I am at a crossroads. Go back to the familiar and rebuild the life I left behind, or continue putting my faith in the unknown and believing that anything is possible.
I was inspired by a recent post by a favorite blogger of mine, candidkay, about how some of us “signed up for the PhD program in life, while our seemingly lucky friends decided upon the correspondence course.”
There are some of us who are just drawn to more diverse experiences, greater contrast, and more depth than some of our friends who are happily enjoying dinner with their kids each night. We don’t know what it would feel like to live these apparently peaceful and content lives… just as they cannot understand our restless hearts.
Even if I could rebuild what I had – a lovely home, good-paying job, and a kind husband – would it make me happy this time around? Or have my rather unique life experiences ruined any hope of going back? I read somewhere that there are no wrong paths. That even if we initially start in the wrong direction, we naturally gravitate towards where we want to be. “All roads lead to Rome,” the proverb says.
I tend to wake up somewhere between the hours of 3am and 5am. I consider this my “bewitching hour” in that I usually get some of my most inspiring ideas and clarifying insights in the wee hours of the morning. But when I’m feeling anxious, my mind wanders into very dark places.
Over the last few weeks, rather than allowing my thoughts to run amok, I have started praying. I’ll start off by saying that I am very open to the “who” part. My religious upbringing finds comfort in naming him “God,” my spiritual lifestyle prefers the “Universe,” and my quantum physicist father would having me leaning towards understanding “energy.” I’ve combined the three in that I pray to God on behalf of others and the good of mankind; I converse with the Universe when I’m desiring something new and lovely in my life; and I feel pure reverence when I connect with infinite energy that stirs my soul.
One particular morning, I prayed for a sign… well, signs (plural) actually. I can be a bit oblivious sometimes so better to request a few just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
The signs started with a single red rose on the floor in the elevator. When was the last time I got flowers? From the Universe no less? Then when I started my car, the radio was playing a favorite of mine, Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive.” Quite the feat in this part of the world. Then things just started to align. A friend I haven’t heard from in ages called to tell me how excited she is that I am returning, I was referred to a shipping company that actually offers decent rates, and I have a soft place to land and get my bearings. And as I walked to the market this morning, I saw a new splash of graffiti saying, “Té amo” with a large red heart next to the older artwork of, “quem é você” (who are you).
Who am I? Well the Universe, with the help of some crafty graffiti artists have endearingly answered that for me. I am loved.
I may not know which way I’m heading just yet, but I do know that the Universe is supporting me every step of the way.