, which he obviously did not see.

They were about ten feet from each other when I involuntarily screamed – really loud. Each of them looked up from whatever daydream in which they were immersed – and the car slammed to a halt, maybe three feet from the bike. The cyclist continued through the intersection. The driver hesitated until the bike had cleared his path, then also resumed his trip.

I was almost immediately very relieved from the absolute fright I had just felt. As I resumed walking down the street, one thought grabbed totally hold of my mind: I had been in exactly the right place at the right time. Had I not been there to scream, there seemed no question that the car would have hit the bike rider – possibly rode over him.

This realization threw all my certainty of my behindness into a cocked hat. Had I not been walking down this particular street at this particular moment of time, a potentially very bad accident would have occurred – which I was now able to avert. So, what then of running late? Had I been more “efficient” with any of my tasks at home or any of my errands, I would not have been at that particular place at that specific moment.

I suddenly had to let go of my particular frame around this day. My certainty that I was “behind” had been completely wrong. I was very, very grateful that I had been exactly where I was.

I couldn’t help but extrapolate this new perspective. What if, on the other days that I had felt equally impatient with my forward momentum (which was most days back then), I had been equally wrong? What if on at least some of those days – even if I didn’t so obviously prevent an accident – being exactly where I was, when I was, was equally just right? Maybe, had my timing been different, I would have been the one to have the accident, or the car behind me would have been able to go faster and might have had an accident. Or whatever – all the infinite number of whatevers that might have occurred, were I not where I was, when I was.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. There was obviously no way to know any of this, but I couldn’t avoid speculating. While I couldn’t know “what if”, I suddenly trusted all my going-too-slow judgments a lot less. All I really knew was that, on this particular afternoon, I seemed to have been exactly where – and at the exact right moment – that I was meant to be.

This all happened maybe seven years ago, and I still think about it. It has become a kind of symbol for me. These days, when I feel like I am running late (which is actually lots less often now), I am likely to remember that moment – and it upends my certainty. I may not, in every instance, go all the way to trusting that all is well – but I’m a lot humbler about trusting the idea that something is not well.