Courage & Integrity

A friend recently told me about moving from Brazil to London – without a job and with only enough money to last a few months. After two months, things were looking desperate. His girlfriend had joined him on this leap of faith and was depending on him to make it work.

Despite the pressure and uncertainty, he wasn’t worried. Intellectually, he knew he should be. But he felt calm – not the kind we fake when we’re really panicking inside, but a deep calm. A quiet certainty that everything would somehow work out.

He knew the reason for his calm, though it was not something he could share without seeming slightly unhinged. Before leaving Brazil, he’d had a dream: he saw himself working in London at what looked like an upscale spa. The dream was vivid – he saw the building, the décor, even the faces of his colleagues – though he had never been inside a spa, never been to London, had no context for what he saw. It was clear, he’d been given a glimpse of his future.

One day, while wandering the city aimlessly, he found himself in one of London’s “posher” areas – luxury shops, five-star hotels, the sort of place that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He had his headphones on, music loud, and was trying to find his way out of this area when he suddenly heard a voice. He looked around, but no one was there. The voice repeated, “look up.” He obeyed. And there it was – the building from his dream.

He pushed inside. It was a trendy hotel – the staff eyed him curiously; he didn’t look like their normal clientele. He asked if they had a spa. They did. He took the lift down, and when the doors opened, he froze. Everything matched the dream – the colors, the smells, the layout.

At the desk, he asked if they were hiring. They were. The posting had gone up that morning. And he had the right skills. He was hired on the spot.

That job led to clients who helped him start his own business. Within a year, he and his girlfriend had moved out of their temporary accommodations and were renting a flat in that same posh neighborhood. It was like something from a film – the kind of experience that makes you wonder how much of life is coincidence.

When he first told me this, I forced a smile, but I was burning. Why didn’t things like that happen to me? Why couldn’t I get clear signs pointing the way – or a calm voice reassuring me?

Most of us know people with stories like that, even if less dramatic. Someone thinks of a friend they haven’t spoken to in years, and that friend suddenly calls. Some call these moments coincidences. Others, synchronicities. I used to call them annoying – because they never happened to me.

I wrote about finding the two Buddhas in my last essay. It was the first time something like that happened to me. It wasn’t for lack of trying. I’d tried every “technique” imaginable to summon mystery into my life.

But about a month ago, something happened that still makes my head spin. The sort of thing my skeptical friends dismiss as coincidence, and my rational mind is still trying to explain away.

It was a Friday. I had spent the week editing two chapters of my book – Courage and Integrity. It had been a long, productive week. I was tired but proud of the work. To celebrate, I took the afternoon off and met an old colleague for coffee.

Catching up was pleasant but bittersweet. Conversations with people from my “past life” can sometimes stir regret. I gave up a stable career to pursue a creative path, and there’s been little to show for it thus far.

Afterward, I sat in my car for a moment to recalibrate, then took my usual route home – a road I’ve driven hundreds of times over the past five years.

I had not gone half a mile when I saw something odd. A man – a completely ordinary, middle-aged man – was standing on a street corner holding a sign. I’d never seen anyone hold a sign in that spot. I live in a fairly progressive college town, so people with signs are not unheard of, but they usually gather near campus. This was a quiet residential street with little traffic.

It was bizarre, so, I slowed to read it. In big black letters, it said:

“Courage and Integrity are the Keys.”

A car horn jolted me – in my shock, I had drifted into the next lane. I pulled over to the side of the road, my heart pounding. For a few seconds, I sat there, stunned. Then a deep calm washed over me. My eyes filled with tears. This was no coincidence.

Courage and integrity are the keys.