This is a post for the soul.
Some things do not come in threes.
Some come in other numbers; fours, perhaps, or sevens. Some come in square roots, magical primes. Some come in multiples, divisibles, or exponentials.
And some just never stop.
Recent days have contained multiple minorly miraculous moments slightly stunning for their oddity... and maybe, had they happened to someone else, they would not be miraculous.
But I think they are.
^^^^^
Saturday. Portland. 10 pm.
Abby, Llama, and I are walking home through wet streets. We are stuffed full of flatbread and brownie sundaes.
We are talking about important things. We are talking about Love.
One of us, I will not say who, though it is not me, is talking out a love dilemma... one without easy answers. You know this kind. Laughing and sighing at the same time, I walk up to a folded piece of notebook paper, soggy, lying in the middle of the road. "Maybe we should ask the notebook paper!" I shriek, in full bravado, "Surely it will have the answer!" I unfold the paper, glancing at my friend whose future we are divining. Scrawled in the center of the page are two words, and two words only:
It's over.
^^^^^
Today. Franconia. 5:10 pm.
I ask for guidance a lot. Mostly from "The Universe." I usually prefer that title to any other word. However, when I'm outside, sometimes I ask a Mother Energy. I call her "Goddess," though certainly "she" has many names. I ask her to guide me, I offer her something, and at the end, I ask for a sign. Perhaps it's greedy, but I like to know she hears me. More than once, this sign has come in the form of a deer. The first time it was a young stag; a rare thing to see in broad daylight.
I didn't ask today. I didn't ask for anything today at all. But I've been meaning to, you know. And yet, tonight, as I step out of my car after work, they are here. A doe, a stag, and two fawns, standing in the porch light, dining on my front lawn.
They look at me, and not a single one freezes. Nor do they bolt. They just keep on chewing, dipping their heads down again and again. I walk hesitantly toward the door and they keep their eyes on me, finally loping off, unhurriedly though, to the backyard. Silent shadows.
I don't even know what it means. I don't know the symbolism of the deer in any religions, don't know what it means if you dream about one, don't know what it means to have a deer as your power animal in the shamanic tradition. But it must be good.
There must still be grace here somewhere.
^^^^^
Today. Franconia. 5:50 pm.
I narrowly miss hitting a young moose.
I can't tell you how many times this has happened in my life. I've been driving since 16, they're everywhere up here. But today, the adrenaline pumps harder than usual, and it isn't even the closest call ever. I can feel my capillaries surging through once-calm arteries.
I shake for a full thirty minutes afterwards.
^^^^^
Today. Franconia. 8:30 pm.
I speak to a woman on the phone while answering calls at Garnet Hill. We start the conversation already laughing. She is from New York. I enter her customer number and her information pops up. Her name is Milagros.
It means Miracles.
an entry after Laura's style
Some come in other numbers; fours, perhaps, or sevens. Some come in square roots, magical primes. Some come in multiples, divisibles, or exponentials.
And some just never stop.
Recent days have contained multiple minorly miraculous moments slightly stunning for their oddity... and maybe, had they happened to someone else, they would not be miraculous.
But I think they are.
^^^^^
Saturday. Portland. 10 pm.
Abby, Llama, and I are walking home through wet streets. We are stuffed full of flatbread and brownie sundaes.
We are talking about important things. We are talking about Love.
One of us, I will not say who, though it is not me, is talking out a love dilemma... one without easy answers. You know this kind. Laughing and sighing at the same time, I walk up to a folded piece of notebook paper, soggy, lying in the middle of the road. "Maybe we should ask the notebook paper!" I shriek, in full bravado, "Surely it will have the answer!" I unfold the paper, glancing at my friend whose future we are divining. Scrawled in the center of the page are two words, and two words only:
It's over.
^^^^^
Today. Franconia. 5:10 pm.
I ask for guidance a lot. Mostly from "The Universe." I usually prefer that title to any other word. However, when I'm outside, sometimes I ask a Mother Energy. I call her "Goddess," though certainly "she" has many names. I ask her to guide me, I offer her something, and at the end, I ask for a sign. Perhaps it's greedy, but I like to know she hears me. More than once, this sign has come in the form of a deer. The first time it was a young stag; a rare thing to see in broad daylight.
I didn't ask today. I didn't ask for anything today at all. But I've been meaning to, you know. And yet, tonight, as I step out of my car after work, they are here. A doe, a stag, and two fawns, standing in the porch light, dining on my front lawn.
They look at me, and not a single one freezes. Nor do they bolt. They just keep on chewing, dipping their heads down again and again. I walk hesitantly toward the door and they keep their eyes on me, finally loping off, unhurriedly though, to the backyard. Silent shadows.
I don't even know what it means. I don't know the symbolism of the deer in any religions, don't know what it means if you dream about one, don't know what it means to have a deer as your power animal in the shamanic tradition. But it must be good.
There must still be grace here somewhere.
^^^^^
Today. Franconia. 5:50 pm.
I narrowly miss hitting a young moose.
I can't tell you how many times this has happened in my life. I've been driving since 16, they're everywhere up here. But today, the adrenaline pumps harder than usual, and it isn't even the closest call ever. I can feel my capillaries surging through once-calm arteries.
I shake for a full thirty minutes afterwards.
^^^^^
Today. Franconia. 8:30 pm.
I speak to a woman on the phone while answering calls at Garnet Hill. We start the conversation already laughing. She is from New York. I enter her customer number and her information pops up. Her name is Milagros.
It means Miracles.
an entry after Laura's style