Elusive Serendipity

By Bob Deakin

I used to think LinkedIn connection requests were like Spam. Not the emails, the food. The can looks retro cool, and I’m hungry, but what the eff is it going to do to me?

Time and patience have turned the tide. Yes, the buzzards still circle, but the wise now outnumber the lunatics. 

The clever ways you present your ideas are an education. Some of you are so good I feel I know you, though we’re continents apart. Don’t stop talking. If you think no one is listening, think again. The room is noisy, but I hear you.

I read your words. If the LinkedIn algorithm gods send you my way, we may connect, even if you message one minute later, telling me how much better my website should be. 

No problem. I’ll accept. Lack of decorum doesn’t make you a bad person, but you’re getting a time-out.

Serendipity

I love that word, particularly serendipitous. It evolved from “The Three Princes of Serendip,” a 500-year-old Persian fairytale. The definition reads “unexpected discovery of pleasant things,” though “happy coincidence” works too.

The derivation Serendip, or Sarandīb, is the name originally given to Sri Lanka, also referred to as Ceilão (Portuguese) or Cielo (Spanish). Whatever the language, this Asian nation cannot shake portrayals of paradise. 

[note to self: search flights to Sri Lanka]

Keep the Words Coming!

When one connection is serendipitous, they are all worth the effort. 

I don’t write this to blow smoke up your privates. You don’t write to reach everyone, but you resonate with those you do. You may not be aware of your impact, but something tells me you are. Confidence has a way of hiding the moving parts.

Keep talking and I’ll follow. I love your voice. Authentic, hilarious, stirring. The weight it carries is a beautiful miracle. The world is a better place for it. 

Cool it on the videos, though. At least pull the camera back. I can see the color of your nose hairs.

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