The Art of Serendipity

Imagine the cruel fate of being a Pisces sun with a Leo rising: deep need for solitude paired with a karmic duty to be seen and perceived. 

I moved to New York City to get lost in a sea of performers—the ones in LA weren’t Old World enough. And as my skin grew paler from Northeastern living, I drew closer to my sun, learning to let the tides carry me.

Emboldened by the softness of my sun, I could finally end the performance. I became addicted to silence: the ideal I’d been chasing forever. My thoughts became louder. It was sometimes freeing, sometimes terrifying. It was always educational.

The aloneness reintroduced me to the artist within. I became reacquainted with the depths of Taylor, and I wrote stories and poems that filled my heart with pride. 

But where was the joy? Not only did “being unavailable” become too easy; availability and openness became scary. 

I’d attained comfortability with the self in private, but what good was that if it disappeared as soon as someone else perceived it? 

Power in connection

Deep in introversion, I found comfort in:

• The space for self-reflection

• A stronger ear for listening to the Source

• Learning and understanding my own needs 

• Gaining a sense of control over my space, time, and energy

• Discovering the art of being “present” in moments of stillness

Introversion can feel a little big magical, and for a Pisces who likes to exist somewhere in between reality and fantasy, this is a powerful drug. Maybe that’s why I loved it so much—there was no one to pull me back down to earth. This was important for me to get away from. As a people-pleaser, I’ve let other people’s opinions carry too much weight. I considered my NYC exile a sort of input detox—but that can only carry on for so long. 

Gravity returned when I lost my father in 2021. His death was sudden and unexpected—a splash of ice water on my face. I’d gotten even better at listening to my intuition, and it was telling me it was time to move back to Southern California. Just as my intuition knew I’d move to New York City after college, she knew I’d move back to California before I turned 30. 

I was 27 when I landed in Rancho Santa Margarita: a random town in South County I’d never heard of before. Since I work from home, I didn’t care where I ended up. I just wanted to start fresh. Again. 

Moving closer to my roots forced me to give up the privacy and introversion I’d cultivated in the City, but this was something I craved. I signed up for a kickboxing class in an effort to put myself back out there in the community—and that’s where my life did another 180.

Exposed to community, I found comfort in:

• The magic of shared energy

• Seeing my reflection in others' experiences

• Laughing with strangers who would become friends

• Allowing my presence to be received without performance

• Releasing the illusion of control to make space for spontaneity

Opening myself to others became less about being seen and more about being felt. I also realized I didn’t have to abandon my solitude to embrace connection. I just had to stop hiding inside of it.

Moving back to California meant giving up the quiet I’d grown used to. I was surrounded by family again. Reunited with old friends. Seen in ways I hadn’t been in years. And while I could’ve easily retreated back into the comfort of my inner world, something in me knew it was time to stretch.

Since then, life has continued unfolding in these unpredictable, perfectly-timed ways. Chance encounters have become new chapters. Serendipity has looked like:

• Making life-changing decisions in a split second—and feeling grounded in my choices

• Breakthroughs that only came after frustration nearly broke me

• Clarity in the middle of grief

• Reconnecting with the things that bring me joy, like fashion, dance, and creative writing

• Unlikely bonds that remind me how expansive love really is

These moments didn’t come from control or cautiousness. They came from presence, being open—not knowing, and choosing to show up anyway.

I’m learning that the art of serendipity is not about chasing magic. It’s about meeting life halfway, wide-eyed and willing. It’s about learning that sometimes, the path finds you.

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