Saturday, February 25, 2012

Your Own Sign

Driving home from a particularly irritating circus gig, I saw a sign.

No, literally. I saw a woman holding a sign. It was bright pink.  I was intrigued.  Hand-written in sharpie marker, I struggled to read the words.  Then I saw them. Three awe-inspiring words:
Girl Scout Cookies.
I whipped in that parking lot. I searched my car for $3.50.  I ate half a sleeve before I even got home (I know, and yes, I am). Thin Mints, in case you were wondering.  Has anyone else noted that they are not actually "thin" nor do they keep you thin, and that they are more chocolate than mint?  But I suppose the name "Chubby Chocolates" would really put a dent in cookie sales.

But I digress. 

The point is, sometimes we have to make our own signs.  We have to grab brightly colored paper, thick sharpie markers and write our message for the world to see.  Whether this is a service we can offer or a need to be fulfilled.  Whether is just a statement to be heard or noticed by anybody.  Write your own sign. Kind of like living your own truth, but better. 
my sign! 
Because by writing your own sign, you are stacking the deck.  And every now and then, why shouldn't you?  Our magicians with the circus get paid to do it.  And for them, it works out just fine.  Even magically for you spectators. 

So gather your supplies. Write your own sign.You never know who will be attracted to you because of it. Dare to say the magic words.  And stack the deck. 

Friday, February 17, 2012

Sign of Hope--To Be

As you may, or may not, recall one of my many talents- courtesy of one of my jobs- happens to be palm reading.While I dare not guess about your future, I can tell you all sorts of things about who you are, how you think, what is new in your life, etc.

Having done a lot of palming reading lately, I have discovered a sign. And I am sure it is rather obvious, once stated, but please stick with me here.

Everyone wants to have a sign of Hope.  Whether you are poor, rich, young, old, or extraterrestrial.   And everyone wants a sign of Hope.  Some people hope to be remembered.  Others hope for a chance.

I hope to be the change I wish to see in the world.

So I end each reading with Hope.  I save the best, most positive uplifting thing I read in the hand for the very last words that I say.  The words may flow from my mouth, but they fall into the open hand that I am holding. Hope, in your hands.  The next step is yours.

But honestly, I do it for myself.  I leave the hope in your hands as a sign for me, of Hope-to Be.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Because A Wish Can Be A Sign Too

Everybody has had at least one storybook kiss.

So in honor of Valentine’s Day, here is a sign and my kiss.

It was an evening wedding in October. It was the first time I ever saw my then-boyfriend in a tux. He thought he looked hot. I rolled my eyes at him every time he looked at me. But I thought he looked good too.

The night wind rolled up the vineyard and through the open doors of the reception. We held hands and wandered onto the patio. Just to talk. Just to hold hands. Just to be so enamored with love and each other and the night and the air and the wine…

Then came that moment when all went suddenly still. He leaned in and kissed me, and I swear he kissed me straight to my heart.

Are you ready for the magical moment?

When I opened my eyes, I saw a shooting star.
Right there across the velvet sky.
I gasped and he pulled me closer.
“Did you see it?”
“Can you believe it?”
And two more stars shot across the October sky.
“It is a sign,” I whispered.
“Make a wish,” he insisted as he kissed me.  It was poetry.
As W. H. Auden wrote:

How would we like it were the stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If unequal affections must be,
Let the more loving one be me.

While my wish from that night hasn’t come true yet, I did learn a few things. I learned I have the capacity to be the more loving one and to love a more loving one. I learned I am worthy of storybook kisses. I learned to look to the stars for signs. Because they are always there.

And one day I will make them fall again.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Friday, February 10, 2012

A Sign I Could Have Passed Chemistry

Oz was online last night. (Remember him, from The Yellow Brick Road, part I.) In case you were absolutely dying to know, I have not progressed any further with him. But I have ruby slippers, flying monkeys, and time on my side, right?

Anyway he was updating a status, claiming (and this may be a direct quote) that "I'm a little stopped up at the moment--no, not what you're thinking--but in the sense of work, school, projects. With chaos eventually comes order."

And being witty and enamored, I couldn't help but correct him. Because in fact, with order comes chaos.

