As those of you who have regularly parked a car in an urban center know, parking karma is no myth, and it is not a funny joke.  Driving around the same blocks, over and over, watching for signs of a parking space – shining white back up lights, a person strolling into the street with keys in hand – takes on the ritual depth of any circumambulation.  City dwellers perform this ritual because they must, and everyone agrees that, over the years,  if it is done with a pure and humble heart, eventually you will achieve uncanny access to just the perfect parking place at the perfect moment.

Although the tree here blossoms in white, I consider it to be part of The Pinkness, and the fact that it lives less than 20 feet from my parking space is no coincidence.  I firmly believe that in exchange for the convenience of a Guaranteed Perfect Parking Space, the Universe has cashed in my parking karma rewards, earned, block by futile block, in Chicago, a lifetime ago.

Of course, you can’t earn a blessing as lovely as this tree through merit or devotion.  All you can do is this: Open your eyes.  Get out your camera.  Realize to your great shame and delight that in 7 years, you never noticed before that it was raining petals on you as you walked to your car.