At the moment of commitment, the Universe conspires to assist you. Part two.*

On December 16, 2019, I watched my mother take her last breath on earth. Despite the sorrow, it was an honor to midwife her over to the other side.

I learned something surprising that day.

In the same way that you bond with the people who witness a soul coming into the world, is the same way you bond with those who are with you when you watch one go out.

So it was when I witnessed my mother’s death with my younger brother.

The instant my mom crossed, my brother and I moved up to the top tier, becoming the next in line to exit the planet. Given the heightened bond from being together at her deathbed, plus the dismal understanding about us being next-up, I felt we should spend more time together, and my brother agreed.

My family of origin moved from Long Island to Florida in the early 70s. They remained there, but I hated Florida, so I moved to a different state as soon as I came of age.

However, now that my mother was gone, being with my brother seemed more important than where he was located. With that in mind, I rented a second home near his place in Clearwater, Florida.

It was a cute little studio apartment sitting right on the Gulf of Mexico. My plan was to spend as much time there as Funk’s work schedule would allow and then manage it for the landlord as a furnished-rental when we commuted back to DC.

The strategy worked, to a degree. The landlord and I made a ton of money, because, for some reason, I was really good at overseeing his rental. But the extra money was only an unexpected bonus. My main purpose for being in Florida was to be with my brother, yet for unknown reasons, he was only able to get together with me three times that year.

Zoom back in time twelve years.

In 2006, with an empty nest on the horizon, I decided to go after one of my dreams—building little houses in the woods for the just-dumped woman.

Instead, Funk ruined our life by running for mayor.

Zooming forward, in 2021, two things happened. One, the idea of building my little houses began smoldering again. And a short while later, I was given the first right of refusal to purchase that studio in Florida.

Since I was making good money, even with sharing the profits, buying the place seemed like a no-brainer. Funk being in his 70s, the proceeds from the rental would go a long way towards him being able to retire someday. Just as I was about to jump off the cliff, something stopped me from signing the contract.

My heart was doing cartwheels trying to get my attention.

I mean, the sole reason for being in a place I hated was to be with my brother. Since that wasn’t happening, and since I was given an opportunity on a proven-investment, why wasn’t I jumping at the chance?

Mulling that question over for a few days, I finally concluded that if I was going to shell out big money, I should spend it on something I really wanted—building my little houses—even if my dreamed had morphed into grouping the houses together and making it into an artist retreat.

Listening to my gut for a change, I called a realtor in Hawai’i to ask why the status of an oceanfront piece of land that I’d been tracking for three years was still pending, especially given how underpriced the parcel was.

The listing agent was shocked that I’d called.

He wanted to know how I knew that just the day before, the buyer had backed out of the contract and that he was just about to re-list it?

My response? I didn’t know that I knew!

As always, the Universe loves toying with me. A few hours after that exchange, a ready-made retreat came on the market. Since it was only two miles up the road from the land in question, purchasing it seemed the prudent thing to do.

I agonized over which of the three properties to choose.

Of course, Funk was away. That bastard is always gone when I need him! This time, he was having the time of his life with his Frat Brothers at their annual boys-weekend-without-the-wives.

Back to the moment of commitment. And I mean really committing. With your soul, not with your brain.

I hate Florida. The ready-made retreat wasn’t EXACTLY where I wanted to be in Hawai’i. The oceanfront piece of land was tiny, yet large enough to house a retreat—more, it WAS exactly where I wanted to locate in my beloved Hawai’i.

And practical or not, I went with my passion.

Being prone to self-doubt, I double-checked my decision. Alone in my apartment, I walked over to the painting that said-bastard-husband had gifted me and asked the Hawaiian ancestor it depicted if I was making the right choice.

I never received such a visceral confirmation before!

I know it sounds cliché, but the hair on my head raised so high that it felt like it was vibrating, and the sensation traveled all the way down to my feet. My heart was pounding from getting such an undeniable response. I took it as a resounding yes!

Short of breath, I called Funk and asked what he thought.

Usually, Funk isn’t much help when I’m indecisive. He just goes along with whatever I want, not really caring one way or the other. This time though, with his Frat Brothers all about him, he yelled into the phone, “Gloria, hang up the phone and get a contract going on that land!”

Here’s to you! if you also torment yourself when given the choice of going with your heart or playing it safe. I believe Spirit sent a trail of breadcrumbs that begged the answer, “Will she choose right?” Once I decided to go with my passion, the Universe conspired to make it happen.

Against all odds, I won the bidding war on that oceanfront piece of land, where one day, my artist retreat will finally have found its home—and it will be built in the EXACT location where I want to be in Hawai’i.

The Photo: My Hawaiian ancestor. During one of the worst moments in my life, he made himself known to me. And just to make sure that I knew he was real, the day before leaving Hawai’i for the mainland, I happened on this painting of a Hawaiian ancestor, poised in the same stance that mine presented himself to me, staff and all. And while mine had faced me, this photo has him facing forward. A Hawaiian kahuna said he was facing the future—meaning, another yes-response to me finding a way to come home to Hawai’i.

*Johann Wolfgang von Goethe