Rumination, no. 8 | Good Omens

You get what you give, right.  Karma and all that.  But, also, I've said this before, and as time passes, I believe it more and more, we are our religions.  We are our spirituality.  If there are creatures in the air and sky, spirits and gods, it's because we put them there.  Tinkerbell's existence depended on the children of the world believing in her, yes?  The same goes for Allah, for the Marrigan, for Ganesh, whichever entity appeals to you, personally.  We have to be the answers to our own prayers. 

So, one afternoon, I am taking a walk and thinking about omens.  I'm trying to make a list of all the bad omens I taught myself, things I trained myself as a child to recognize as signs of some things wicked or sad on the horizon.  And I thought of poor child me as if she were a different person, and wondered, why didn't she have any good omens?  While I respect that without dark there can be no light, as a person who has suffered from bouts of depression in the past, I'm less interested these days in "embracing the dark."  The left-hand path holds no interest for me.  One day, I'll balance out.  But for the time being, manifesting positivity is my goal in meditation, prayer, magicks, whatever you want to call it (whatever I want to call it).  As I walked through the historic neighborhood behind my office building and considered good omens and contemplated our tight wallets this year and various concerns, there on the ground before me rested two crumpled up bills.  Aha!  Good Omen!  I'll take it! 

I wanted to put the bills in a jar along with my found pennies and nickels and save them, but alas, I am nothing if not practical.  They became the next morning's bus fare.  But, because I wanted them to be a good omen, they were.  And now, truly, things are looking up--in so many ways--in part because I made it so.