My Soul Called Me Out in an Abandoned Parking Lot
And you know what? It was right.
I get a little giddy around my birthday. And this next one coming up is the last one in my 40s. And yes, I’ve learned a thing or two in my time. The biggest of which, something you may already know but still bears sharing is this: sometimes the most important moments happen when we least expect them.
Things I've learned: we've confused entertainment for connection, turning something essential to life into a capitalistic pursuit. When connections become revenue sources rather than sources of comfort, everything falls apart.
I also learned, or more accurately learned to accept that I am an incredibly sensitive soul who doesn't need to tough up. I need to wizen up.
And one of my biggest fears is that I'm incapable of doing so. That is until my 48th birthday.
I skipped my daily journal writing during the month of my birthday. It seems I usually do. It makes sense. That month is usually a whirlwind leaving little time to sit and reflect or think deeply. It's largely about movement and excitement, which are worthy and important too!
My youngest daughter turned 19. I turned 48. We got a new roof, a sign of protection if I'm being writerly about it.
My husband, Dave, and I had a lovely date night for my birthday. I got acupuncture in an abandoned lot turned art space, lying under an empress tree while a DJ made music from a plant using electrical currents. There were drinks in a basement jazz bar serving cocktails inspired by 1940s officer's clubs. And we dined on pâté in a world-class restaurant squeezed between a tattoo shop and an auto yard.
It was the most Baltimore experience Baltimore can serve.
The acupuncture was interesting. When the acupuncturist asked why I was there—thinking I'd mention an ailment or something bothering me—I said, "It's my birthday."
She told me that it's thought to be a good time for opening up to our soul's wishes and naturally I said, "I'm in."
She placed the wire-thin needles in and I cried instantly. "I guess it's working," I said. She placed a hand on my arm, gave it a light squeeze and said, "I'll check back in. Until then, rest."
47 had been a year of trying incredibly hard, only to realize that's not always enough.
In the quiet of my mind, surrounded by the otherworldly music the DJ was creating from a plant, I heard my soul speak to me: You are capable.
Of what, I'm not entirely sure. It feels like the sentence is incomplete, until I realize it's not. The buzzing sound of a snake plant singing across this once-abandoned lot where artists and people seeking healing gather wasn't just ambient noise - it was the soundtrack to recognition, the sound of life telling me what had always been true. This time, I promised to listen.
But there's something profound about helping others trust that voice. You are capable. We all deserve to trust ourselves. Sometimes we need a small intervention to remember. AlignVent is that intervention—that space, that moment. It's not an abandoned parking lot. I can't promise snake plants and empress trees as witnesses. But I can promise to cultivate a space as alive and grounding as the one I had.
Jennifer Cooper is the creator of the AlignVent Method and founder of AlignVent.com. She believes that transformation happens not through force, but through creating the right conditions to hear our own wisdom.
This felt so true. Thank you for: “we've confused entertainment for connection, turning something essential to life into a capitalistic pursuit. When connections become revenue sources rather than sources of comfort, everything falls apart.”