The Gift From The Bottle

        I waited at the top of the hill for the traffic light to change from red to green. That’s when I noticed there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. San Francisco is famous for its fog during the summer months, so the shimmering azure skyline caught my attention. Initially, there was nothing unusual with this car ride. That all changed when I noticed the cloudless sky. Perhaps the clear sky was a metaphor for the fog lifting within me. 

        Angry from my divorce, I was still playing the blame game. I hadn’t yet made room for self-reflection. I raced as quickly as possible on the proverbial hamster wheel so that I wouldn’t have to think about my internal landscape. I was in my early thirties. My days were filled with early morning workouts, a quick change into the appropriate suit, and long days at a corporate job. Happy hours drowned out my unfulfilling work life, which inevitably extended well into the late night. Personal growth took a backseat to my escapist lifestyle. However, perhaps it was time to create an opening for the miraculous.

        As I drove along the familiar streets, I wrestled in my mind about how I needed to make a change in my life, but I couldn’t figure out what to do. That’s when I was struck by a memory from when I was three. Seated in the church pew with my parents, the priest held my attention as he did every Sunday, but my attentiveness was abruptly challenged when my mother grabbed my hand mid-sermon and pulled me out of the building. I left in confusion, while my queries as to why we were leaving were left unanswered. As religion of any kind was now out of the equation, it didn’t take long for my parents' amended views of the church to become my own. 

        From that time on, anytime the subject of God came up, I cringed and quickly changed the subject. God died for me that day. If there wasn’t scientific proof to back it up, I didn’t want to hear about it. 

        Now, here I was in my car, admiring the glorious sky, when, out of nowhere, goosebumps traveled across my body at rapid speed. Agnostic though I was, my body advised me to be on high alert. I placed both hands on the wheel and sat up tall in my seat. An inner expansion heightened my perception as I took in the street, the lights, and the various shapes of the buildings. I argued with myself because I wasn’t the woo-woo type. Yet, something was compelling me to pay attention. I felt that I’d crossed a threshold into another reality. The blue skies were the gateway. I hadn’t changed locations, but something was different. 

        I couldn’t put my finger on what I was feeling at first, until I realized that the normally bustling street was empty. People didn’t suddenly vanish into thin air. This wasn’t a Star Trek episode. No one beamed up into outer space. Yet, it was somehow wrong. I drove on this road nearly every day for years. The oddity was palpable. 

        I should have been seeing a myriad of activities in all directions, but on this day there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. There weren’t any pedestrians. There weren’t any other cars traveling in any direction nor were there the usual delivery trucks going to various stores to drop off their goods. There should have been people everywhere. And yet, I was alone. I may not have been in a Star Trek episode, but perhaps I had stepped into the Twilight Zone. 

        Even the normally crowded bus stop on the corner was eerily empty. The only thing missing from this ghost town was the music from one of Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti westerns.

        Maybe this emptying out of the city was yet another metaphor for the emptying out of me so that I could make room in my heart for something new.

        The next traffic light changed to red before I approached. I stopped to wait for my turn to go. Still on high alert, I noticed out of the corner of my eye an unopened two-liter plastic soft drink bottle. Never a fan of soft drinks, it surprised me how captivated I was with this one. Some unknown source compelled me to pay attention. 

        This bottle was not acting like a normal run-of-the-mill littered item. It seemed to have a mind of its own. It began to roll down the middle of the crosswalk that extended from one side of the street to the other. There wasn’t anyone there to give it a push nor was there any wind. Yet, it moved across the pavement like a tumbleweed moving through the desert. This scene enchanted me. This bottle held my attention. It was now the star of the show. 

        While the bottle continued its sojourn across the street, my traffic light changed color to green, inviting me to go, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I wanted to see how this scenario played out. Would the bottle make the six-lane journey? Still alone for as far as the eye could see, I decided to stay put. My inner cheerleader was rooting for this bottle. It continued its rolling adventure until it eventually centered directly in front of my car.

        That’s when everything changed. 

        In a single moment, in a mere blink of an eye, I heard the roaring of an engine coming from another car crossing the street perpendicular to my own. It came out of absolutely nowhere. My attention left the bottle as I now watched this new element on the scene. The car flew past in a blur, perhaps well over 100 miles per hour. The driver was racing with himself. He didn’t have any other cars in his way, nor did he bother to pay attention to the red light telling him to stop. 

        Stunned and terrified, my breathing momentarily became shallow until I quickly realized that had I not stopped for the bottle, I would have been in the intersection when the other car illegally sped through it. He would have hit me, on the driver’s side of my car. At the rate of speed he was driving, I likely would have been killed. However, the Universe had other ideas. The feeling I had in my body that heightened my awareness to notice the empty streets and to pay heed to a rolling bottle saved my life. It all seemed to have a purpose. 

        As the tears of joy ran down my face, I raised my hands in gratitude—to thank the angel who interceded on my behalf. Even though my heart had been closed to any thought of God for most of my life, a simple plastic bottle awakened me to the fact that there was something happening that was greater than my physical self. 

        That strange soft-drink bottle became a catalyst for me to remember my Soul’s life. While I still don’t drink most soft drinks, whenever I see a liter-sized bottle of soda, I remember there are miracles amid the mundane. I just need to slow down long enough to notice.