I know this because I failed the third installment of what evil scientists call chemistry. This segment of chemistry contained entropy, which does in fact prove that the more orderly something is, the faster it succumbs to chaos. Which is really fascinating and a great argument for children to not clean their rooms, or for me to not organize my clothes drawers--it is out of self preservation, people!

That installment of chemistry dealt with a lot of math and other abstract ideas relating to thermodynamics (dark matter, enthalpy, fractions) that were fun to talk about but awful to test on.

Which might I add, makes perfect sense. The harder my professor tried to organize and simplify these concepts for me, the faster they disintegrated in my brain. Entropy in action, my friends.

So here we have scientific proof that nothing in life is neat and orderly and simple. So why on earth should I expect love to be??

A sign I could have passed chemistry.

It is also a sign from the Universe saying, "You'll be okay kid. Just follow the Yellow Brick Road and who knows who you'll have chemistry with along the way."

A Sign From Einstein

Today I went back to my high school for the first time since I graduated.  I had some paperwork to drop off for my brother.  I remembered how much of a giant I felt like by the time I graduated- I felt like I had grown too big for the school, the city, too big for everything.  Today I didn't feel very big at all.

If you are anything like me, you tend to believe in the theories left behind by Einstein.  He had this famous theory of general relativity. If you wikipedia it, you will read something about mass-energy, differential equations, and other strange combinations of letters. If you are like me again, you believe that Einstein's main goal in life was to inspire others to think on their own.

I am inspired to interpret his theory along the lines of the title. 


Everything is relative.

I felt so small today, because when I graduated I was certain that by the age I am now I would have ______ (more? a west coast home? a degree in biology? To be honest, I am not really sure).  Compared to my best friend, who is living in Arizona, on his way to a high paying degree, is in the Honors Program, will graduate on time...compared to him I haven't done too much. But everything is relative.  And in theory, this relative concept of time puts us where we need to be when we need to be there.

In a fantasy inspired by Albert Einstein, I imagined myself sitting on the marble steps of my high school, talking with my high-school-self.  I wouldn't bother to ask her how she was doing, because we both know I would already know that answer. But if I got the chance to tell my high-school-self anything, I think I would tell her to not discredit the opportunities and challenges she will rise to meet in pursuit of her plans. 

And when she got done processing that, she would look at me and ask, "How are we doing?"

And I could honestly answer, "Relatively okay."

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Sign of Love

After a couple of long nights up with my mom, who is newly recovering from her knee replacement surgery, my dog Mayzie and I are tired. Pooped.  But both of us know that staying up with her late at night is exactly where we need to be and we are happy to do it. 

Mayzie's unfailing call to duty and unconditional love is more than that of a dog. 

She displays the simplest and purest of loves. And that love forces me to realize something.

When we first got her as a little puppy, I was an excited grade schooler, ready to have the perfect golden retriever puppy. Because then she would turn into the perfect dog.  She would never get sick or misbehave or make me mad. She would be perfect.

But here she is, nine years later.

And she is far from perfect.  She has calluses on her rear.  She has bad breath.  She is very lumpy.  She sometimes smells funny. She likes to chew apart stuffed toys.  She has a very short attention span.

And because of all of that, because of the countless late nights and imperfect moments, she has become the perfect dog.  And she has inspired the best of loves within me.

I love her, lumps bumps burps and all.

So while my mom is recovering from her knee surgery, Mayzie and I are going to be patient.  We are going to be helpful. And we are going to remind her that we love her, swollen lumps late nights and many ice packs later.

It is more than a sign of family. It is a sign of love.

Friday, February 3, 2012


Be careful walking on coals the wise man said. People have been known to occasionally get their toes burnt.
courtesy of

Oh you mysterious wise men. I probably should have listened to you sooner. 

See, there is an incorrect implied meaning here.  People normally take this quote to mean that sooner or later you will slip up and get hurt when you are doing something dangerous.

But let me introduce a new perspective. This isn't about the people who are doing the "dangerous" act.  It is about those watching.  See, the by-standers don't like it when the status quo interrupted. Things must be as they always are, they insist. 

Then they see those brave enough to walk on coals or swallow fire (literally or metaphorically) and something must be done to dissuade others.  What if everyone walked around with that kind of bravery or confidence?!

Be careful walking on coals, because occasionally people have been known to get pushed, assaulted, criticized, or worse.

Be careful.

But the funny thing is, the longer you stay down on those coals, the more your toes get burnt.