Before I even knew what being psychic was or how to use my insight, I listened when the Universe told me who to marry.
What?!? You didn’t know 100% in your heart!?!?
Well, not really.
I met Niklas, my now husband, while on a college exchange program at Uppsala University in Sweden. I could not speak Swedish, his shy self could barely eek out English. We took a lot of long, silent walks in the woods, neither of us able to beguile the other with interesting stories or impart our personal “resumes.”
When the school year ended, I returned to California, sad to leave, but what’s a girl to do? This was before the internet and even telephone deregulation — international calls were $3 per minute so we wrote old fashioned letters which took a week to arrive.
Here’s where it gets interesting. One day, an idea pops into Niklas’ head — call Ulrica (the director of the International Program). He asked her if she had any info on how he could go to grad school in the States. She asked him if he had any interest in a year abroad as an undergrad. Nope, nix, no interest — determined to earn his MBA in the USA.
It was 2pm. She said, “The deadline to apply for a year abroad as an undergrad is 4pm today.”
It’s worth mentioning that applicants for international programs usually spend months working on their essays and typing their applications perfectly. Something clicked for Niklas. He hopped on his bike and rode 20 minutes across town to the director’s office. He filled out the application by hand, in ink, wrote one paragraph for his “essay”, and selected CSU Sacramento (where I lived) as his only option instead of the requested top three choices.
The chances of him being accepted at this point were slim. Being selected for his only school choice, against all the other applicants, was next to impossible. You know where this is going.
Niklas was accepted to CSU Sacramento, and we had a blast that school year, hanging out as much as possible outside of work and school. June arrived seemingly in the blink of an eye. Niklas returned to Sweden, and we were back to writing letters. He graduated, moved to Stockholm, and began his career.
Another year passed. We knew we loved each other, but we both had great jobs, friends, and family in our respective countries. What to do?
My brain regurgitated thoughts in its droning, monotone voice:
“Marry a Catholic. You always wanted to marry a Catholic.”
“You have a great job. You can’t leave, this may be your only chance.”
“You love California. You have to marry someone in California.”
“It’s too cold in Sweden. You hate being cold!”
“There are a lot of great guys, there is no one right guy.”
And on and on…incessantly…
But…what were the chances of this little girl from Sacramento, whose parents had not traveled much nor gone to college, meeting this guy in another country and then that guy getting the idea to apply to a coveted International Program at the last possible moment, and being accepted (against all odds) to the one school he applied to for the sole reason it was in her city? That question kept gnawing at me.
I decided to listen. That Thanksgiving we met halfway — New York. We stood on the roof of the Empire State Building overlooking the bright lights of the iconic city and made it official — engaged! He flew back to Stockholm, and I to Sacramento. We didn’t see each other again for another seven months. He showed up two weeks before our wedding with his family and a couple of friends in tow.
That was this day, June 17th, 26 years ago.
Two days later, I was on a plane moving to Stockholm essentially with a glorified pen-pal. I did not speak Swedish, had no friends, and no job. It was a tough transition; I’m not going to lie. I doubted myself and the wisdom of trusting coincidences over logic. Of the five years Niklas and I dated before we married, we only lived the 1st and 3rd of them in the same country. It wasn’t logical to make such an important, life-altering decision on perceived messages from some mystical higher source.
Most people trust their thoughts and logic over intuition and gut feelings because we don’t want to second guess a decision that doesn’t make sense on paper or otherwise. We want to avoid the embarrassment of making a mistake and giving others the chance to say, “I told you so.” We are under the illusion that if we think things through enough, we will make the “right” decision and avoid the “wrong” one.
The Universe doesn’t ring the doorbell and hand us a FedEx box with clear instructions. It “speaks” to us through coincidences, synchronicities, gnawing sensations, gut feelings, inner knowing.
