To complement the quote on Providence that my dad sent me, I must write a bit on good fortune. I will start with the short version: I live a charmed life.

The long version goes like this:
I grew up in northern California, in a little town called Nevada City, which is nestled in the Sierra foothills between Sacramento and Lake Tahoe. No, it’s not in Nevada. I’ll gloss over the details of my childhood, except to say that I have a wonderful family — my parents are both supportive, caring, intelligent, interesting people, and I’m luckily stuck plop in the middle of two sisters. My older sister has been living in Europe for the past eight years, cultivating a life there with her sweet husband; my younger sister is currently taking up residence in my living room while finishing school and following her dream as she interns for FWS’s Condor Rehab program. Growing up, armed with crackers and salami and my engineer father’s “state of the art” video camera, we were dragged through the woods of northern California in the name of family togetherness. I won’t even go in the caravan road trips to such venues as the Grand Canyon and Canada, where we threw CB radios into the mix and upgraded the experience to a “vacation”; meanwhile, our peers were staying in hotels at Disneyland and actually enjoying themselves (“are we there yet? I have to pee!” over the radio and license plate bingo were certainly not in their consciousness). My parents appreciation for dirt paths and bumpy roads, propane-fueled gadgets, and unparalleled wild vistas far superseded any joy offered by pricey destination packages peddled by travel agents and glossy television ads alike.

So we grew up without fences, barefoot in the woods, learning to swim in hot springs, enjoying real snow cones with maple syrup on our snow days and a growing collection of freckles in the summertime. I knew what I was missing out on — my uncreative girl scout troop took me on my very first trip to a mall before Christmas one year, wherein I bought a stuffed bird that played a sad version of a bird call when pressed. But I remember the time my little sister packed dresses for a pack trip into Hoover Wilderness, and the banana slugs on Vancouver Island, the sensation of the sleeping bag lined truck bed jostling under my bum, and all of the snow-bent tree trunks that we played horsey on with much greater fondness. I think of those experiences as a part of me, as woven into the fabric of me. I firmly believe that my parents “got it right” on that front — I’m even somewhat grateful for the intrusion of my dad’s video camera now when I watch our family trips on DVD, despite the opportunity it obviously presented us to perfect our eye rolls and glares long before puberty.

I’ve been living in Santa Barbara for over a decade now, and I love it. I hightailed it from my hometown after graduation, hoping to be close and far simultaneously, and largely because we used to spend Christmases camping on the beach here. I’ve come to appreciate the chaparral and sand fleas in their own right, especially come winter when the sun actually shines. Sure, it’s expensive here and most of my peer group are forced to export themselves in order to find gainful employment elsewhere, but I’ve been quite lucky to have stability on both fronts. Not that life doesn’t have its ups and downs, but you know that proverbial little black cloud? It’s like I have a sunshiny cloud instead.

At one of our recent weekly girl nights, my girlfriend Stevie invited a male friend of hers who reads Tarot cards. Typically we make dinner and drink wine and catch up, so this was a departure from our norm, and one that I hadn’t anticipated. I’m not one who subscribes to mysticism, but I was willing to play along — superstition has a little footing after all, and I’ll be the first to throw salt over my shoulder if I spill it. After each of my friends had sat with Laszlo, asking questions about love and money, I took my seat and cut the deck. Naturally, the trail was on my mind as I drew my cards, though Laszlo had no background info on this. He laid out my cards, and told me it was a beautiful reading. He told me there was someone who had been bad with money, but there was stability now. In my consciousness, I feel like things in my life are very good; in my subconscious, they are even better. In the past, I have struggled, but I have always taken the higher ground. In the near future, I will carry a burden, but it won’t be unbearable. My role in it will be the magician, I will be resourceful and use the tricks up my sleeve. I will leave something behind, but I will be ready to let it go. Any challenges I have I will overcome, they will not be impossible. The outcome will be a success. And so I have been blessed by the cards.

My lucky break, I guess. I wake up and am grateful to be alive, grateful to know what matters to me and to be able to revel in it and pursue it. I am surrounded by amazing people — my family, my friends, the woman who picked us up the other morning when we decided to “loop” a hike (thanks, Robin!); I am blessed with their support and guidance, and it means so much to me to be believed in unconditionally. Providence, in conjunction with the Universe, has provided unequivocally for me, and I am the beneficiary of overwhelming goodness. This hike is a culmination of those family camping trips in the meadow and each lucky break I’ve been afforded along the path to where I am now. Once I decided to make this hike really happen, I feel like everything has fallen into place more or less perfectly. It just adds to the excitement! And I’m off now to go knock on some wood…