I’m in a period of disillusionment about the Universe. I have always been a big believer in signs and that the Universe has been sending me signs to guide me along my path.
Some examples: My cat caught my eye in the shelter because her name is Buttercup. That’s my favorite wildflower. I was born Dec. 7, so 7s indicate to me things are flowing in the right direction. When my favorite obscure songs come on wherever I am, it stops me in my tracks. I have been stringing things like this together like clues and points on a map guiding me to some unknown destination.
I compulsively followed these signs and I’m rather certain everyone has thought that I am crazy. And I liked it that way. This communication between me and the unknown made sense to me. I collected all the signs and synchronicities like little jewels made just for me and precious only to me.
Movies like “Fools Rush In” and “Serendipity” were rare parts of mainstream entertainment that spoke of following the signs from the Universe. In both films, the female lead characters come to a point where they say they don’t believe in signs or fate or destiny anymore. That’s where I am today.
I’m at the point of my own rom-com where I don’t know what to believe right now. I am stamping “Return to Sender” and “Address Unknown” on all the signs from the Universe. Like, “Thanks, that’s cute of you. I remember when I whimsically thought that meant something.”
I remember following my heart all over this country and all over this world. Leaning in to the learning and the experimentation. Willing to come up with dead ends some days and beautiful fistfuls of treasures on others. For most of this year, I was completely convinced I had stumbled into a major part of my plotline.
Two years ago, I went into a metaphysical shop in Huntington Beach with Penny. Penny asked if I wanted to get a reading, so I did. I tend to follow most any suggestion that Penny makes. At that time, there wasn’t much that I wanted or needed in terms of guidance. I had just two burning questions: One was about a necklace I had lost and the other was about my cat, Kitty, who had died in April.
When I asked the psychic about Kitty, she looked at me with eyebrows raised. “You want to know about your cat? Ok… are you sure you don’t want to know about your career or romance?”
I truly wanted to know if Kitty was at peace or reincarnated as Buttercup, which is what I believed. She said that Kitty had gone and come back within the span of about six weeks. Which is about the time between when Kitty died and when Buttercup was picked up by the shelter.
Then the psychic again insisted about telling me about some man. Ok, whatever. Go right ahead. I truthfully didn’t want to hear about any man. I was not in the mood for men. She then proceeded to tell me that in two years I would meet a man who would be very tall, with blue eyes and dark hair. He would be a sailor of some sort and financially stable and he would love me. “When you meet this man and you know it’s this man, call me,” she said.
“Yeah, sure, I totally will,” I thought. And I walked out dismissing it all but the part about Kitty being Buttercup. However, I scribbled down that information about the man in my journal that year, put it on a shelf and forgot about it.
Then in February, I met someone who fit this description. It took me about two months after meeting him to realize he fit this description. I knew the night we met things felt very guided by the Universe and there were so many signs that I had to not think about them too much in the moment otherwise I would have gone careening off the planet. To illustrate, when I saw him, the thought in my head was, “There he is.” That’s, like, not the normal thing I think when I see a perfect stranger. (“The Ballad of Love and Hate” by the Avett Brothers is playing on shuffle on Spotify. Formerly a sign. Perhaps just an algorithm.)
Let me cut to the chase, as now it is months later and this man is not here with me. It utterly makes no sense to me. The signs were all there. Heaps of them. I was like Scrooge McDuck in his treasure vault, sitting atop my millions of signs.
I learned a lot about myself this year. I learned how many things have been holding me back and I learned about subconscious fears that were ruling my life. I learned so many things that have propelled me forward and reshaped me into a better version of myself. Is that all the signs were meant to make me see?
So what do I do? I am grateful for all the signs, experiences and lessons. There is a little pit in the bottom of my stomach when I think of this prediction and how convinced I was that I had met this man. Sure, none of it made sense. It didn’t have to make sense by any logical definitions. In my heart it made sense, in my soul it made sense and that’s all I care about.
And yet, I am standing here in front of the Universe with my jaw dropped and my hands empty except for these words hastily scrawled on a page of my journal. Time hurries on and I must go with it and for now I will be looking at signs with nostalgia and always a bit of hope.