With anticipation, I clicked over to Edenland this morning, to see what the Fresh Horses Brigade challenge for this week is.
"It's a sign!"All day it has been running through my mind.
This evening, I am exhausted and somehow picking up energy from an imaginary place so I can write this, after a day of sitting in the rain, with cold, wet feet (having given up on my sodden shoes hours ago), hoping and longing for the rain to slow down at least enough to do even a shortened version of our hoops act at the Festival. We hooped in the rain anyway, but just for fun. If you spin a hoop fast enough, it DOES catch more of the raindrops, so we invented the "Hoopbrella!"
I love these blog challenges of Eden's. So here is her challenge.
What let's me know I am safe in this world?
What gives me that moment of comfort, knowing that I have been shown again, someone or something has my back?
Eden asks "what's your own personal sign that things will be ok?"
I have thought much about this today. Had interesting discussions with a friend. Thought back to times when I might have needed a sign and tried to remember through the brain fog if I possibly found one.
And I didn't. Don't have one. Don't have a Guardian Angel, no mystical being checking on me. That feeling has eluded me and while I can think of times I might have liked one, that sense that something greater is looking out for my welfare has not been an aspect of my life.
I have felt people nearby. People who have passed on, like my Gran and my Cynthia baby girl. My cat, Tayo, once. They felt like they were visiting, saying hello and it was nice, because I miss them. Even though I never met my Gran (well, once when I was two but I don't remember it) or Cynthia, of course, pregnancy loss no. 5 as she is otherwise known.
My Marmie's Great Uncle met me for the first time last year and he was quite startled by how much I resemble Gran. Which was so nice, since we never knew how I fitted into the DNA of our family. I feel a great affinity to this woman, whom I cannot recall meeting, whose shoes I wore as a teen, whose sewing box I keep my needles and threads in, whose eyes I look out through, who suffered the same PND and depressions I did.
I don't feel she is looking out for me. Just there. Occasionally.
After all this pondering, I think signs might be like religion. They are something you choose to believe in, because it comforts you. Without proof. On faith. And I don't have faith. I don't believe in an afterlife. I only believe in a NOW.
I do get vibes. We bought our house because it felt happy. I chose my first car because it made me smile. The evil Diva dominatrix girl-kitten that I chose to share our lives was picked because she stood out from the others with a glow that was not visible. If I pay attention to my instinct, it's usually pretty smart.
What does give me comfort... or at least brings a smile to my face, are those tiny moments in the day when I see or feel or hear something beautiful. A nasturtium leaf with a raindrop nestled in it. Feel a soft breeze caress my cheek. Hear the trill my Diva Cat makes when she is content. An unasked for kiss from my Princess. Standing near the top of the mountains, in the morning fog, with the wind causing the trees to sway and blowing the cool mist into my uplifted face.
|Waiting for the bus Thursday morning. I could have stood here, face raised into the wind, for hours.|
I love the wind
Wind on my face
That makes the world feel right