Everywhere I look are messages – they’re ubiquitous and relentless. Some are for me, some not.
“Sign, sign
Everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery
Breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that
Can’t you read the sign?”
My social conditioning began before I was born. But those cultural structures that compelled a way of life felt unnatural to me. So, rebellion and cheekiness became my routine. That served me well for a long time. Then it didn’t.
Serendipity and providence brought me a community that teaches the definition of insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Seriously. So, in order to not drown in the deep end of the pool I listened and took note. And watched for my signs.
Being inclined to figure out the messages meant or me – only me, not you; takes willingness and persistence. A healthy dose of self-awareness is essential, as is a dash of stubbornness. Not everyone is eager to inspect these deep crevices; but I’m game to take the red pill.
Deconstructing the life I was born into and creating one I want to live takes energy. It’s an evolving, repetitious, uncomfortable yet rewarding calling. Some days its full steam ahead. Others I’m running on fumes.
Looking for and trusting MY signs is important. They tell me when to leap with no obvious landing pad in sight. When to power through “the long slog between starting and mastery.” When to rest and fill my tank. How to keep going.
There is no end point on this journey. The journey is the point.
“So, I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign
I said, “Thank you, Lord, for thinkin’ ’bout me. I’m alive and doin’ fine.”
―The Five Man Electrical Band; Signs
