A Sign

A song played at the end of last week’s episode of This is Us. The lyrics stirred up something from deep inside me, like I’m talking on the level of my soul.

I grabbed my phone and quickly opened the Shazam app. The result came up in about 2.3 seconds: 42 by Mumford & Sons from the band’s 2018 album Delta.

I did a slight double take when I noticed the song was called 42.
Well, that’s very interesting, I thought…

I hit the button to purchase the song on Apple Music without hesitation. And I’ve pretty much been listening to it on repeat ever since.

As much as I love a nice melody or sweet harmony, the soulful strum of an acoustic guitar, the unexpected twist of a bridge, or the dynamic rise of a full orchestral crescendo (special thanks to my college Music Appreciation class for this knowledge and terminology), it’s usually the lyrics, or the message a song imparts, that evoke emotion and make it memorable, keeping me coming back for more.

I’m actually kind of obsessed with song lyrics. Case in point: I recently told a friend how I constantly think in lyrics, like pretty much ALL. THE. TIME. My husband and I have entire conversations in song lyrics, both by text and in person in a call and response fashion. AND I have a secret dream about writing song lyrics. Oops, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now and it’s really not a secret anymore.

The words are layered over chords played on an organ, as the song begins with a feeling reminiscent of a church hymn…
“Where do I turn to when there’s no choice to make? And how do I presume when there’s so much at stake?

Building…
“I was so sure, oh, of it all. And what if I need you in my darkest hour?”

Fear. Uncertainty. Isolation. I have been marinating in all the feelings, and it often feels like a certain type of darkness. So many questions plague my mind, yet so few answers have appeared.

An electric guitar is layered in over the baseline and back beat…
“And what if it turns out there is no other?”

I’ve been doubting myself again lately, in all the majorly important ways, and then I this song comes along, so unexpectedly, as the punctuation mark at the end of my most favourite TV show. Really, the only show I watch religiously each week. And it feels a bit like a hug from an old friend, as if it was played specifically for me.

Quieter, with guitar strings plucked to a staccato beat…
“If this is our last hope, we would see a sign, oh, we would see a sign.”

I’ve scoured the Internet, and I cannot find any indication of why the song is titled 42.

My mind trails off, as I think about how I am building a new foundation—one that’s based on a strong sense of my truest self. As I process and grow through my challenges, I continue to learn I am wise and wonderful and capable of anything I want to do. And I am doing everything in my power to integrate this knowledge into my way of being.

Yet, I find myself needing to learn and relearn these truths. Repeatedly teaching myself as I attempt to believe—fully and completely—in all that I am. I remind myself that I am everything I need, and that all of the answers to my own questions are already within me. I also know that as I follow this path—my yellow brick road to freedom and peace—I will continue to stumble, and to forget, from time to time.

I suppose it’s quite normal, really, for those of us who identify as seekers to look for answers, validation, and signs beyond ourselves. I believe it’s our humanity that makes it so. We are wired for connection to other humans, after all; we are literally programmed to seek out others to whom we can relate and with whom we can share this human experience. It’s a fundamental part of our existence. Through all the joy and the pain, we just need to feel like we’re not doing this life all alone.

Louder again (mezzo forte)…
“If this is our time now
we wanna see a sign, oh,
we would see a sign…”

I am exactly 42 years old (and two months plus a handful of days, if you want to get technical), and dare I say, albeit strange, this song is a very timely reminder. It’s a sign so simple and obvious that I could have easily missed it had I not been paying attention.

It is a true beacon of hope. A clear signal of inspiration. A symbolic guiding light, if you will, giving me the courage and strength I need to continue on.

Everything has been building to this precise moment. It’s a sign that, in spite of how I’ve been feeling, I am not alone. I know I am loved and supported. Life is giving me what I need in each and every moment, and everything is working out for me exactly as it should.

THIS IS MY TIME.

I thank the universe for this message of gentle reassurance, delivered in the best possible way, at the perfect time for me to hear, all while lovingly wrapped in the beautiful poetry of the special lyrics of this song.

17554338_10154279853220766_6473940656891607055_n

This is also a sign. Clever, isn’t it? Found while on vacation in Paia Town, Maui in 2017.

