Last week, I was pushing a stroller around the Brooklyn Museum, in exploration mode as my grandson, Nico, peered inquisitively at the lights and people surrounding us.
Suddenly, I found myself at a dinner party.
Not just any dinner party. This was The Dinner Party, a momentous piece of feminist art created by Judy Chicago from 1974-79.
I read about The Dinner Party in college. Its place settings honor and acknowledge 39 women who’ve made their mark on our history, with another 999 named and forever commemorated in the inscriptions. The piece has made its way around the world, being exhibited in six countries on three continents before landing, permanently, in Brooklyn.
Nico and I meandered around the triangular table, admiring the painted china; the needlework; the inscribed tiles — and reading each and every of the 39 place settings.
(One of us was a bit more enthralled than the other, but I’d like to think Nico learned a lot that day!)
At that moment, I was flooded with an overwhelming feeling of serendipity.
Simply being in Brooklyn with my grandson came from a spontaneous ask by my son and a beautiful synchronization with my schedule that allowed me to say yes.
Behind that is an unfathomable amount of micro moments that have occurred in my decades here on this Earth — moments where I faced a proverbial fork in the road; where I encountered a tough situation or had to work through a difficult emotion; where I had to navigate an uncomfortable path.
Each of those moments brought me here, today.
Perhaps even more importantly, each of those moments connected me to the people I’ve been blessed to know along the way.
As I walked around The Dinner Party — and as I reflect on it now — I find myself assembling a dinner party of my own; a gathering of the beautiful souls I’ve been inspired by, learned from, collaborated with, loved, and been loved by.
I’m taken back to the moment when I decided to transfer from one college to another, where I’d eventually meet my now-husband who I’d build my beautiful family with.
I’m transported to the first meeting with my now longtime friend, Sherry Brahm, who opened up the world of travel and tourism for me.
I’m reliving the moment I first walked into Pat Rini Rohrer Gallery, in a fog of despair after my son went off to college; a moment that led me to oil painting, plein air, and teaching workshops of my own.
Today, each of those moments seems serendipitous.
Hindsight has provided me with the ability to see the synchronicity in those moments.
Reflection has gifted me the insight to appreciate the serendipity of how different threads of my life have been woven together.
Love has made me want to gather all of my people together at my dinner table — sprawled over my front lawn on a warm summer night.
With my community surrounding me at my table, it’s easy to see how my story has unfolded and come together so far, and inspired me to keep saying yes; to keep collaborating; to keep sowing seeds that will expand my table every day into the future.