In Praise of Serendipity

Plans raise expectations regarding those plans. But, things rarely go as planned, and we are rarely without plans. So, we've pretty much guaranteed we'll be constantly disappointed because of our expectations brought about by plans.

If one doesn’t have a plan one can’t be disappointed at the plan not going as planned. However, can you imagine doing anything without a plan? Neither can I. Therein lies our problem.

The joy of loose plans.

Loose plans allow for serendipity. Serendipity is the soil of the unexpected blessing.

Sixteen family members. Two condos. One week. I had two hours away. I drove into Coeur D’elene with a loose plan. I hoped to find a book store and a coffee shop. I thought I remembered where the coffee shop was, and I had no idea if a book store was to be had. So, in reality my plan was to look for a book store and have a coffee if I remembered where the coffee shop was. I had no expectations regarding the book store and low expectations regarding the coffee shop.

A good one-of-a-kind artsy coffee shop is like being 6 and getting a back rub from Mom. It’s that comforting, that centring. So, I was hoping to find the coffee shop called Doma. I had been to downtown Coeur D’elene two years before and had chanced upon it. I drove down the main street, Sherman Ave., fairly certain this was where I wanted to be. Sure enough, I recognized the right block even before I saw the coffee shop. Unexpected blessing number one. (U.B. #1)

There was a parking spot. I parked. (U.B. #2)

Knowing coffee was waiting I started down the main street looking for a book store. I wasn’t in a hurry, it was a sunny day, I was really enjoying strolling down the street. (U.B. #3)

I didn’t find a book store on the main street, so I went one block north and headed back toward my car and the coffee shop. If I couldn’t find a book, at least I’d have a nice relaxing Americano.

With only one more block to go I found a book store. But not just a book store, a second hand book store. (U.B. #4&5)

I like book stores, but I really like second hand book stores. One hasn’t really been to a place until one has found a good one-of-a-kind second hand book store, chatted with who ever is behind the counter and petted whatever animal is usually lounging about.

Anyone who frequents second book stores will tell you second hand book stores embody the notion of loose plans. You don’t go to a second hand book store to find and purchase a specific title. You go to browse. Not the digital sense of “browse” in which one, oxymoronically, makes use of a “browser” to carry out a laser focused 30 second mission on Amazon.com seeking and destroying an itch of impulse. I mean the pre-digital version of browse, in which one’s body is employed in the act of browsing.

If Amazon.com is, well, the Amazon, a second hand book store is, by contrast, not. It is little creeks and streams. Every collection of creeks and steams bears a haphazard topography laid out at the book seller’s whim. One becomes familiar with each book shop’s unique topography only by lazily drifting through the shelves, noting the hand scrawled way markers, and perhaps, or perhaps not, charting a mental map of one’s wanderings.

In a second hand book store one hopes a book calls out to you. While this may sound odd to some, it makes perfect sense to frequenters of second hand book shops. Within five minutes a book called out to me. “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,” by William L. Shirer. Simon and Schuster, 1960. A beautiful little book. (U.B. #6)

I picked it up and made a pretense of further browsing, perhaps something better would present itself. After about 20 seconds I admitted to myself further browsing would be fruitless, I would be buying this book. Given my limited time I moved toward the counter.

Once at the counter I commented to the gentleman behind the counter that I hadn’t known what I wanted to buy before I came into the shop and had hoped a book would call out to me. This was akin to walking into an ice cream store and telling the proprietor you had hoped to buy ice cream and this seemed like a good place to do so. Not knowing what you want is the whole point of second hand book shops, frequenters of second hand book shops know this, and certainly proprietors of second hand books shops know this. None the less, books calling out to one is sort of a secret code in the second hand book shop world and I wanted him to know he wasn’t dealing with a neophyte.

The proprietor informed me that he and the gentleman standing beside me had been chatting about the very topic of entering a second hand book shop not knowing what one hopes to buy single handedly verifying my assertion about the loose plan-ed-ness of book shops. He then relayed a story to me. A woman from Seattle had been browsing in the metaphysics section when she came to the counter to make purchase. She told him she had no idea what the book was about, but since it had her business card tucked in its pages, she thought she had better buy it. A free story. But not just a free story, a free story about serendipity. (U.B. #7&8)

I asked if he happened to know if this text was indeed the definitive text I thought it was. He confirmed it was considered authoritative on the subject of the Third Reich. The author had been a journalist in Germany for much of the goings on and on top of that had managed to write a readable book. A beautiful little book worth reading. (U.B. #9)

I made my purchase, bid the book seller adieu, and headed toward the coffee shop. I had found a book and still had plenty of time for an Americano. (U.B. #10)

I went to Doma and ordered my Americano. The woman who owns the shop is a naturally gregarious, warm and cheerful person. Regulars came and went. She struck up conversations with first time customers. She chatted with a new customer which resulted in a newly discovered common friend, unexpectedly the common friend came in the shop. To the shop owner, this was delightful and she freely communicated her delight. It was infectious. Having no part in the conversation what so ever, merely being present my spirits were lifted. (U.B. #11)

My Americano was excellent. (U.B. #12)

I handn’t expected to write while on this vacation. It seemed reasonable given the point of the affair is to gather and visit with extended family. Lots of loud chaotic meals, boisterous talking, much laughing, but more than likely, very little writing. Sitting in this comforting little coffee shop having encountered no less than twelve unexpected blessings I found myself feeling so light, I began to write. (U.B. #13)

I began, “Plans raise expectations regarding those plans. But, things rarely go as planned, and we are rarely without plans.”