Some beautiful messaging from the universe happened tonight. I came home to find one of my SASE envelopes, dutifully addressed to and from me, with a Love (forever) stamp on the face, empty. The envelope, carefully addressed, posted and returned to my attention was empty. The seal had broken, so the contained missive had slipped into the great limbo for untraceable generic notes in some post office nook.I would never receive the standard language rejection notice Carolina Quarterly had intended for my reading. Somehow a stamp from the sender had ended up on the envelope, and that was the only third party mark on it.
There are at least two readings of this non-event available to me. (Let’s clarify the facts first: how do I know it was a rejection slip? I know because if a publication likes you, it contacts you directly in personal ways via cell or email.)
Reading One: the envelope is empty, all that has been given back to me was mine in the first place. All that you send out into the universe returns to you in its own special way.
Reading Two: the envelope is empty, that is all the information necessary to convey the rejection message clearly. The emptiness is the message. Some blank spaces hold the power to evoke meaning.
I like both readings. The empty envelope is now taped to my wall, with all my other rejection slip trophies.
PS: I am undaunted. I will continue to submit to my writings to literary outlets and provide labeled and stamped SASE envelopes to my correspondents so they can reject me with minimal effort.