Friday, August 21, 2020

What's your sign?

I had a thought this morning regarding feeling like you're on the right path, knowing your calling, receiving "signs" from the universe that you're headed in the right direction, etc. I read a book recently where people explained the various ways deceased relatives still communicated with them via signs. I've read other stories about people who found their way into their current job because they knew it was their calling. For some reason, these type of topics have always fascinated me. I hang on these types of stories and want to believe them and yet I'm still kind of a skeptic. I don't have much experience with signs personally, but then again, maybe I do but don't allow myself to believe. 

My thought this morning was this: do some people receive these signs, know their calling, accept feelings of affirmation, etc., simply because they allow themselves to believe these things are true? Is that all there is to it? Could it be that simple? Meanwhile, I'm sitting over here with my brain screaming about science and confirmation bias and all the things that would point to these things simply being coincidental? My brain is always asking, "How do you know? Like, how do you REALLY know?"

I guess I've always had an obsession with doing the "right" things in the "right" way. See, my brain has been on autopilot for decades: do something right, get affirmed...over and over again. But who is the arbitrator of what's "right"? Teachers, bosses, parents, friends, some mystical "they"? I've been uncoupling myself from the idea that any of those people know any better than I do what's "right" for me, but it's an uncomfortable process.  And my thought this morning was that people who believe in signs are just people who choose to believe that they themselves are in charge of determining what's right for them.

So, here's an example from life currently. We have been talking about getting a kitten for some time. Just kind of tossing the idea around, not acting on it. We have a cat - we adopted her when she was 4. I haven't had a kitten since I was child, and, frankly, the idea of training a cat through kittenhood is a little scary. And yet, part of me still wants one. But do I really want to rock the world of my other cat? No! But also: kittens! 

A few months ago, my husband sent me a link to a livestream featuring kittens. Seven of them. All orange. Have I mentioned I love orange cats? When I do get a kitten, I want an orange kitten.  So, ever since I have been watching this kitten livestream, I have been seeing orange things in my life everywhere.  Do you have any idea how many orange cars are on the road? Previously, I would've said hardly any. But now I know it's a lot. I also found a chunk of orange sea glass on the beach: a rare find, indeed! 

"The universe keeps sending me orange things," I told my husband. "Maybe it wants me to just get an orange cat already. Ahahahaha!" So, I keep going along, seeing the orange things, telling myself, "Now I'm just looking for orange things and of course that's why I'm seeing them."  Then, a couple days ago, I pulled up behind a truck with a cartoon cat on the back who was holding a sign with the words, "There's a new cat in town." So, here's my question - are there people out there who would see all these things and simply accept them as being a sign, whereas I'm like, "Now this is too funny - it seems like a sign. I mean, it's literally a sign, but surely it's not a sign sign. I'm just interpreting it to have more meaning than it actually has because these things are already on my mind..."

I guess what I'm really asking is: am I crazy?? Do some people just accept things like this as signs and proceed accordingly? Is that all there is to it? I mean, this is a silly example, but I'm trying to understand if the only difference between me and them is a willingness to accept things and not endlessly question them.

Pandamnit!

Well, leave it to a global pandemic to go and mess things up! I didn't see that coming. Admittedly, I got derailed for a while there. I didn't keep taking care of myself the way I had been. I didn't keep up with the writing I had started doing. I started eating things I hadn't been eating. I gained back some weight. I let it mean some things about me. Then, I looked around and saw that lots of people were struggling and I cut myself some slack. After a couple months of moping, I slowly started to get my shit back together. It's still going slower than I like, but that's on me - a) for moving slowly, and b) for allowing the quiet voice to keep whispering, "you should probably be doing this a little faster." Shut up, voice. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm still moving and that's what matters.