with light in my head

To mixed reviews, I have concocted and embraced a new philosophy, a livable creed effective immediately, which is to let the Universe—capitalized here for effect and future reference—make my decisions for me. Which is not to say I relinquish my agency, just that, when confronted with decisions large and small, my new plan requires that I take full stock of the signs around me before leaping. (Or, in my grand tradition: before agonizing and analyzing in a cycle of chronic indecision.)

First example: my rather hasty decision to move back to Astoria. Made possible by several failed attempts to see other apartments in bigger, better boroughs, a fortuitous half-friday at the office, a canceled broker appointment, and the happenstance and serendipity required to have chanced a peek at the craigslist postings that morning (for lack of a more stimulating activity). Without any of these (seemingly coincidental) occurrences, the apartment in question would have gone the next day and I would never have seen it. But I did see it. And I fell in love with it. We cut a check within the hour and now it is ours. Impulsive? Perhaps. Although my new therapist (unwitting champion and muse for this new philosophical roll-out) prefers that I refer to it as "being capable of making an informed and rational decision in the heat of the moment." Translation: I had my finger on the beating pulse of the Universe and I followed its direction? Or maybe just: It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Regrets current: 0 (although there may be doubts). Net regrets: TBD.

Second example:

My Labor Day Weekend—which would have involved a trip to Storyland with Supermom and the cutest kids in the world had not my boyfriend been swept away to Florida on a business venture cum bachelor weekend. Instead, I got to follow the Universe (and salute myself for that decision) on a spur of the moment trip to Gettysburg with my favorite partner in crime, which became a trip to Baltimore, which ended at an O's/Rangers game at Camden Yards and 36 hours full of good music, crab cakes, NCAA football and beers.

Net regrets: 0.

I may be utterly foolish. This experiment may be nothing but overdressed spontaneity. The road may be paved with chanciness and I may be backed into dangerous corners I cannot get easily out of. But it sure beats the alternative.

I am more and more convinced that the data for decision-making is always right in front of us, from who we want to be to what we want for dinner. All I have to do is pay attention, trust myself, and leap.

Stay tuned.