I'm a sleepy tired muffin and I really should be in bed, but before I go I want to tell you a story.
(Warning, I use the word ass in this story, if you don't like that word, just picture the word bottom or bum instead. If bottom or bum is still offensive then substitute elbow or pinkie finger)
I really like Sasha Baron Cohen. To be clear, I didn't really like that movie about the model guy and I haven't seen the latest, but I am a big fan of Ali G, I think he's super cute and before it came out I was really, really, really excited to see Borat.
Like really, really, super duper, incredibly excited.
Every year the Toronto International Film Festival happens and most years I don't end up going to see many, if any movies, but the year that Borat came out I got lucky. My roommate had a job which enabled her to get the special advance tickets so I told her that we needed to get tickets to Borat and the new Michael Moore movie.
The night of the Borat movie, I had been playing music at a friend's house. It was a beautiful late summer night and he came out to the sidewalk to see me off. I took a few steps, stopped and turned around. I planted my feet in the ground, pointed my finger to the sky and declared.
"Tonight, I am going to touch Borat's ass!"
I can't say that I had given it much thought or really even considered trying to touch Borat's ass, but it's as if the statement came from deep inside my belly and I gave it up to the gods.
Later that night, I went to see Borat. On our way into the theatre we passed by some limos and I thought about stopping. I considered that perhaps Borat's ass was sitting on one of those leather seats just waiting to be touched, but I kept walking and went into the theatre.
Five minutes after it began the movie stopped. The projector was broken and couldn't be fixed. There would be no Borat that night.
It was rescheduled for the next night at the Elgin at 9pm. At 7pm we had tickets to see the new Michael Moore movie. Where? At the Elgin.
My roommate worked with some serious TIFF goers, and one of her coworkers said that we should do whatever we could to stay in the theatre after the first movie to avoid having to go back outside and wait in line again.
So, after the Michael Moore movie was finished instead of going out of the theatre with the rest of the audience, we walked the opposite way toward the front of the theatre and went down a flight of stairs to the right of the stage.
The flight of stairs ended at a door, which we opened and stepped through. I was a little disoriented at first, but as I looked around I noticed two things.
A bar and Michael Moore.
Michael Moore's presence indicated that this was no ordinary bar but nobody seemed to notice our entry so I made my way to the counter and ordered some drinks. I hoped that the bar tender wouldn't notice my purple backpack as it slid off my shoulder and into my hand.
We found a table in the corner by the bar and sat down in silence. I pushed my backpack under my chair.
Soon, Michael Moore came to sit at the table next to us.
That's when the movie stars began to come in. Isla Fisher, Dustin Hoffman etc... etc... and where did they all sit?
Why they sat next to us, at the table with Michael Moore.
In the throng of stars, was another. Sasha Baron Cohen. But he didn't sit down, he walked straight up to the bar where he stood talking to a friend.
With the whole length of the bar to choose from, where do you think he stood?
That's right, he stood right behind our table, so close in fact that if I had reached back my hand...
I could have very easily touched his ass.
I asked for Borat's ass, and the ass that plays Borat delivered itself to me on a silver platter.
Did I touch the ass?
No, I didn't touch his ass. He wasn't dressed up as Borat, and I didn't want us to get kicked out of the bar. It was enough for me that within 36 hours of requesting Borat's ass, that said ass came into touching distance of my hand.
You may be wondering why I am telling you this story about Borat's ass. Well, I'll tell you what I learned. I learned that sometimes the things that are the most far flung are the things that actually manifest when you ask for them.
Never in a million years did I think that I would touch Borat's ass, so I could throw the request up to the universe with enthusiasm and abandon without worrying about how it was going to happen or what my mother might think.
Most of the time when you want something, you're grasping it so hard that it can't actually happen. You think you know how it's going to happen, when it's going to happen and where it's going to happen. And when it doesn't work the way you thought it would, you lose faith.
What you need to do is throw your intentions high up into the wind and allow it to carry them far away like seed pods. Let them find a sweet patch of fertile soil to gestate and become themselves. Without you over watering them or checking on them every five minutes.
Let it go.
I want you to ask for something totally silly.
Ask for it after you've had a laughing fit or you find yourself smiling at a tree.
Ask for it and don't care if you get it, how you get it or when you get it. Bring all of your conviction and might and ask for it and mean it.
Rake up those leaves and throw them up to the sky. And then, walk away before they hit the grass and never look back.
That night at the bar I wasn't looking for Borat's ass, but Borat's ass found me just the same.
Do you have any thoughts, ass finding experiences or questions about this? If the answer is yes, than get your ass down to the comments below, and if you have a friend whose ass you think would enjoy my little story, go ahead and send this on over.
Take care,
Cecilia
oxo