I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, and it’s only 9:10 a.m. The summer, like the day, is early, and we just returned from a week in Ohio. We did the things you do in Ohio: we ate at Skyline and La Rosa’s, we went to the Air Force Museum and Carillon Park (where I used to be a bright young thing of a tour guide all through high school), Xander and Gary went with my father in law to a Reds game. We swam and we played bingo. It was nice.
Yesterday we returned to 90+ degree temperatures, so we took a protesting and coming down with a cold Xander to the fountains downtown, and to the new bookstore near the square. For whatever reason a sour mood lingered, like a cloud of mustard gas over us, but it eventually dissipated and receded and we went home.
I keep asking for signs from the Universe. I’m very good at this, back when we were hemming and hawing over our move to Alaska I kept looking to the stars and the ground for answers. I had a job that I l-o-v-e-d working in the children’s room of the library downtown, Gary’s work was slowly dwindling due to the recession but he had just finished a stint as Best Boy on a film that brought him a lot of joy, pride, and camaraderie. But still. We were being pulled upwards by our hair. I asked God, the Universe, and Everything for direct lightning bolt signs of truth and affirmation. Shake the Magic 8 Ball. You may rely on it.
One day during my lunch hour at the library I was thinking that our dilemma was particularly quixotic and idiotic,; why on Earth should we do something so bold and so vague? We didn’t even have jobs up there, it was cold up there, we would have to sell our house and the majority of our belongings, we’d be leaving our families (who were only a 4-5 hour drive away if we stayed down South), our son was just a little guy, why in the world would we yank him away? I decided to walk the stone labyrinth path at the Episcopal church courtyard next to work. In my head I simply asked the Universe the question: Alaska? Alaska? Alaska? When I reached the end of the circular maze, it was time to return to work. I left the quiet courtyard, filled with magnolias and stained glass and a koi pond, turned the corner, and almost collided with a big parked truck, butt up against the curb.
Its bumper was angled a bit, and the license plate caught my eye. Tennessee’s plates are white and green. The truck’s was the unmistakable golden-yellow of an Alaska license plate. Alaska. A truck from Alaska, parked right in front of me, right after I asked and asked the Universe whether we should move there over, and over again. I mean really, how often does one see Alaska plates this far South? Almost never, and that’s why they stick out.
Signs from the Universe. I am usually pretty deft at spotting them and being open to them. The past few days, I’ve been scouring the ground and the sky for them again. Although this time my questions are vaguer and more philosophical. They mainly involve writing, and direction, and what path to take. The signs that have returned have been even vaguer, really. I think I just need to listen and look a bit closer.
Silver Fin of Hope 
I was a little jarred even by the title of this entry, since signs are on my mind this morning.
A large part of me doesn’t believe in signs. That part believes there are just really interesting coincidences.
Another part of me fully believes in signs. Yesterday, when the lady who hit me handed me her insurance card, I saw the lady shared my mom’s name and had that bizarre feeling of recognition something outside myself was happening. I wondered if it was a sign from my mom.
Then I got home and found that Ba.D.’s grandma was hospitalized yesterday after going to the ER for severe anemia. And I recalled that moment, and that strange sensation I’d just witnessed a sign . . .
I like the clearer signs like trucks better, but . . . there may be something in these ones, too.
Deborah, I just want to thank you so much for visiting me and commenting. Your words are always poignant and thought-provoking. I love how you put…”that something outside of myself was happening…” It’s wonderful when we can step outside of ourselves and see the world as it is, glimmering behind the veil.
Pingback: Love, an insurance card, & the Heart-Head War « The Monster in Your Closet
I look for signs too, Chrissy. I think the appeal is that we don’t have to deal with the regret of potentially making a bad choice if we feel we were guided to that choice. Unfortunately (and to my great consternation), I also believe in the sharpshooter fallacy and figure that what may seem rational or connected is chaotic or coincidental.
But what I do believe, unreservedly, is that you can and should trust your feelings. Deep below rational logic, if you sense that something is ‘the right thing to do’ – follow that. I think that applies to all things – what you should eat, where you should live, who you should speak to, how you should respond.
xx
Absolutely, Katie. I think it’s also about knowing what’s the “wrong thing to do” or the “wrong” person to be with or with whom you spend your time. I have removed myself from many potentially dangerous/dreadful situations just by trusting my gut instinct. Another theory is that our brains create these little hints/signs from stored up images/knowledge etc. to help us make decisions or keep away from bad situations. Regardless as to whether it’s a higher power, or our brain chemistry, or a higher power that created our brain chemistry/nature to see/feel such things, I do strongly believe in signs.