Interpret as you will:

Fact 1: I needed a canopy for a festival and my old one was broken.
Fact 2: I had put a request out to my friends, family, landlords, acquaintances, and on facebook, and I had zero leads.
Fact 3: The festival was starting in 4 hours.
Fact 4: I had repeated the following to myself (which was also posted on my wall) all week: “Please don’t worry. The infinite wisdom of the Divine has already resolved this problem for you. Just ask to be shown the actions.”
Fact 5: I had pretty much given up on the ‘infinite wisdom of the Divine’, figuring either it didn’t exist, or it had different ideas than I did about what I needed.
Fact 6: Three hours before I had to leave, I went to my landlord with the smashed plastic pieces of my canopy in hand and said, “Hey Ted, do you have any crazy glue and duct tape? I’m going to have to McGuyver these here pieces together because I still don’t have a canopy.”
Fact 7: Ted looked at me thoughtfully and then slowly said (and I kid you not): “I think... I might have a canopy for you. Follow me,” and led me under the porch where there was a box with a canopy in it.

Here is a picture my booth at the Waterloo Open Streets night market with the miraculous canopy. 
Apparently the infinite wisdom of the Divine involves a wicked and timely sense of humour.

SIGH.  There I sat, on a friend’s front porch in the beautiful afternoon sun, ruminating discontentedly.    As I do.

"I dunno, Leanne," I mused.  "This Pay-What-You-Can thing...I love it, in theory, but it’s not quite working the way I had intended. 
"I wanted to focus on giving and trusting, instead of wondering how much I was GETTING from each transaction.  I wanted the ideas and connections to be more important than the bottom line.  I wanted to trust that I can give without fearing - that it will come back to me in other ways."

I had participated as a vendor at a festival the day prior, where my clearly lofty ideals had collided with...what?...reality? greed? insecurity? human nature? societal paradigms? 
The PWYC concept was, in fact, well received by customers - I was the one who was still having difficulty.  If I was really being honest with myself, I had still noticed how much people gave.  I did attach value to myself based on what was offered.  I argued with my inner judge to stop noticing, but with minimal effect.  On the outside I was letting go...on the inside I was attached to a certain outcome.

So there I sat on the porch, reflecting on money, security, and the challenges in giving freely.  It was easier, I rationalized, when people ordered cards online or in person to feel love, sharing, and I desire to help and give.  In a festival setting I shifted almost unconsciously to 'getting' instead of 'giving'.  Is there any way of changing that?  Maybe if I...

“A DONATION BOX,” said Leanne, with finality, interrupting my thoughts. “You need a donation box.”

Hmm.
Nope. Unconvinced. 
It seemed like it would just be another thing I had to source or make.  It might pan out; it might not.  It would require more explanation to customers.  
I decided that if I came across a donation box before next weekend’s Cherry Park festival, I would use one.  Maybe.

I did keep my eyes open all week (half-heartedly, I admit), but nothing was forthcoming.  So I was off the hook, right?  I didn't have to worry about it.
And yet...and yet....the night before the festival, amidst the flurry of packing tables and chairs and tent and equipment, I couldn’t get rid of the nagging suspicion that it WAS somehow a pretty good idea.  I felt it, deep down, but I didn’t feel like making one.
“Damn it!” I finally cried, grabbing a saw, my toolbox, a drill, and some old wood from behind the shed, and I started cobbling together what would hopefully pass for a donation box.

Festival day came, and, much to my surprise (with my dread of crowds and extroverting), it more than panned out.  The weather was fantastic, I had lots of help, my booth was on a corner, attendance was great...
And the donation box?   The donation box???
Did it actually make a difference?
        
                                                      YES!!!!  yes, yes, and yes.

By the end of that day, I tell you, I was ready to write articles glorifying the donation box, to gild the blessed thing, to put Leanne herself up on a pedestal of glory for suggesting it to me in the first place.

And here's why.
THE DONATION BOX ALLOWED ME THE FOLLOWING...

