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in issue twelve:
Synchronicity
Scintillations
The Phone Call
Finding Feathers
Did God Land Me
   This Waitress Gig?
Letting Good Happen
Continuous
   Synchronicity
Unexpected Inspiration
Rubber Band Fairy
Bird on My Shoulder
Listen To Your Body
Letters to
   My Younger Self
Books That Changed
   My Life
Moody Girl

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Zack Luchetti: Artwork
Ally Moll: Rock My World
Forrest Norvell:
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Egghead Party Time
Tokyo Metropolitan Art Space
Locke Berkebile:
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NY Subway
Produce District

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future issues
Issue 13: Danger
Issue 14: Home
Issue 15: Transitions

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The Rubber Band Fairy by Julie Russell

A few months back, I was desperate for a rubber band--not a paper clip, not a staple, but a rubber band. I tore apart my flat and I still couldn't find a single rubber band of any size or width in any drawer, on any doorknob, or even under the sofa. I made do somehow and the need for a rubber band un-dramatically passed.

About a week later, I started seeing rubber bands randomly scattered on sidewalks and in the gutters. There were little ones, big ones, fat thick ones in pink, green, and occasionally that rubber band tan color. I saw on average three or four a day as I walked around.

At first this seemed strange, but typically I grinned each time I saw a new rubber band. Inwardly, I was amused that when my demand for a rubber band went away that the supply became plentiful. I wondered if there was a message in the abundance of rubber bands. I didn’t know it yet, but this was my first hint about the existence of the Rubber Band Fairy.

Increasingly more and more rubber bands appeared in my path. Now, I could hardly walk two feet between rubber band sightings! Had they always been there and I just hadn't seen them? Had there always been so many scattered throughout the city streets?

Then one day I was walking home and randomly glanced to my left at a well-groomed shrub planted next to the street. I froze and looked again. My grocery bags slipped from my hands and I barely felt them hit the ground. There, perched in that small tree, was a whole package of rubber bands sitting calmly, placidly, on a branch, as if rubber bands indeed grew on trees.

I walked right up to the tree to get a closer look at this bizarre find and to ensure it wasn’t a hallucination produced by my rubber band-infested brain. Yes, it was definitely an ordinary-seeming package of rubber bands perched un-ordinarily in a tree. I took down the package and examined it. One corner of the package had been ripped, but even still, there were more rubber bands in that bag than I could use in a decade. After looking the bag over for a few minutes, I put it back in the tree where I’d found it. I was tempted to keep them, but my rubber band shortage had passed and I wanted to leave them for someone who really needed them.

On the rest of the walk home I considered the recent cornucopia of rubber bands. I didn’t believe much in coincidences and preferred to credit the abundance to my subtle powers of manifestation. It seemed, based on this bizarre experience, that all I needed to do to have rubber bands appear en masse at my toes and fingertips was a clear need, a bit of patience, and to let go of any desperation. But I couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was a benevolent force helping me. I had the distinct impression I hadn’t manifested so many rubber bands all by myself.

I also wondered if they were intentionally placed in my path as some sort of message about abundance. I found it easy enough to believe that rubber bands were always abundant, but somehow my initial desperation had hid them from my view. What I really wanted to know was who had placed all these rubber bands so obviously in my path.

The Rubber Band Fairy, of course.

The thought appeared out of nowhere, as channeled thoughts tend to do.

Yes, the Rubber Band Fairy, and her job is to put rubber bands in your path as a message.

A message? What’s the message?

You are loved.

To be honest, I believed this completely, probably because I wanted love more than I ever needed a rubber band.

This idea simmered on a back burner in my brain for a couple days, developing consistency and flavor. Every day put dozens of rubber bands in my path, and each one brought a smile to my face as I imagined the Rubber Band Fairy whispering to me, “You are loved.”

I could say without doubt that I needed this message more than I’d ever needed this message before, which is true, but what’s also true is that I can always use tangible proof that I’m loved. There are many days when I am trapped in a bad mood, and one rubber band on the sidewalk is just the medicine I need to get out of it.

Since the initial sighting, I have told a few friends about the Rubber Band Fairy, and now they tell me about their rubber band sightings. Once when I was walking with a skeptical friend, he pointed out a whole big pile of rubber bands on the sidewalk. “Those are for you,” I told him, meaning that the message is for him, not me. He was dubious, but excited. He didn’t quite believe that the message was that he is loved, but I bet just the sight of a rubber band makes him smile, and the Rubber Band Fairy has succeeded once again.