I am not a religious person, but I do consider myself to be a spiritual person.  As part of my spirituality, I’ve come to believe that occasionally, we get little “signs” from the Universe/God/whatever higher power you believe in, to sort of help us along. 

Sometimes, the signs are hit-you-over the head obvious.  Other times…not so much.

WAY back in 2009, I read a brilliant essay in Oprah magazine about a woman who got a very definitive sign, when she’d asked for one.  (I wish I could link to it for you, I really do – but I searched the archives and it didn’t turn up.  I’m sad as well!)

This inspired me to ask for my own sign.  Now, a seemingly insignificant fact that is important to the story:  I had written a piece during my writing group on a Wednesday night.  The piece itself is not important, except for the fact that in the story, the main character’s fiance wears lip gloss that I named Tangerine Dream.

The following day, Thursday, is when my Oprah magazine arrived in the mail.  I read about half of it – the half including the essay about signs from the Universe.

I requested my sign:  I wanted to know if I should continue with my writing.  At a later date, I picked up and read the rest of the magazine.  Imagine my shock when, in an article titled “What’s not to love,” there was a photo captioned “Tangerine Dream.”

I mean, hello?  It doesn’t get much clearer.  I continued happily on my writing journey.

As a human being, I am, on occasion, plagued by self-doubt.  It’s nice to know that sometimes, when I ask, I can get reassurance from…someone.  Some higher power, or my own consciousness, or whatever.  It comforts me, and that’s what’s important.

But sometimes, this feeling of guidance, as I’ve mentioned, leaves something to be desired.  You see something that may or may not be a sign, or if it is a sign, you’re not sure if it’s a positive or negative sign, and then you work yourself all into a tizzy trying to figure it out. 

Sometimes, you need something just a little bit more black and white.  Or orange, as it were.

Again, having some doubts about my writing path, I asked for a sign.  Something specific, I thought.  Something…oh, I don’t know, something Tangerine Dream.

That same morning, I was reading through the internets, and came across the blog of an author I’ve read and enjoyed.  She was talking about her car, and  how it needed a paint job, and mentioned that although the car looks red, it actually isn’t.

The actual color of the car – the AUTHOR’S CAR, mind you – is Tangerine Kandy.

Bonk.

Message received.  I no longer doubt.

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