From the Sky

As I dusted my tiny loft yesterday, I came to my poetry board and thought about the word “want” falling to the floor and getting my attention last week. In an attempt to replicate the experience, I closed my eyes and lightly scratched at the board, wondering what tiny rectangle of language I would knock off. I was surprised at how tight the magnetized words clung to the metal backing they were all on, but eventually the word “with” gave it up and flicked off, landing face down. Hmmm…

I had a sweet oracle a few days earlier on Friday as I was walking to my car. It was a remarkable morning because it was finally not raining after two weeks of dreary, wet and soupy weather. The welcome contrast made me appreciate the beauty of a clear and dry day. I was approaching my car from behind and I saw a reflection from the sky of an “X,” framed like a picture by the back seat window. I immediately thought of how “XO” is the symbol for a kiss and a hug as I turned to look up to see the origin of the image. Two jets, at this point long gone, had left the crossed contrails of their exhaust suspended in the atmosphere above me. Adding to the experience, my mind inserted a quick soundbite from Jimi Hendrix:  “‘scuse me while I kiss the sky” (from his song Purple Haze, only in my case, it was the other way around). It was like being given a big, puffy kiss, and I felt a bubble of joy rise out of me as I laughed out loud. 

I spent the rest of the weekend looking at the sky when outside, scanning for the “O” to complete the set. After the third day, it gently occurred to me that I was trying to force something. And I had done the same when wanting to repeat an oracle with my poetry board (which is just a vehicle for poetry after all, not an Ouija). I was reminded that part of the wonder of oracles, in my experience, is the quirky synchronicity and surprise of a message. It wasn’t “wrong” to be curious about what word would turn up in my experiment or to look for an “O”, just not effective.

May I be aware of how I create disappointment through control and getting too attached to a particular outcome, and instead, be open to the fresh and unfolding present moment.