"Sliding Doors" and "P.S., I Love You"

New Year's weekend, with all chores, errands, parties done, I sat down to watch a movie.   I don't even recall when the movie, "P.S., I Love You" was released.  It was probably this summer.  Further, I am not a particular fan of Hillary Swank.  I think she has talent, but her movies appeal to a different demographic than mine.  

Until this one.

It has everything a chick flick needs for me: a spiritual flavor, hot Irishmen with great buns, wonderful scenery of Ireland, my soul's home, and a redemptive ending.  The basic premise is the fact that Holly's husband, Gerry, has died after a brief illness.  But he had enough time to organize a series of letters to be delivered to Holly after his funeral under a variety of circumstances.  In the end, Gerry accomplishes his post mortem goal.  The journey they take while communicating from different spectrum, is wonderful.

It had been a long time since I had seen a good chick flick.  The last one was ten years ago.  It was called "Sliding Doors".  A c.f. of a different flavor.  Gwyneth Paltrow is Helen, the classic nice girl dating a philandering loser.  On a particularly bad day, Helen misses the tube to work.  And then, she doesn't .  From there, the movie splits into two different scenarios:  what happens after she misses the tube and what happens when she doesn't.  

As a creative type, I really allow movies to resonate to my core.  It doesn't happen often.  Usually I just find the small sign or message I am supposed to receive.  What resonated with these two in particular was the synchronicity of life.  How things can turn on a dime.  For example, through a series of odd circumstances I went to a Christmas party 21 years ago.  It was in a location that held unpleasant memories for me, there were too many arrogant bankers with bad comb-overs, none of us wanted to be there.  We were getting ready to leave.

And then, my future husband walked across the crowded room.

He wasn't supposed to be there either.  Traffic "allowed" him to get back to the burbs in record time and this was an opportunity to introduce himself to the community.  The comb-overs, who were his bankers, were just as snotty to him.  And he walked across the crowded room to meet me.

We talked for quite a while and felt the instant connection that has never dimmed.  It was a spark.  Trite though it may be, just like in the movies.  

Synchronicity -- Carl Jung's meaningful coincidences.  Startling serendipity.  It is with us everywhere.  We need only to tune in.  

Further, and this may be a stretch for some to accept, I think it allows us to receive messages from our guardian angels and loved ones.  For many months after she died, we would be talking about my mother and a bottle cap would fall to the ground every single time. My husband and I always "trust your gut" and follow the voice of God that leads us exactly to where we need to be.

It led us to each other over twenty years ago. 

That is why I love these movies.  Oh, and yes, I am the ultimate incurable romantic.