84: Is That A Sign?
She asks the universe for signs: signals to tell her when to step away, to turn, to leave; as indications of disasters approaching; crucial evidence to keep her insecurities at bay; as demonstrations of love; sometimes as a deft hand to guide her words; pointers to her many moods; as promises of things making sense; proof to dispel the notion of loneliness; as a manifestation to brighter, happier days; as testimony to the incredible fragility of being human.
She asks the universe for the secret to going on, and a map to the abandoned path where the fulfilled once wandered.
These words flew out of my mind one morning, early, before the sun had made its presence punishingly unmissable in the sky. And in that moment, where the sky overhead was still soft, and a hint of coolness loitered in the air, not yet driven away, I sat down to talk to the universe too. And here’s what it told me.
There is magic to be found everywhere; the universe whispers to me, before I can ask it for anything, before I can elucidate any of my needs. Perhaps it is truly all-knowing for it shows me things that morning - ordinary things, everyday things, and yet ones that leave me deeply sated.
A single strand of a spiderweb flows across the study window, gleaming in the light, dancing in the wind. And in the middle of my home, I am suddenly transported to the outdoors, to the lush green cool of the forest’s embrace.
I can find what I need right here, if I look.
And that happens, again.
At The Pond makes it way to me courtesy of an impromptu visit to the bookstore. In spite of promising myself that I wasn’t going to buy books until I made some headway with my tsundoku, I submit to its allure and return home with it.
Unfathomably, no one around me can seem to understand why I’m so drawn to it. Even when I explain - London + pond + women + writers.
But the book understands the reverence with which I hold it; it hears the slight intake of my breath when a sentence finds its way into my heart, and it can smell the tears welling up in my eyes and so page by page, it flows into my soul, and I find myself immersed in a wild pond too.
My days have been spent sorting through the 31 new songs of TTPD available to me, letting the music find its way into me, and letting Taylor Swift’s words leave their mark across my being. She writes in I Hate It Here:
I hate it here, so I will go to
Secret gardens in my mind
People need a key to get to
The only one is mine
I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child
And I feel seen, in a way I haven’t felt in a terribly long time.
Has she plucked these words out of my body, separating this exact emotion from the blood that flows in my veins? And the universe grins knowingly, smug in its fifteen thousandth attempt to show me that I’m not alone.
Later in the week, P brings home two field guides on birds, and mid-conversation he opens Salim Ali’s The Book of Indian Birds to a random page and begins to read out the description of the first bird he sees on the page - a bar-headed goose (which just happens to be the latest bird I’ve fallen in love with at first sight).
Coincidence, chance, or fate? Who can tell what invisible strings bind us together; for after all they are invisible!
One afternoon, in the midst of a conversation that leaves me on the verge of unravelling, I see that emotions last briefly. They flash in, and disappear too; like lightning, threatening to take over but gone in the blink of an eye. Instead it’s the thoughts those emotions trigger that stay with me; this obsessive need to intellectualise and overthink everything, this obsessive need that asks for rationality and explanations everywhere. And the universe simply sighs, and raises an eyebrow at my lofty expectations.
What do you ask the universe when you sit down to converse with it, reader? Do you look for answers, or do you find comfort in merely voicing the questions that dwell in your insides? Does it send you the signs you’re waiting for?
POSTCARDS FROM APRIL
Yummy yellows are to be found everywhere: in sunny yolks, chipped floors, cattle egrets and fraying leaves. All of April has floated away softly, a soothing vignette of a month.
Thank you for reading Soul Gazing. If you enjoyed this post, please share it!
I’d love to hear your thoughts! Drop a comment here, or reply back to my e-mail and tell me if you’ve spotted your signs, and what you’ve been seeing courtesy the universe.
Love,
Sukriti