“I bet you’re excited about your art opening and book launch this week!” My friend emailed. She continued, “I’m sick I can’t be there. Know I will be with you in spirit.” My friend was one of the close to one hundred RSVPs “No” I had received in the past two weeks. Folks were traveling, and there were a number of competing events in Asheville. And despite 25 years of public relations experience, I had only been able to generate one tiny article, and that was three weeks ago. Was the Universe sending me a message?

On Tuesday, Don and I hung the show; it looked great, but as Thursday night closed in, my anxiety rose. What if only a few people showed up? I didn’t want to embarrass myself, and I didn’t want to disappoint my friends who were kind enough to offer the exhibition space.

I confided my insecurity with a group of dear friends. “Of course, you’re nervous, Randy,” they emphasized. “You’re sharing some pretty vulnerable stuff—not only in your art, but in your writing.” Another wise friend reminded me that the number of people who showed up for the opening wasn’t the only measure of success. I was attached to a specific outcome. For heaven’s sakes, it was an opening. Perhaps I needed to be a little more open.

I have been recently writing about the Buddhist notion of non-attachment, and now I had an opportunity to practice it. Paring the words with my breath, I silently repeated the prayer: “Into Your hands.”

Thursday morning, at my YMCA spinning class, I continued repeating my mantra. When the song “Tonight is going to be a good night” came on, I laughed knowing my prayer had been answered. It was going to be a good night—no, a great night—no matter who did—or didn’t—show up.

Don and I arrived a half hour early to set up the bar to find two beautiful floral arrangements sent by out-of-town friends. Fifteen minutes later, two friends walked in with two more arrangements composed of glorious flowers from their garden. As the guests started to trickle in, I was able to spend a little quality time with each. Unlike past openings, I was more relaxed and present. Before I knew it, a small crowd had gathered: old friends, new friends, and a number of people I had never met.

I had arranged for each guest to receive a “You are divine” sticker with the book’s logo. Standing in the middle of the room, I saw not only the stickers, but more importantly each divine soul wearing one. My heart swelled. Gratitude replaced anxiety, and love overcame fear.