Sometimes I wish that the Universe would make its messages easier to decipher. I recognize that coincidences and synchronicities reveal patterns in the chaos, but the meaning of that pattern isn’t always clear. My daughters and I oftentimes kid that we wish the Big U would leave a big blue pawprint to show us, “Yes, this is definitely a clue.”
Sometimes the clues don’t make sense because they’re nothing more than seeing lots of number sequences on clocks and license plates, etc. Doreen Virtue has a list of meanings that these number sequences have, but I don’t always have that list handy, so the message isn’t concise. I may be wrong but I believe that things like this, the ones that don’t have a specific message, are simply there to show we’re on the right track. Our actions and overall vibe are in alignment with where we want to be heading. We see these things because everything is ticking along nicely, all lined up.
Sometimes it’s hearing the same song over and over, in strange places, until you finally listen to the lyrics and hear what the clue is trying to tell you. Sometimes you just happen to open a book to a page that shows you the exact information you were looking for. Sometimes the clues make perfect sense, like the ones I’ve been writing about lately, with the tea party, or the fact that Blackpool is coming up in conversation with people who have no good reason to bring it up.
I have a new one that I haven’t yet figured out, but it’s certainly got my attention. Here’s some background:
I recently started reading John Steinbeck‘s The Grapes of Wrath for the first time. I know, I know–someone my age should have read it by now. Bare minimum, how did I get through school without being forced to read it? I don’t know. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid reading what I assumed was an incredibly depressing story about dirt and poverty. In any case, I’m almost done reading (it’s brilliant–Steinbeck is dazzling–but that’s not today’s subject).
Last week I watched Louis C.K.‘s latest HBO special, and out of nowhere he started talking about The Grapes of Wrath. What are the odds of that happening? Seriously. How weird is that? What an amazing coincidence! (But then he blew the ending! He told how it ends! I even tweeted to him to let him know he ruined the book for me.)
“I don’t mean to ruin that book for you, but you should have read it by now.”
(Do not watch if you’re easily offended or haven’t read the Grapes of Wrath.)
I’m almost done reading, and I’ve learned a lot from the Joad family and their struggles. I’ve made a lot of connections between what they experienced and today’s economy. I have a new, non-sexist view of why there was such thing as “men’s work” and “women’s work.” My understanding of social structure has been vastly broadened.
Most importantly, this book has taught me that an Oklahoma accent causes a girl named Rose of Sharon to be called “Rosasharn.” That name has been stuck in my head, like an earworm, since I began reading the book.
So imagine my surprise when I went for my morning walk today and happened upon this:
Aside from this book, or out shopping for plants, I never hear of Rose of Sharon. It’s not a well-known flower. And I’ve never seen a truck with that company name before, that I can recall anyway. It’s not a local company.