• it disengaged me from the money process – by no longer handling the money directly, I was freed up to speak with customers about the cards, about why the different payment structure, to chat with them about life and listen to their thoughts.  It somehow became much more about connecting than selling.
  
• I couldn’t see how much money people were donating!  So I finally stopped caring and worrying about it. I wasn’t secretly judging people for the amounts they were giving me and then hating myself for judging them, because I had no idea how much they gave.  I felt a sense of release.
  
• People knew that I couldn’t see how much they put in.  Though I don't know this for sure, I sensed that people who were putting in less did not feel embarrassed or judged or worried that they weren’t giving enough.  On the flip side, no one could feel worthier for making a big donation.  People just gave what they could give, or what felt right to them.
  

And what if someone put in $1 and took ten??  Worse, what if someone just walked off with my cards?  And as I asked myself these questions, I realized this:  it's ok.  Yes indeed, it's ok.  
Lord knows I have taken advantage of many PWYC offers in my life (and sometimes still do).  I believe it comes from my feelings of scarcity, fear, and lack of trust: "I don't have enough so I have to maximize how much I get!  Only I am in control of whether I come out ok!"
Truth is, we're not alone and we're not in control.  But enforcing how much people give or take probably isn't going to change that paradigm, for them or for me.  Perhaps letting go will.
Perhaps giving will help me let go and learn how to give.
And THAT might be why I need to do this.  To learn how to give.  Not in a way that lessens the value of what I do or who I am, but in a way that pushes me to trust that things are much bigger than what I see.

We all struggle with scarcity and control.  We all have times where we are blessed to receive and blessed by giving.  Having a donation box makes me no better or worse than anyone else in the world.
But what I can tell you is that this is how I was affected by a lowly wooden box on THIS festival day.

Just for a moment I was able to let go.
Now I just have to figure out how to do that in every other aspect of my life.
SIIIIGH!

Several people have looked at this card and asked if I was the one who painted the words.
I wish I had, but no.
These words were graffiti on a rock, way, waay up in a remote area of the mountains in California. I had been travelling on my own in my van for over a month, and was on my way to find hot springs. 
I was yearning for hot springs.
I needed hot springs. 
My map showed hot springs strewn abundantly, flagrantly, all across the states of Washington, Oregon, and California.
They were, however, proving much more difficult to access than I had hoped. This was my last ditch attempt, and believe me, I was going to soak that day or heads would roll. 
Unfortunately Google Maps had not received this memo and sent me off on a 3 hour expedition in the opposite direction from where the hot springs were located. It probably took me longer than it should have to figure this out. In my defense, I had no GPS or wifi.
As it slowly dawned on me that I was not even remotely where I was supposed to be, it also dawned on me that I was going to have to find a place to sleep. By this time I was high in the mountains, the ranger station was closed, and all I had was old-fashioned paper maps...and THAT, my friends, is when I came across this graffiti on a rock.
It was at a small suicidal pull-off beside a hair-pin turn. Other hapless travelers had felt the need to spray paint their names, their loves, and their grievances on this rock overlooking the valley. And some dear soul felt compelled to write "live wild - be free" right in the middle.

Photo #2 and 3 are the view, taken from the rock, looking back the way I had just come. Yes, those skinny ribbons are the roads I was driving just before sunset, lost and without a plan.

I'll skip to the end for you: all turned out well, there were several serendipitous situations, a crazy and slightly illegal camping experience, and a really beautiful drive. There was angst, stress, and possible heat stroke. There was fun, excitement, and some adrenaline. There were Mexicans with shotguns around a campfire. 
I may not have found my hot springs, but I think I can safely say that I was living wild and being free.

PS. to whichever Guiding Force is planning my journeys...wild, free, AND hot springs would have been ok. 
Next time.

For the whole crazy and humorous story of what happened on that trip, see my roadtrip blog at www.opentopossibility5.weebly.com/ojai-and-krishnamurti.html.