Coincidence

How I failed to find God.

I was walking along a sidestreet in Madison, Wisconsin, having just done some T'ai Chi on the roof of the University Social Sciences lecture halls. This is not strictly relevant to the story but it had made me cheerful and tranquil and goes to explain my state of mind at the time of the 'incident' (may it please your honour). It was warm, it was sunny, it was my birthday, I was drifting happily along. I walked past a sheet of paper lying sideways on the sidewalk. I glanced at it but I wasn't able to make out what the small black type was about. Without breaking my stride I was unable to glean its meaning. I walked on.

At this moment, the thought struck me that it could have been a message from God. God could have left a set of instructions on Life, the Universe and all the rest lying there right where She knew I'd find it. It amused me hugely to consider the possibility that I had just walked past a personal message from the Supreme Being explaining all wonders of the world, specifically as they related to me.

Now you find this ridiculous. How could She fit all that onto one page? Well, the answers to the ultimate questions are probably beautifully simple & God is bound to have a succint prose style. (With this in mind, I would speculate that She didn't have a hand in writing any of the religious texts already in existence.)

I worried lightheartedly that I had missed the once chance I would be given this lifetime, that God had placed the essence of my existence in my lap in a handy bullet-pointed page long executive summary, but that I hadn't had time to read it. The explanations for why things are the way they are, or at least why they seem to be that way, all laid out in crisp black paragraphs.

This day-dream occupied me for a few steps further where I caught sight of another page of similar appearance and typeface. This time I was able to distinguish the headings and discern the subject matter. To my slight dissappointment but not surprise, it turned out to be somebody's photocopied study notes. The mundanity compounded by the fact that it was concerning basic principles of accountancy.

Ah well! I think we learnt something didn't we?

Anyway, the story does not stop there..

How I found Found, instead.

If you have never been to Madison, you should. Go and drink beer on the Union terrace. Watch the sunset over Lake Mendota ('the evening lake.') Try the ice-cream. Do the tour of the Capitol. Let me know and I will put you in touch with an amazing friend I made over there. A thoughtful, intelligent and enthusiastic guide to Madison and to life. Although, if she is not around or you are in a hurry to get there, you can ask anyone, they are universally friendly. (A little too friendly in the case of the 'boys' at Opus.) Visit Madison, the only city on an isthmus in the western hemisphere & if you liked that try Tampere, Finland, an excellent eastern isthmus city.

If you have been to Madison, you will have noticed the amazing bookshops. You won't have spotted them all; there are implausibly many. You wouldn't have time either; they are inexplicably good, each one I visited occupied me for ages. Bookworks on State St. had nine editions of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. (It had nine, it ain't got none no more, nossiree!)

Walking on from my brush with God, I turned straight into Canterbury's Booksellers Cafe & Inn (315 W.Gorham) On the magazine rack right inside the door, I found what I did not know I was looking for; Found Magazine, Issue #1.

It seems I am not the only person stuck rhapsodic by street side ephemera. It inspired Davy Rothbart to found Found. By uncanny coincidence, here before me in the store was issue one of a lovingly put-together magazine dedicated to the celebration of 'found stuff'. It is a load of rubbish.

Here was someone-else had had the idea of picking up and reading litter. And more than that he had actually done so. Whereas I had left it at the conceptual stage, (a common failing of mine; as women in many ports can testify,) Davy had taken an idea I had considered original and founded a magazine and website on it. Likely, in the tradition of these things, to make him a billionaire while I remain an impoverished millionaire. No matter! After 'the Big Issue incident', I am used to it. And I don't begrudge him his success, it is a great piece of work and he explains it better than I ever could, too..

Why do I love FOUND stuff? I get high driving around this country and talking to people, watching them, listening in on their conversations. Feeling them. There's no better way to really feel someone than to read a note they've written filled with subtle shades of what they really want and what they're most afraid of. FOUND stuff can be at once hilarious, beautiful and heartbreaking.

[..] We'd love for you to join in - find stuff and send it to us! Pick up every scrap of paper you see tumbling down the street; four out of five won't be anything too interesting, but I promise you the fifth one is always something amazing.

Davy Rothbart

Converted? Do be! And do what he says. Do what he says!

I would like to help him out, but as astute readers will realise, I did not pick up my false Messianic message, and it was boring anyway. Ages ago, I did find this mysteriously located cryptic crossword clue in the pages of second hand book. I would send it in, but I am too fond of it.

What can it all mean?

Wednesday, 5th September 2001