reading the coffee grounds

Tonight I went out for a quick drink with Sue and some of her friends. Several of them are in a state of transition; the occasion for drinks was actually a celebration that Sue didn't get the job she interviewed for today. Maybe "celebration" isn't quite the right word, but I think Sue was mostly relieved that this opportunity is now a closed door, since it makes the options narrower. In her case, her alternatives are still pretty attractive: stay at a job she mostly loves, or begin a PhD in a good program that will open up some exciting new doors, either back in Laramie eventually or in other great places.

Anyway, the talk came around to the idea of "signs"--some type of evidence that the choice you're making is the right one. I think all five of us who were there tonight believe in signs, to some extent. But, as Sue said, "I believe in signs, except right now I'm getting about 700 of them, and they're all pointing in different directions."

I don't think that belief in signs is merely a desire to avoid responsibility for your actions; instead, I think it's more about wanting to find some confidence in the path that you eventually ends up taking. For me, that seems to be the hardest part: moving onto something new with any sense that the next piece of the journey will be a real step forward from where I am now. Despite compelling evidence, when I look back on my life, that every new step has brought me to a better place, it's still hard to look forward into the misty unformed future and not feel a sense of apprehension, of fear that somehow the next step will be a descent rather than a step up.

And the sign says, "Everybody welcome--come in, kneel down and pray."

But they passed around a plate at the end of it all an' I didn't have a penny to pay.

So I got me a pen and a paper, and I made up my own little sign,

Says, "Thank you, Lord, for thinkin' 'bout me--I'm alive and doing fine."

Oh, signs, signs, everywhere are signs.....