Signs

There are so many different types of signs.

Stop signs.

Street signs.

Warning signs.

Signs of love.

Signs of hate.

Signs of the times.

Good signs.

Bad signs.

Hand signs.

Plus signs.

Reading-between-the-lines signs......................

It seems to me that there should be a rule that when you come across one--at least, a really important one--then, some sort of instructions should come with it. Kind of like a sign with the sign. An interpretation. An explanation. A footnote.

Because I've been told SO many times that the Lord, and Fate, and Karma, and WhoKnowsWhatElse work in mysterious ways. And usually, those works are shown in signs. The Trick is knowing when you're getting one, or seeing one--a real-live, relevant sign from some other Power That Be. It all seems so nice, doesn't it? So comforting. So-glad-to-know-someone's-looking-out-for-me.

The problem is, that throughout the course of the day, or the week, or the month, or the year, I'm bombarded with signs. Some of them I follow. Some of them, like this one, I shouldn't (long story). But I worry that most of them--the ones that might be worth noting--I probably just miss. And the ones I do come across, I don't know what what to think about, or if I should think about them at all. Like the crystal blue forget-me-not found on a bench, or the flying 50-pound chimney cover that missed my head by an inch.

I guess it shouldn't matter. Some signs are easier to follow than others. And if someone IS looking out for me, planting signs, some of which I see, and eventually, I end up in the places I'm supposed to be, then maybe I don't need those directions with the signs, afterall. Maybe I'll just settle into being comfortable, bumbling along, enjoying what it means to be me.