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© 2019 by EveryDay Sacred

  • Veronica Valles

When the Universe Sends You the Same Sign... Twice

Updated: Aug 7, 2019


When you ask for a sign from the Universe, you better be ready to receive it.


Then act on it.


This has happened twice.


Obvious like a flashing, neon light high above Hollywood Boulevard as a huge billboard, the Universe has told me to WRITE.


Once, in 2005, when driving to a meeting for our children’s program at our spiritual center, I screamed to God, “What do you WANT ME TO DO?” In such frustration of uncertainty of what direction to take, I was exasperated by the not knowing.


I had spent 10 years sick with Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome. This great teacher took me on a long-term retreat. It knocked me out like a 18 wheeler running over any semblance of a normal life and kept me out of my dream of being a film director. With everything crumbling around me, I was stripped of all identities and dreams and left to wander aimlessly in the desert of confusion. Although I had gratitude for getting well, despite all pronouncements from the medical profession that denied any possibility, it was still a very challenging time and the prospects were slim to nothing.


Highly educated, two college degrees at the time (now a Masters too), I couldn’t find a job for the life of me. It was exhausting and depressing to not be able to go back to what I loved -filmmaking. It was humiliating and frightening to not have a professional salary.


In my irreverent demand to the Divine, as I slowly pulled up towards the light, an emerald green BMW exits right from an apartment parking lot and the license plate said, “WRITE.”


No joke.


WRITE.


I did write but still nothing worth publishing or pursuing, at least I didn’t think so at the time. Writers never make money off the bat and I needed to land on my feet financially or at least step up the ladder to be self-sustainable. After being on medical disability for so long, any movement up is good news. It was better than the "bottom of the barrel" view I had all of those years desperately ill.


I began doing Spoken Word pieces allowing my creativity to flow. I would write lengthy emails to friends, long before blogging or social media, to share the details of the Divine as my day. I accumulated some nice works and tucked them into a book, “Awakening Fire.” The only problem with the self-publishing agency that I used is that they wanted $300 more for changing 3-4 commas because I made the mistake of not having someone else proof it to find those mistakes (details, NOT my gift). So that book has sat in their digital library without being marketed.


WRITE.


The sirens kept calling me, luring me, seducing me…


WRITE.


Nothing more than short inspirations on social media platforms came through me. Yet, something keeps tugging at me.


Today, standing in the waiting line to pay at Marshall’s, I am watching the woman in front of me as she casually looked around. I see how the items lining both sides of the waiting aisle are like hawkers. “Look at me, shiny nail polish. What about me, nice, fake leather bag. Socks, do you need more socks? How about these plastic storage pieces with lids that include all of the colors of the rainbow – I would look good in your kitchen. Then JOE, JOE, JOE…coffee that is. A little Kona for half the price? Chips to the left – all sorts. Sweet Potato. Veggie ones. Regular potatoes. Don’t leave without your soda or water in a plastic bottle. Thank you for following your impulsiveness for unnecessary items that were no where near your list.”


Enticed she was. There went the nail polish into her hands and right into the basket. The black bag was heading towards the cart but she came to her senses and quickly returned it onto the shelf where it will wait as the next bait.


I was amused. Maybe a little self-righteous about not being so enticed.


Never believe your ego. Seriously. Little did I know what would be smiling at me in a few minutes.


Lately, I have been mulling around again on what do I need to be doing besides teaching mindfulness to children through my nonprofit. Don’t get me wrong, that has transformed my life in the most incredible way. I literally started a program from scratch and in five years have reached 1,000s of children. The statistics are in on how the children are being supported both in their learning and well-being. I won DISD's Volunteer of the Year for Classroom Support. One out of 24,000 people. Huge honor and accomplishment.


Being with the little people and offering them positive, practical life skills is a great act of service. However, I live in the land of plenty, America, and even with my “soulful simplicity” this joy of being is not going to get me into the cozy retirement that I deserve and that sweet house in Little Forest Hills with my Beloved.