And, for what it’s worth, I also strongly believe this isn’t just about me. I feel compelled to share this story with you, for the universe works in strange and mysterious ways, and just in case you may also be looking for a sign of hope or reassurance, too.

So let me do a quick recap just in case you might have missed it:
You are strong enough to get through anything life throws your way.
And you are enough, period. Exactly as you are.

xo

Do you believe in signs from the universe? I’d love to hear from you!

Where do I turn to when there’s no choice to make?
And how do I presume when there’s so much at stake?
I was so sure, oh, of it all
But what if I need you in my darkest hour?
And what if it turns out there is no other?
If this is our last hope
We would see a sign, oh
We would see a sign
Well I’ve been running from the ashes we left
Forgiveness begs for itself but how can I forget
When there’s a stain on it all
But what if I need you in my darkest hour?
And what if it turns out there is no other?
We had it all
If this is our time now
We wanna see a sign, oh
We would see a sign
So give us a sign
I need some guiding light
Children of darkness, oh
Songwriters: Benjamin Walter David Lovett / Edward James Milton Dwane / Marcus Oliver Johnstone Mumford / Winston Aubrey Aladar Marshall

Lift the Sky

Life continues to show me how some events simply cannot be explained; they can only be felt. And because of who I am, the depth of my feelings, and how I process them, life can feel extremely negative and heavy at times. These are the times when my energy gets depleted, I feel drained, and then I usually wind up getting sick. This is exactly what happened to me this past Saturday morning. The one bright spot is that I’m learning to recognize the signs and triggers of this pattern, and I have gained the awareness around when I need to shift my energy toward the positive.

You may have seen a video of six-year-old, Tianna, which has been circulating on social media and gone viral, receiving over 9 million views on Facebook since last week. In the video, the young girl from Surrey, BC talks broadly and openly about the need for people to be kind to one another, while specifically focusing on her divorced parents. She has a great deal of wisdom to share, but the one message that really stood out for me was when she said: “My heart is something. Everyone else’s heart is something, too. I just want everything to be as good as possible.”

That’s right, Tianna, my heart is something. And like you, my heart is telling me the world could use a little extra positivity, love, and hope right now.

I wrote the following piece quite a while ago about an experience that had a deep and profound transformational effect on me. It shook me and woke me up and made me realize how absolutely anything is possible if you just believe.

In a moment of complete vulnerability, I am choosing to set these words free now. Releasing them is so  much more than a symbolic nod toward their meaning; it is an act of courage in letting go. And it is my intention to continue to practice letting go, as I have come to accept this as an ongoing process that must happen gradually and incrementally.

letgoMy heart is something, and this is my message of hope to the world. May all who read it find the courage they need to let go of anything that dulls their energy, keeps them stuck, suppresses their power, and holds them back from being their most authentic self.

May you all come to understand and truly believe that you, too, can lift the sky.

Peace.
xo

Her gentle vice soothed and enveloped me, providing the comfort of a warm blanket.

She said softly: “Feeling your feet planted firmly on the ground, remembering that every challenge in your life is there to serve you, and knowing you are bigger than any obstacle.”

Then in a moment so inexplicably strange and beautiful, she uttered five simple words that would change me forever.

You.
Can.
Lift.
The.
Sky.

What once would have seemed entirely impractical, and even unfathomable, became a metaphor for my altered consciousness—a bridge transcending the worlds between fantasy and reality.

The moment the words slipped across her lips, I realized I actually could do just that, or anything else for that matter, as long as I had the desire and the belief it was possible.

Suddenly and effortlessly, I just let go. I let go of the pain I was carrying in my heart. I let go of the heaviness of the expectations that I’ve placed on myself for so long. I let go of the desperate need to know what’s next and to have the right answers to all of life’s questions.

I let go of the weight of the world, and a single tear rolled down my cheek.

I finally understood what it has always been my destiny to know.

With my arms extended to the heavens, I can feel the heat of the sun blaze against my fingertips, the stars are mine to touch, and the moon is in within my grasp.

I can lift the sky.