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I thought I would tell you the very strange and curious story of the baby named Baby. Some of the things you are about to read will sound too strange to be true, but it is this story that will prove that sometimes truth can indeed be stranger than fiction, and I know that everything in this story is true, as the baby is me, and the story is mine.

I call this tale, “The baby named Baby.”

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‘Coincidence’ as the Jewish say ‘is not a Kosher word’ and as I sit here stretched out on this chair, 1052 kilometers from the last place I knew as home, looking out onto a crystal blue bay so close I could maybe, just maybe disturb its mirror surface with a pebble if my right arm summoned the strength, I can appreciate that the Jewish rabbi who first uttered the words which became that well known saying was not necessarily being as tongue in cheek as the modern text claims but rather he must have known something which I am just now beginning to grasp: There are no mistakes in life, there is only purpose and our purpose unfolds before us disguising itself in ‘accidents’ or ‘coincidences’ or ‘disappointments’, getting troubling news or ‘missing out’ on an opportunity. I can see now that purpose has to hide within these so called upsets as if it didn’t hide and we learned our story too soon, we would surrender to our human nature and want to manipulate the outcome and so since we were children, planning our future from even those first sentiments of ‘when I grow up I want to be a fireman!’ or in my case “when I grow up, I want to be a mermaid!’ Purpose has been sitting back idly, grinning and nodding wisely, tapping its pipe out on the heel of its shoe knowing that despite all our plans and all our preparations our true purpose would prevail, treading on the toes of our plans if need be, yes even disguising itself in accidents or let-downs if need be.

Anything to prevail.
Anything to unfold without our meddling.

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