Alright, let’s talk about those moments. We’ve all had ’em, right? Where you’re just staring at the ceiling, or the computer screen, or into your lukewarm coffee, and the thought just screams in your head: i need a message from god right now. Like, an actual, clear, no-nonsense directive because you’re fresh out of ideas and running on fumes.
So, when that feeling hits me, what’s my big spiritual practice? Did I go on a pilgrimage? Fast for 40 days? Nah. My early attempts were, let’s be honest, pretty standard. I’d try to sit real still, you know, hoping for that booming voice or some kind of divine download. Maybe I’d flip open a random book, hoping a sentence would leap out and solve all my problems. Total Hollywood stuff. And guess what? Mostly, I just got a numb butt from sitting weird or a really confusing sentence about gardening.
It reminds me of this one time, years back, when I was in a real pickle about a job offer. Should I take it? Shouldn’t I? I was desperate for a sign. So, I’m walking down the street, agonizing, and this bird, a big fat pigeon, swoops down and lands right in front of me, looks me dead in the eye, and then flies off. And I thought, “That’s it! Pigeons are resourceful! It means I should take the job and be resourceful!” I took the job. It was a disaster. Lasted six months. Turns out, sometimes a pigeon is just a pigeon, looking for a dropped french fry, not a divine messenger with career advice.
So, what changed? My “practice” got a lot less… lofty.
After a few too many pigeon-level misinterpretations, I figured maybe I was going about it all wrong. This grand expectation of a clear-cut “message” from on high? It felt like setting myself up for disappointment. So, my process now, when that “I need a message” feeling kicks in, is way more down-to-earth. First, I just acknowledge I’m freaking out. That’s step one. Big, important step.
Then, instead of looking outward for some mystical sign, I try to just… stop. Stop the frantic searching. I usually do something completely mundane. Seriously. Stuff like:
- Tackling a messy drawer. You’d be surprised how calming organizing utter chaos can be.
- Going for a walk, but without headphones. Just listen to the world. No agenda, no “looking for signs,” just walking.
- Making a really good cup of tea, and actually just sitting and drinking it. No phone, no TV, just me and the tea.
- Pulling out an old sketchbook. Doesn’t matter if I draw well, just making marks on paper.
Sounds ridiculously simple, I know. Like, how is cleaning out the junk drawer going to get me a message from God? Well, here’s the thing I stumbled upon: it’s not about getting a booming voice message. It’s about quieting my own panicked, noisy brain enough to hear myself think, or to just feel a bit more grounded. When I’m agitated and desperate, my brain is like a shaken-up snow globe. Can’t see a thing. These little, boring tasks? They let the snow settle.
And what happens then? Most of the time, there’s no flash of light. No angelic choir. But the desperation eases off. Sometimes, an idea that was buried under all the panic kinda just… bubbles up. Or I realize the “message” I needed wasn’t some cosmic secret, but something pretty practical I already knew but was too stressed to acknowledge. Or, often, I realize I don’t need a message from God as much as I need to actually talk to someone real. My wife, a good friend. Someone who can just listen, or tell me I’m being an idiot, in a loving way, of course.
So, yeah, that’s my profound method. It’s less about waiting for divine intervention and more about creating a tiny bit of peace in my own head so I can figure out the next step. Turns out, sometimes the most powerful message is the one that comes from a calmer version of yourself. Or from your spouse telling you to just take a breath. Way more reliable than pigeons, in my experience.
