The Year of Signs

There's something about feelings. Goodness, does it ever seem like they endlessly pop up to remind you of something? It does for me. Heart says, "Hmmm, even the word 'feelings', we hum for." They're in everything, this ever sign that whatever I'm hearing, seeing, smelling, saying, touching--resonates.

Resonates

That's a word for this year, this year of "something big is coming." I haven't met it yet, but I'll tell you that it's true. I have this feeling. 2019 was the year I started my blog. It was the year I lost a whole bunch. And it was an awakening. That's what makes this year something divine --it can't help but be-- because something big always follows an awakening. There was a year of summer-- endless bliss, a year of fall and winter-- cold and rough, and now, there's nothing to do but bloom. It is the beginning of a decade. It is Spring.

I have this photo in my mind of my apartment-- the big cozy couch, the white cupboards in the kitchen, long bathroom mirror, and my room. In this home of mine, I am just settling in. Along with my furniture, groceries, and shoes, have moved in "The Me's." An inspired one called "Little Miss Entrepreneur" hangs out on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs, leaned so far forward in excitement that she just might fall off, yada-yada-yada-ing about starting a dog walking business. My little dream of writing love stories is kicked back on the recliner, munchin' on kettle corn and taking notes on telanovellas. In the shower while I'm putting on my makeup is little me either singing Beach-y Boys or brainstorming about the next big adventure. There's one girl that went to Greece for quite some time, and a few weeks back, showed up at the door, suitcase full of herb- y things, fortune cookies, and souvenirs, ready to move in.

"Oh... hello. I suppose it's been a while... come in," I say. Come in, she does. And in the following days, instead of spending her time having dark chocolate, cherry mousse and talking wild with the other mystics, she sits on the floor of the living room, peacefully watching telanovellas with kettle corn, chillin' out in each other's company, not saying anything at all, just smiling friendly when anybody pops on by, unless it's me. Then she looks up, and I suppose it's because she knows that in a short while, we will become best friends.

We do. One day, I simply decide to have some kettle corn and hang out for a bit. Then I hear her speak for the first time since her arrival. She points out the balcony door, past the granola's watering their tomatoes, and to the sky. "Ripple clouds. Guess the weather's going to change soon." I think to myself, "What the stars?" And turn back to the flick.

One day I put Moose's leash on and open the door, then ask if anyone wants to walk with us. The granola's are busy so they pass, though they usually jump for a nature walk, but she says yes. And it's while we're out strolling quietly, when upon sight of a sign that reads, "dog park ahead," I remember who she is. It's been a few years since I've seen her and I've forgotten what role she plays among the Me's. I know she is eccentric and ruled by her heart, but now I remember everything: She is the girl of signs, the one that believes in a purpose for every little thing. And suddenly, my little crystal ball knows what I'm thinking, she's seen it coming all along, so she turns to look at me, and we each smile.

We've been inseparable ever since.

I suppose this is the same story as the girl that loves the color yellow growing up, then when she turns fifteen claims that it's baby-ish and throws everything out, only to wake up one morning in a few years and notice the golden glow of the sun through her window as she cooks pancakes before her 9 AM Renaissance Art class and falls in love with lemons and sunflowers all over again.

This was me saying goodbye to the signs and telling them I was done listening and wanted to make my own decisions. And this was me not knowing quite how much I'd miss them as I tried navigating the world without the golden glow of a yellow sun. It was a lesson to be learned only from losing them, that I have a choice always, but that it can be fun to pop open a fortune cookie and think about what it could mean, apply it to whatever has happened, or watch it come true. It seems to me now that these things aren't always divine messages, but sometimes; just a simple something to think about.

Truly, I am a crystal ball type.

I do believe in the traditional idea of a sign being a "sign" a "get out there and do it!" or a bad omen, but I also believe they can be very minimally woowoo. If you think about it, everything is something a human or two thought about and brought to life. At one point, all there had been were leaves, rocks, and dirt. Everything was an idea and everything was, at some point, a bit woowoo and umbelievable. That being said, maybe it's a lovely idea to open up to something that isn't concrete. Maybe that doesn't at all mean it's not helpful.

All in all, this year for me is beginning to look like "one for the signs." I've opened up my heart and mind. Though they've always been there, I see them when I look for them. And whether or not you would believe they're a divine or cosmic message-- or a simple connection your mind makes between two things to solve some lil brain Q's, I encourage you to open up and look for them. Because sometimes you'll see or hear or taste or smell or touch something and have one of those feelings we talked about earlier. Maybe it will be some sort of resonating and that will be your sign that whatever you just met has some sort of tie to you. Maybe it will be something entirely different. Either way, these little hums can be similar to the advice you find from your best friend in a conversation at your favorite place. And they're from some part of you which makes them even better. My advice to you, as someone that wants to see you happy, is to listen for the hums and watch for the signs. Even if it's just the silly little things.

Love you lots, Ally Mia