how signs from the universe are really confirmations of what we already know
Signs from the universe are really signs from ourselves, aren't they?
We look for confirmation out side of ourselves of things we know deep down
and we call them signs.
There's no committee sitting up in the heavenly sphere arranging circumstances to show us
what we should be doing with our lives, is there?
Well, maybe there is, but if I'm tuning my inner antenna toward the heavens without tuning it in
to myself I might be missing important cues.
Like this summer. I worked part time in an office for 3 months and taught at night. During that time
I had a sharp, stiffening pain in my upper back. It hurt when I tried to lift anything. It screamed when I reached out in front of me. All summer I popped pain killers (that were meant for my knee) just to keep my back from hurting too badly. My chiropractor worked on it. My orthopedist examined me to be sure I didn't have nerve damage from using the crutches for so long. I suffered.
The symptoms were real. My pain was real but I had a weird feeling the pain was psychosomatic.
It would have made sense to think that it was a reaction to my father's illness, surgery and roller-coaster hospital stay but the back pain started before I even knew he had cancer.
The pain started shortly after I accepted the office position.
The only time it subsided a bit was when I gave my two months notice (I wanted to stay till they could replace me), but then it returned full force.
On August 26 I trained my replacement. She's a lovely person who's perfect for the position. I have confidence in her. Once I passed the torch to her and really gave up the position I felt the burden lift off of me....off of my back.
The pain is gone.
I can move, I can reach, I can lift.
Was it a sign?
Now what I COULD have regarded as a sign that the office job was a poor fit was the absence of Jonathan.
Jonathan is the chipmunk that hangs out just outside the office window.
During my training back in June I saw him every day.
When I drove my mother past the building where I was to work she spotted him.
That's when she exclaimed, "Call him Jonathan!"
I did.
But when I officially began working the position he vanished.
I didn't see him at all for the past three months.
I even scattered nuts on the lawn for him.
He was a no-show.
At one point as I was wheelchair-ing into the office I told myself that his absence was a sign.
When I first accepted the job and was all gung ho for the new experience I noticed that a key I had to a different office on campus fit the door to the office job's office. Guess there are a finite number of doorknobs in the maintenance unit. So, when I tried the door with the "wrong key" by accident and it opened I took it as a sign. It was the universe telling me that I belonged there because I had the "key" all along.
Keys, chipmunks and backaches.
Why didn't I just check in with my feelings
and honor them?
I've used "signs" as an excuse because I didn't have confidence in my own gut feelings.
Some things aren't meant to be, but they're not meant to be because we say they aren't.
Raised on Black and White TV is Carol Denise Mitchell’s intimate, unflinching memoir of growing up in a world where television became both a refuge and a mirror. Through the glow of classic black‑and‑white programs, she learned about fami
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