On that crisp and drizzly fall morning I breathed in the fresh new air of the changing season, pondering poetry and reveling in the few moments of the day before the city was completely awake. Autumn is my favorite season, and the early morning is my time of day. A walk in the park is a ritual for my dog and me.

As we strolled, my mind wandered, and I came upon a group of freshly fallen leaves, matted to the ground by the cool morning moisture—into the shape of a heart. Now maybe it was just some random falling of the leaves, coupled with the wind, that caused the leaves to land in that shape. I could see piles of leaves all over the park. But this clump of leaves was in the shape of a heart. And all I could think was that my city had left me a love letter. After a difficult week at work, this reminded me that I am grateful for my life here, and this was clearly a way for the city to let me know that she loved me back. And that everything was going to be okay.

One of the most important messages in Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist is,

“Learn to recognize omens, and follow them.”

We have all heard some version of this. “It’s a sign.” Or “The universe is trying to tell me something.”

This concept often has us thinking we must actively look for signs in the world. “Show me a sign!”
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But if we read the sentence from The Alchemist more carefully, we see that that Paulo Coelho doesn’t say we should look for omens, rather we should “learn to recognize them.” This implies the omens are always there for us to learn from, but only become meaningful as omens when we recognize them as such.

What does that even mean? What if you can’t find a class anywhere in Omen Recognition 101?

I do believe that learning to acknowledge these signs from the universe is a lifelong process that can be cultivated. But it takes practice.

We must ask: What does an omen look like?

I am sure this is different for everyone. For me, omens often come with a feeling of randomness. Like that wild coincidence when you start running into various people from your past. Or when you hear about a particular book in three separate places in the same week. Or maybe an unexpected conversation with a stranger offers a new perspective.

Sometimes a sign will reveal itself in the form of an epiphany. Often not a new or original thought, an epiphany appears as an amazing realization, like the proverbial light bulb. The “AHA!” moment that can be powerful enough to change everything.

Or an omen can show itself in those instants when we are completely present—we are able to experience time as it happens, instead of in retrospect. And in those fleeting seconds we can observe the truth of the moment. During those times I am often overflowing with gratitude, and that feeling can serve as an affirmation that something is going right.

It all sounds so cosmic and lofty, but the truth is, these omens are there for us to receive all the time. We live in a world where we are often preoccupied with jobs, business, finances—everyday life. We busy ourselves every waking hour, living in that “fight or flight” mode, where it’s easy to feel that there is no time for things like omen-pondering. When we are in that mindset, there is just no more space for anything other than basic survival, as our bodies are actually chemically designed to keep us focused on survival in those situations. The adrenaline is pumping so that we may endure the chase, so it makes sense that we are unable to muster any recognition of omens left for us by the universe. Like the animal running on the treadmill, it’s often difficult to stop.

I am not suggesting that we have to give up our life and wander the globe in order to see the omens the universe has laid out for us. But I am suggesting that we take a moment each day to be still. To “reset” our minds and hearts so that the omens become available to us. Even if just for a moment, we need to find a way to remove ourselves from that adrenaline survival rush.

For me, I take my dog to that little park in the morning. I used to go there only once in awhile, but when I started to make that morning walk in the park part of my routine, something interesting happened. I started to breathe from the moment I entered the park. My typical brisk pace became a stroll, my mind let go of the workday ahead, and I automatically opened up to where I could ponder aimlessly as I walked. That’s where the practice part comes in. Finding those few moments of stillness allows you to open your heart and soul to seeing the signs as they present themselves.

And that’s when you realize that sometimes leaves just fall randomly in a pile. And sometimes they fall in the shape of a heart, and you are still enough to see that your city has sent you a love letter.