If you look at the financial toll a long term illness wreaked on my life (don’t worry, I am not sliding down that slippery slope of “poor me” but am making a reasonable observation of 10 years sick, working 5 years part time to build up my strength after that, then getting into the nonprofit realm and ministry for 10 years makes up 25 years of my financial life that went MIA), I have to look beyond what I am doing now and find an additional way to align in abundance utilizing my God-Ordained Gifts.


Perplexed, I asked once again, “SPIRIT, what do I really need to be doing to make an abundant living and to have retirement. I promise to keep teaching the children. Come on, NOW.”


As I got closer to the end of the waiting aisle, with the symphony singing, ”Cashier 1 is available. Cashier 4 is available. Cashier 5 is available, ” in this monotonous drone of a computer generated voice, I saw my answer. Clearly.


Right in front of me, at the very end of that long, waiting aisle, a big white, spiral journal with a pencil drawn on it had the word……


WRITE.


Yep.


Right in front of me.


WRITE.


Of course, I laughed. Just like the woman before me, was enticed and added it with the

blouse I was buying. Yet, this had a deeper purpose. This was a tangible sign from the Divine that I could take home and utilize keeping my promise to the Universe that I will act upon whatever arrives.


I laughed at myself.


I looked around to see if anyone noticed me laughing at myself.


I don’t think my angels are laughing anymore though. They are clear.


WRITE.


Part of my dilemma, if I can be ever so dramatic, is that I don’t know what to write about. I have moved through some interesting energy these last two years and walked through a lot of disappointment and grief. It is so personal and such big energy that it has occupied too much space like a gigantic, lavender elephant sitting on a futon right beside me. It’s for me to personally process but that whirling and twirling, heartache and hurt, confusion and consciousness shifts has been a full-time job on top of a full time job as a Peace Educator-Mindfulness teacher.


What I did notice is that I have been so caught up in this love journey that I have not stopped to write about the exquisite details of how God (the big SHE) shows up and when SHE demands my attention with sensual opportunities. SHE nudges me outside onto my balcony where the tree tops and I are eye to eye paying homage to each other and an egret flies by high above winking hello at me. Tangerine morning kisses still coax me outside but I have forgotten to swoon over it all in poetry. Although my Beloved and I would drink delicious coffee and write haiku, I have ditched it for painful soliloquies in a journal instead since we have disconnected.


Writing has been and always will be my saving grace. My Morning Pages are full to the brim with the thoughts that toss around like a hurricane or swing around like the acrobats of a Cirque de Soleil show. The sweetness of the possibility of Real Love after all of these years of being single in between layers of uncertainty keeps my heart alive and attuned to the present moment. Questioning whether or not to move to Colorado, although my family and calling is here right now in Dallas, creeps into my mind. Dreams download and awareness arises.


Machinations of my subconscious and conscious mind weaving the quantum waves of being and becoming circulate throughout my days and nights. Memories of my nieces and nephews fill thousands of pages. TV shows and book ideas line up and down each 70 page, green-spiraled notebook. All of it, for me, is how it flows. But that is personal and could it really be inspirational for anyone? I don't know.

WRITE.

Postmarks on Infinity. That is what I call these moments captured right after the experience like the penetrating smell of rain after a storm.


Just remember, when you ask the Universe or makes demands on "GUS" (Great Universal Spirit) about what you need to be doing, pause to take notice of the signposts.


Don’t miss them.


Don’t just think about it either once they arrive.


Move in the direction of your sign. Immediately.


A friend of mine said that when an idea downloads, you have 30 minutes to take an action-step toward it.


"We don’t have time for you to wait," my angels scream.


I got it.


WRITE.


WRITE.


WRITE.


Right? YES.


WRITE.


I am listening.


I am writing.


I am open.


My palette is the day ready to empty itself onto my page with the details of living fully present.


May you be so inspired to follow your guides.


May my words lift you here and there or make you laugh at the absurdity of this journey that truly is a miracle and a gift all wrapped up in sometimes messy moments.


Just remember, when you ask, pay attention. You may only be given one sign. I was lucky they came back 14 years later with the same answer.

WRITE.


NOW.


August 4, 2019

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