Our yellow Mesa sign
A little over a week ago, we held a Native American drumming circle in the Mesa Medicine Wheel. I relaxed and tuned in as we drummed, sensing a deep connection with the Wheel and the Earth below me. Some crazy things had been happening at The Mesa and I felt an urge to ask the Spirits of the Wheel for a signal from the Universe that we were on the right track and doing what was in accordance with Divine Plan. Now this was something I wouldn’t normally do, in that I have come to have great trust and faith that we are watched over, guided, and diligently following our spiritual path. After reminding myself of all that, I silently asked that I receive some kind of sign in the next day or so, something so distinct and unmistakable that I could not rationalize it away. I thought for a moment about how the sign might arrive and then released the outcome into the sound of my drum.
The very next day, we received a letter in the mail from a woman with chronic problems we had not seen in several years. We had given her many healings and counseled her without charge, but she stopped coming to see us, saying that we were “trying to teach (her) things (she) didn’t want to learn”. She wrote that she had been in New Cumberland WV to try to collect a debt from an acquaintance. She had mustered the courage to knock on his door, but he wasn’t home. As she turned to leave, she was astonished to see a Mesa Creative Arts Center sign (just like the one at the end of our driveway) laying there in the grass. She remembered that one had been stolen from where it sat on Rt 18. five or six years ago and informed us of its new location. I was flabbergasted as I read the letter. I hadn’t simply received a sign. It was– OUR SIGN!
The envelope had contained an additional note, indicating that the woman had waited a few weeks to mail the letter. We wondered if our sign was still there or if she was making the whole thing up to get our attention again. It didn’t really matter if we ever got our property back. I had gotten exactly what I had asked for. It was so literal and happened so fast I had to laugh about it. (My Guides have a real sense of humor.) I was also struck by the fact that the letter had to have been mailed before I made my request. It was already in motion.
Still, we were curious. So this week we took the back roads over to New Cumberland, following an internet map and the vague instructions we had received in the mail. At first we couldn’t find the street in question and none of the locals we asked knew where it was. We followed our intuition and finally found the street where our sign had allegedly been sighted. As we drove up the narrow hill, the steep bank on the odd-numbered side made it hard to see down into the yards from the truck. Very few of the houses were numbered and we couldn’t locate the address we had been given. I decided to park the truck at the entrance to the street and proceed on foot to take a closer look. It was pouring down rain as I walked up the hill, peering gingerly over the bank.
Suddenly, there it was, the yellow sign Kate had painted long ago. It was laying flat on the side of the bank amidst all manner of junk, still in fair shape after so many years. I leaned over and picked up what turned out to be only the front half of our hinged sign and walked it back to the truck. We had our sign and solved part of a lingering mystery. The name of the street where we found it wasn’t lost on us either: Straight St, which made a sharp ‘V’ with Commerce. The streets were very close together and nearly parallel, but Straight Street was, well… the high road, and considerably so.
“Yum Gwan Azin.” Be steadfast (straight) on your path… and be mindful what you ask for!
