Being stuck, waiting on something out of my control, has always driven me crazy. 

Two weeks ago, I wrote about the challenge of being human - so infinitely capable, but ultimately, still human. 

I’m getting ready to move to Mexico, which has been true for a year and a half (its own trial of patience). Last week, I traded in my car for the trip, which invited an avalanche of bureaucracy into my timeline. 

It’s tempting to be frustrated, scramble to force things to happen and curse my circumstances (all of which, I did).

But I learned something important. 

When something isn’t going “my way,” something else is happening. There is another, greater force at work - a blessing I can’t see.

Here’s an example, hidden in the ultimate mundane bureaucratic process.

Because I traded in my car, I had to update my car insurance. Proof of insurance is required to import my car into Mexico.

I impatiently emailed my insurance lady over the weekend letting her know I needed to make the switch (and ASAP because in a panicked freakout, I made an appointment with the Mexican consulate for Monday to see if I could even import my car without the new title and registration, which would take the DMV 4-6 weeks to process.) 

She didn’t respond. All day Monday.

I tried calling and leaving a message. Nothing.

Then, Tuesday morning, I get a call back, which I miss because I’m taking my bunny to the vet, another totally stressful blackhole of a task. 

Someone else from their office, James, aka not my lady, sends me a text, asking for the info to process the changeover. I text back everything. I hear nothing for several hours.

I decide, I’m just going to call. James answers, sounding stressed and apologizing for the delay. He just got back from lunch.

“No worries, you gotta eat. It’s not urgent.” I surprise myself with how chill I suddenly am.

He asks me if I still only want liability insurance. “Yes, whatever’s the bare minimum because I won’t even be using it. I’m moving to Mexico and just need proof of US coverage as a formality.” 

“Oh, you’re moving to Mexico?” 

“Yeah!” I’m always excited to talk about it. “The whole reason I’m updating the insurance is because I traded in my car for something that will work better there. I’m driving down there to start my new life.”

“Oh, wow,” he says, “my wife has been back and forth to Mexico and we’re considering living there. But, I don’t know…” He explains how they like it and how life in the US feels backwards, but he doesn’t quite know what to do.

“I just put everything in,” he interrupts himself, “but the computer is being slow, it’s not working for some reason. Sorry.”

I assure him, I’m in no rush. We keep talking. I validate his feelings about the US and how much better things feel to me in Mexico. He asks me some questions about how I’m making the move work, how I got my residency, etc. and I share my experience and enthusiasm for making it happen.

“Okay, it just went through. I’ll send you the proof of insurance right now via email.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

He asks if I have any other questions and I realize I never asked what the new insurance would cost.

“Actually,” he says, surprised, “the premium is the same. Normally there’s some difference, but it seems like it’s exactly what you were paying. Maybe the computer is malfunctioning, but that’s what it’s saying. Weird.”

“It’s funny, the car I traded in was also exactly the same price as the new one.”

“Wow,” he says, acknowledging the double coincidence.

“I’m telling you, you move to Mexico, you start experiencing all kinds of magic, baby.” It just came out of me. I don’t know why I called him baby. We both erupt into laughter.

“Thank you,” he says. “You’ve given me a lot of hope. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank you, and you’re welcome. You have my number, in case you need any more hope.”

What seemed like an annoying delay yesterday, revealed itself as a miniature miracle on the other side.

We don’t always get to see it. But we have the option to trust that the things we think are happening to us, blocking us, frustrating us, are happening for us or for someone else.

Sometimes, magic just takes a little longer than we want it to.

I have really high expectations for myself. Bordering on impossible.

It’s sort of an unavoidable byproduct of believing I can do anything. 

That’s my platform. I believe it for myself and I believe it for you. (We are all magic. That is a fact.)

I believe it because I’ve done things I never could have imagined. I’ve seen myself do supernatural shit beyond my wildest dreams. (Literally sitting in my own brain, watching my body do something and thinking, how am I doing this?)

Any prior concept I had of what my life could look like has been completely blown apart. And I expect it to be blown apart again and again. Because that’s been the pattern. (And patterns are science.)

I am unlimited. 

BUT, I am also limited.  

I am unlimited and limited. (I DON’T GET IT. Me either.)

I have superpowers that transcend time and space. 

AND, I am a human being.

It makes no sense. It’s infuriating. It’s weird. And it’s…humbling.

I think we all feel the struggle of toggling between different levels of functioning.

Some weeks, this very blog pours out of me like Niagara Falls. Other weeks, I’m wringing out a dry towel.

I can use insane wizardry locked in my body from a past life to locate and clear a past life wound in someone else’s body…but I can’t cook rice?

Sometimes I’m on fire, and other times, life is burning me to a crisp.

How can I be so good at some things, and so embarrassingly bad at others? Why do I regress to an angsty teen sometimes? Why can’t I just be at my best all the time?

Because our capacity for greatness doesn’t rescue us from our human-ness. And being a human means progressing, then falling back. It means certain people and situations bring out parts of us we don’t like. It means…sometimes, there is no answer. 

We can’t transcend being human. We can have transcendent experiences, but at the end of the day, we all still poop out of our butts, ya know? 

If I expect myself to be 24/7 god-level, I’m going to be disappointed in myself for just existing. And I’m going to miss the jewels hidden in the weird, gross, normal stuff. 

Having a body means we get to do amazing things. Having a body also means we have to do mundane things to take care of it and get through life.

If we don’t accept our humanness and our limitations, we overburden ourselves with perfectionism, frustration and disappointment.

But if we don’t believe more is possible, we miss our unimaginable potential. We don’t express our divinity. We feel isolated, lonely and depressed because we don’t realize we are all a part of this crazy, contradictory magic.