She swirled the wine in her crystal glass and gazed out the bay window. With a satisfied smile, she watched the flame catch hold of her father’s obituary. I am grateful.Erica tossed a match in the massive fireplace of her new log cabin vacation home. Thinking of individuals who planted the corn, watered the soil, picked the yams, and plucked the cranberries, I acknowledge their labors and lives, feel the connection and hope for an enveloping ‘us,’ and wrap the homeless volunteer mailperson and his helper in my appreciative embrace. Meditating on the cogs in the wheel of this delayed special delivery blends with the mindful eating I am practicing this Thanksgiving. It is, thankfully, a small, karmically-wired, miraculous world after all. What will happen next? Does the letter have more stops in its journey to e-maildom, recycling, and beyond? Will it lead the son and the letter writer’s children to explore old family secrets and create a new chapter together? The envelope headed for burial was resuscitated the family involved was bestowed a holiday gift of reconnection. He and his helper tripped through time, connecting someone who had passed in Ohio to his nephew in California.
The homeless former mortgage broker mindfully saved the message.
The letter escaped past palm trees and pools, landing at the roots of an old redwood tree.
#A twisted tale of karma movie
Maybe the Goodwill truck turning on a canyon curve got jolted by a BMW or Bentley barreling to a meeting at a movie studio in Studio City.
The envelope must have been parted with by her along with the house, possibly in a box donated to Goodwill, ironically the name of the oldest son mentioned in the letter. It turned out that the young doctor to whom the letter was addressed in1953 had died in his late 70’s after a fruitful altruistic career as a pediatric surgeon his widow had just sold their longtime home at age 86. After much fantasizing and discussing, a relatively rational explanation surfaced. Jackie drove the envelope through atypically storm-drenched Los Angeles canyons, facing dangerous flooding to deliver it to the recipients’ son. She was a longtime friend of their son, whom she met in another city, a man who was not even born at the time the letter was written. Coincidence or Karma - Jackie recognized the names of the husband and wife to whom it was addressed. How could it have survived for so long? For those of us who’ve longed to find a way into another dimension, this had the makings of a miraculous gift.īut this Thanksgiving tale twisted like the canyon in which its letter had landed. Even more strangely, the postmark read ‘1953’ - 58 years ago! Talk about snail mail.
Raul thought to deposit it in a mailbox, but there was only a six-cent stamp on the right-hand top. Raul showed the rescued envelope to his friend Jackie, wondering what to do. Raul’s eco-cause inspired a canyon homeowner, Jackie, to become his advocate and helper. A former mortgage banker and homeowner, Raul now spent his days cleaning his new ‘outdoor community home,’ Coldwater Canyon, a hilly wooded area between Beverly Hills and Studio City. The letter was found by homeless man Raul Flores. And yet, it really happened, once upon this time.Ī few days ago, a thin envelope floated down out of the blue onto the grounds of “The Tree People,” an environmental non-profit refuge in concrete Los Angeles. It could be the beginning of a time-travel Thanksgiving tale: Connectedness = Karmic Gratitude.