“We say they are coincidences, but we know better than that.” -Anderson

We celebrated another week. Congratulations friends.

Do you remember the opening scene of Paul Thomas Anderson's 'Magnolia? He famously starts with three impossible coincidences, then delivers the haunting line: “These things happen... and we say they are coincidences, but we know better than that.”

Sometimes it seems so ordinary, living. All survival, little joy.

Fix, plan, change plans, buy, return, ask for a refund, send money, get money, mow the lawn, pull the weeds, clean the kitchen on repeat, find out where all your money went.

It can be an eternal whirl of energy and motivation going down the drain.

Life is so brilliant. Until it's not. And you end up feeling like this.

But then something microscopically magnificent happens.

Here s an example. I’ve been getting these messages lately.

"Be ready, but open and flexible. Be open, but disciplined. The dire warnings coming through about humankind are real, but don't get paralyzed by them. Help, but don't lose your focus on what you are building too. And follow the coincidences.”

Should I have my head checked?

And for the love of God, how does this help you?

You’ve heard this from me before.

You are getting messages every day, sometimes through coincidences, that can bring meaning to your life.

When you are able to see that one message is connected to the other it is pure divinity.

Below, I give you anecdotal evidence that not only I, but likely you (and the creators highlighted here) are birthing revolution by listening and acting on what we're being asked to explore.

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Let’s start with Art.

It's 1916. A friend betrays you.

Alleged friend, Anita Pollitzer, takes your most personal charcoal drawings and shows them to Alfred Stieglitz without asking.

Your work is hanging in his famous Gallery 291. Strangers are looking at your soul and it s completely unsanctioned.

How are you feeling about that? What do you do?

A furious Georgia O'Keeffe storms into the gallery and demands Stieglitz take them down. Now.

Stieglitz looks at this unknown artist-this force of nature standing in his gallery-and refuses. Not because he's the epitome of an a@@, which is the easy answer.

Nope, he recognizes something extraordinary.

That confrontation? It ignited a 30-year partnership that revolutionized American modernism.

One unauthorized exhibition, one furious artist, one gallerist who wouldn't back down-and the entire trajectory of modern art shifted.

Is it possible that what feels disastrous and even betrayal is actually an open door to your next life?

And what about this?

It's 1982.

You're a broke graffiti artist selling hand-painted postcards on the street for a few bucks each.

You spot Andy Warhol eating lunch at a restaurant and approach his table, something you'd never normally do.

What are the odds? The king of pop art buys one of your postcards for a dollar.

Most people would call it a lucky break and move on.

But Basquiat follows the coincidence. He paints a portrait of Warhol that same day and delivers it to his studio while the paint is still wet.

Who does that? (You, I hope!)

One crazy mix, unknown street artist, chance restaurant encounter, painting delivery, sparked a legendary collaboration that launched Basquiat into art history.

Basquiat acted immediately. No hesitation, no second-guessing the coincidence.

Darling, get off your a@@, and follow the coincidences. Believe in the magic of life.

I'll tell you a brief story.

The drive between Austin and Lockhart has that Texas grandiose feeling. It's spacious. The weather is its own character-present, unpredictable, formidable.

I'm driving between the middle of two worlds on road SH-130, to the west, the clouds are massive high-rises dumping water in dark purple swirls. The east is filled with light, sun, and bright summer clouds against blue skies.

My son is with me. He cues up one of his favorite audio books. Truth be told, I don't want to hear anything but I go with it.

It's "All the Pretty Horses" by Cormac McCarthy, a book I've always wanted to read.

My son has had a challenging week. I'd describe it as a week that grabbed me by the "cojones" and kept twisting. My heart is timid. My pulse is slow. I'm wondering if I'm still really alive or if it's all a dream.

That he is sitting next to me is pure joy and relief, but driving to Lockhart feels like folly.

Read in a perfect Texan twang, that book is a spitting image of my childhood. It opens up my senses and the bigger than life characters I once knew live again.

I find that odd hurtling towards an art opening in downtown Lockhart, Texas, hosted by a jolly transplanted Englishman, lured in and settled here because of the romance of the Texas wild.

The landscape, the words, the sound of the words, the location, all in sync. And it feels comforting. We start talking about my family, grandparents, great, great grandparents, heritage, legacy, our connection to Texas, where we immigrated from.

We arrive in Lockhart and enter another era. It feels refreshing, stabilizing, a connection to something I can't identify. It feels like our ancestors are there. And dammit, they are guiding us to a connection to what we've forgotten.

And I start talking with my son and there is a re-establishment that there is much more, greater than we can see, going on.

What are the odds? That on this particular night, when my son and I both need something we can't name, we end up in a town and a gallery full of wonder, and enlightenment. Population 17,166.

The gallery is alive. People are talking, laughing, Texas musician playing.

The gallery owner greets us. He didn't know my son was coming. But he starts making connections with my son, relating all that he already knows about him. "I hear you're a rock climber " and it goes from there.

Why does this matter? Because we needed it.

Then, the gallerist reminds me that 50% of the proceeds, ALWAYS, with every sale, goes to a cause. Activism through art. Tonight's cause: immigration.

50%? How do they stay in business? How do they keep the lights on, pay rent, survive the eternal whirl? Like, what?

Have they found a way out of survival mode that I never considered?

The best conversation that evening goes to the woman of eternal soul, the one who stood there and said (I’m paraphrasing), "Yes, I am an artist. I quit my job as a paralegal. I took a risk. I studied art. I am a full-time artist. Although recently, while doing the work and getting my MFA, they recruited me to teach part-time."

Did she follow the leads? Sure fire, she did.

This wasn't coincidence. The storm clouds and sunshine, McCarthy's words filling the car, my son beside me, the gallerist who knew exactly what to say, the artist who quit her day job, arriving at exactly the moment I needed to hear these messages.

Are these coincidences? Anderson would say "we know better than that."

Your coincidences are trying to tell you something. "Go to that opening," "take that detour," "call that person”, that's your navigation system driving you out of survival mode.

I found this artist, KING SaLADeEN, yesterday, when Instagram kindly floated his work into my feed. Not a coincidence.

An artist compelled by his mission.

Seeing how he operates so out in the open made me so uncomfortable.

Which tells me, I’m playing too small. What about you?

Speaking of “dope shit”.

The gallery in Brooklyn that represents KING SaLADeEN is UNBELIEVABLE.

Tanya Weddemire’s curations and the artists she represents bring art to life with finesse, technical skill, and an exuberant celebration of “this thing called life.”*

*Prince Let s Go Crazy

Here’s her Insta grid. @https://www.instagram.com/tanyaweddemiregallery/

The Counterintuitive Math:

Most creators think: Less for me = financial struggle

But is it possible that purpose-driven work = premium pricing + loyal customers?

MAYBE….

Practical Applications:

Speaking of coincidences (and ACTIVISM)

The Artist Ai Weiwei's Model:

And coincidentally, Tim Wakefield, @ soundwaves_art has put together a few pieces of Ai Weiwei’s art, deep in the heart of Lockhart.

We’ve got to get a little crazy, to survive. Work it out on the dance floor.