An Empty Stomach is not a good Political Advisor

The four of us stuffed with Szechwan, giggling as we talked over one another, Bill picked up the little black tray to hand out the fine meals finale, the Fortune cookie.

Brina grabbed hers first. Joey and I still in conversation were stranded with the leftover. I was giddy with excitement dappled with a smidgen of terror. What a day.

It started with my signing lay-off papers at my financially stable corporate gig culminated in a surprise call from Brina, a friend of over 20 years. Surprise calls from Brina were the norm. A gypsy by decision, she had traveled cross-country more times than my Military family had in 26 years of service. A visit was usually preceded by her usual telephone call, "Hi gorgeous." The sultry voice was unmistakable. "Brina, I'm so happy you are here!" I definitely needed a pick me up. "I'm here alright, about one mile from your house. We've been traveling for 36 hours non-stop…" I stopped her cold, "Need a place to crash?" "Oh, honey, you read my mind."

Brina and I had met in a Photography class in college. I was her token "spiritual friend", therefore, not introduced around much to respectable people. Time has a way of changing all things. After a six month stint in an Ashram, meditating 8 to 12 hours a day, Brina her new Beau and traveling companion, Joey were knocking on my door for a weeks worth of stability.

"Take your fortune cookie." I liked Bill immediately. My eyes sparkled a silent thumb up, then I took my cookie. I wondered what kind of profound insight my cookie could be holding. I broke it open and stared unamused at the fortune; an empty stomach is not a good political advisor. I was irritated. I just lost my job, my entrepreneurial ventures were just starting to pay the bills and I was looking for a peak experience! I held the small white piece of paper in my hand, what the hell was I thinking. It was a FORTUNE COOKIE!

My house was in a shambles. Boxes from my work desk strewn across the floor, Christmas boxes still not stored lye on the living room floor. My guests exhausted and deeply in need of showers stepped right over my embarrassing mess. As each took their turn in the bathroom, I talked more at length with the others.

Bill was a veteran Transcendental Meditation teacher. Joey, fresh from Belgium had caught a ride with the couple to their ultimate destination, Northern California where a phenomenal software design position awaited him. It was the first time I had ever had the least interesting job in the room. Happy for them, yet uncertain about my own future, I sit quietly while Joey chatted continuously about work, his childhood in Belgium and unconventional upbringing. It was time to go hide in my bedroom.

The sun rose and morning broke, as did my depression. This didn't have to be a bad thing, I thought. One door closes, another opens. Maybe it's time to work for myself full-time. The more I thought about it the more I knew I was correct. If my lay-off had happened a month, even a week earlier I would have felt trapped. This was a good thing. I was convincing myself pretty well, the only stumbling block, a knot in the pit of my stomach the size of Pittsburgh.

Brina knocked on my door; "You busy today?" "No", I laughed, "I'm wide open."

Joey had never been to San Diego and wanted to do some sight seeing. He handed me license over the day's activities, so I drove him to my favorite area of San Diego, the North County Beaches. We rolled down the windows, gulping in fresh air while passing Cardiff beach just off highway 101.

"I'm gonna take you to Swami's" I smiled at his bemused look. "It's a North County Landmark."

Swami's is actually a stunning beach side Ashram founded by Parmahansa Yogananda, the guru who wrote, "Autobiography of a Yogi." Must reading for the eccentric college crowd in San Diego, a Mecca for anything New Age, Witchcraft Wiccan, or Mystical Eastern Spirituality.

Swami's or The Self-Realization Fellowship has the most beautiful garden setting in all San Diego. Being a city known for its luscious beauty, that is saying quite a lot.

Joey felt privileged, but I had ulterior motives. I needed a little peace, or at least semi-relief from the knot building in my stomach. I hoped for a quiet moment to meditate.

The gardens as usual were immaculate and stunning. Joey hung close to me as we checked out the fishpond, ocean view, and the house where the Monks live. I had no time for personal spiritual inquiries and decided I probably would get no peace that day. Might as well enjoy however I could.

Our next stop was at the other end of town, Ocean Beach. The funkiest town for two hundred miles, Ocean Beach is a draw for old hippies, happy slackers, and the only proper Tattoo Parlor and Head Shop around.

Joey was in heaven. We ran from shop to shop, trying on hats, sunglasses, buying up incense. Sunset was approaching and we both wanted at least a short walk on the beach. We made our way down to the water's edge and headed south toward the pier.

Off in the distance a flock of seagulls (not the band, actual Seagulls) was swarming around a lone woman. I watched a Seagull fly by and chirped, "Can't look at one of those birds without thinking of Jonathon Livingston Seagull, the book. I'm always looking for the lone Seagull who won't fly with the pack." Joey just smiled, a private knowing building inside him.

After a moment, we both saw the popcorn. The woman was tossing popcorn to the birds, creating the feathery stir. "Let's go ask for some popcorn." Joey had a glint in his eye, I just followed.

The woman, Sharon happily shared handfuls of popcorn with us both, her bag of treats so big she needed help with the disbursement.

We all threw handful after handful to the flying birds. They had caught the evening breeze just right and steadied themselves over our heads. Sharon was the first to notice that certain birds were getting the majority of the popcorn. "Look, this one keeps coming back. He's right in my face." Joey laughed," He's going to get his fill, smart bird. I wonder if they'll take the popcorn directly from my fingers." "Try it, just don't get your finger bitten off," I busily threw handfuls of popcorn out for the grounded birds, ignoring Joey, Sharon and their increasingly brave Seagulls.

That's when it happened. A lone Gull swooped down and took the popcorn directly from Joey's two-fingered grip. We all started laughing and cheering. The birds got braver and another flew in and grabbed popcorn from Sharon.

It was my turn, I had to feed one of those gulls the nouveau fingered way, or be dissed a sissy. I picked my bird and looking it in the eye, I held up a monstrous popcorn piece and said, "Come get it!"

The gull waved in the wind for a moment, holding itself steady against the evening breeze. I felt disarmed, slightly other worldly. The gull dove in and snatched the popcorn - and the moment was over.

"Oh my God! Did you see that? I guess fearlessness means being fed."

We all broke into laughter tossing handfuls of popcorn into the air until the contents of the bag were gone.

The Sun dipping into the ocean, Joey and I walked across the sand toward the beachfront walking area. Putting an arm around me he beamed a smile and snickered, " Yeah, I guess fearlessness does mean being fed, cause an empty stomach is not a good political advisor."

I had my answer. It was time to go fearlessly into the unknown. At 5:36 PM the knot in my stomach untied, I walked away from a life that no longer served me into one that was bringing me true joy.

Joey and I walked arm in arm back to my car.