I saw a man in the foam of my cappuccino this morning. It was a perfect line drawing like a New Yorker cartoon, just staring up at me. Do you think this is a sign?
I’m always looking for signs, secrets hidden in the details, in the ordinary-ness, that will show me the way, point me in the right direction.
Sometimes they are obvious. You might wonder if your idea for a book is good, if it is worthy of being published, and then an agent calls and asks to represent you. Clear sign the book should be made.
But most of the time, the signs are more subtle. Tiny, serendipitous events that could be chalked up to chance, but maybe, you think, just maybe, could it be… magic? It’s just too weird, right? This thing happening, then that, and it HAS to mean something. Or does it?
Several years ago, I was telling a friend at work that I wanted to meet my favorite singer/songwriter Ben Harper. I gushed at his brilliance, his sensitive lyrics, his gorgeousness. (Okay, I also had a teeny weeny little crush on him.) Anyway, two hours later, I left work, decided to take an alternate bus route home, and hopped on the 22 Fillmore. Guess who was sitting next to me? You guessed it. Ben freaking Harper.
I thrive on these things happening to me. They are like signs of a rightness about the universe, like somehow everything is going to be okay, because I am on my path, in the groove, flowing… It’s like a huge thumb rising up out of the clouds and shouting, “Right on!”
I get so deliriously happy when this happens. Now what do you think the little cappuccino man could mean?