The gate of opportunity is open

Nine people out of ten will tell you that Williamsburg, Brooklyn is everything that’s wrong with the borough just east of Manhattan. I’d be the tenth who, perhaps overly optimistically, sings its hipster praises. The people, the shops, the restaurants, the vibe…it’s all unlike any neighborhood I’ve ever called my own, and living there sparked in me an energy I wasn’t sure I was capable of, let alone had ever done anything with.

To be sure, following a magical year in Manhattan, Brooklyn was where I made some huge creative breakthroughs in work I’d long been putting off. It was also, for lack of a more eloquent way to put it, where I belonged for that brief time in my life.

The building I lived in was number 111, a stack of railroad studios wrapped in brick on a busy corner shared with two bars and a coffee shop. Down the block, I took a yoga class at a small studio where the desk clerk, when I registered with my addressed, commented on the good nature of that number, 111. I smiled and nodded, then went about my downward dogs and warriors.

Months later, I still think of that 111. I think of the apartment in the building in the neighborhood in the city with the energy I so adored. How I went about my daily life in a corner of the world that got me like no other bundle of buildings and streets had before. And that clerk was right, too: in numerology, 111 is about as auspicious as they come.

The number 1 is known in numerology circles for its assertiveness, independence, and uniqueness. The number also resonates with motivation, new beginnings, and striving forward as well as insight, self-leadership, and inspiration. The number 11 is one of the most powerful karmic master numbers there is. It is a number that helps us connect with our high-selves and learn to understand both our soul mission and life purpose…The number 111 is a sign that the gate of opportunity is open. The thoughts you are thinking are manifesting at record speed. It is the ideal time to make use of this manifestation.

Whoa.

Since moving back to Chicago, I’ve taken to that most juvenile of distractions: writing on my own skin in moments when my mind wanders. Or more accurately, when I’m particularly missing that walk-up studio across from the coffee shop and everything about my life when I lived there. I scrawl, ever so subtly on the inside of my finger, a 111. And as long as the ink stays visible, I have my own personal reminder of that time and all it evoked in me.

So you can imagine that the leap to making that reminder long-lasting was not an entirely large one to traverse. I looked into shops, tossed around styles and then, this week while I was on my own and ready to make it official, I went for it.