Unraveling, with Brooke Baldwin

Dearest Unravelers and Unravelers-to-Be – 

Y’all know I’m a big believer in signs. My 444 tattoo. Rainbows. Pugs. Ladybugs. 11:11. I know many of you are big believers too. I refer to them as signs — or more broadly speaking, the Breadcrumb Trail. As in, spiritual breadcrumbs. These breadcrumbs continue to guide me in putting one foot in front of the other when my life hands me some real lemons. The key to noticing these breadcrumbs — not just what they are but that they exist at all — is being wide awake. Often we ignore them. We want the faster, fancier means to an end. Instead, I’m always encouraging folks to walk through the world a bit less rushed with our eyes wide open. These signs are often not there when we’re looking for them. That’s kind of the point. Don’t go looking for a rainbow and then BOOM, a rainbow will appear just when you need one.

My forever pug, Pugsley and our sign, a rainbow 🌈

If you’ve read Laura Lynne Jackson’s NYT bestselling book Signs, you know exactly what I’m talking about. People, music, books, numbers, nature, animals, words, places, even cartoons can all be breadcrumbs. These are things that appear seemingly randomly in our lives, but the more we pay attention, the more they show up, the more we realize they’re placed on our path — and the way they’re placed there, and maybe even in a certain order — for a reason. They surface from a place beyond us, or from within us (perhaps that’s the same thing) — or from another kind of place altogether. But they’re there. They’re there to send us a message or wake us up or maybe even steer us toward our bigger purpose. 

Me and my girls week before last in Panamá (not pictured: ChatGBT 😜)

I wrote last week about my special time in Panama with my four girlfriends. Surfing, feeling carried, in the ocean and beyond. The part I did not share with you is how each of us, to some degree, is Unraveling. And almost every one of us is / was scanning our surroundings for signs. We’re all wide awake to clues, hints, and guidance from the Universe or from our inner Divinity on what next steps we should take — be it in a romantic relationship or our career path, etc. (Let me state the obvious: we rely on many tangible things like our brains and actual evidence and opportunities to make major decisions — but you get what I mean.)

By the end of the week, we had racked up quite the ChatGBT searches on bullfrogs and wasps and a trapped bird and two fish dropped at our friend’s front door. Our conversations would go something like this. One girlfriend would ask: “Why is my bedroom full of wasps today?!” And someone else would shout: “ChatGBT, what is the spiritual significance of wasps?!” Y’all. I’m laughing as I’m typing this because I’m not entirely sure whether ChatGBT is full of absolute shit or spot the eff on. What I can tell you is this — it made for a very amusing week. (Wasps, by the way, supposedly mean: “Assertiveness & Action – Unlike bees, which focus on collective work, wasps embody a more direct, assertive energy. Seeing a wasp might be a reminder to take action now rather than waiting for the "perfect" moment.” YUP.)

So after coming home this week to LA, I’ve had kind of an unexpected and exciting past few days. Some phone calls about work, potential work and a friend wanting to help me with a possible book idea. It’s been overwhelming in the best possible way. And some of it is bringing up old stuff that I’ve processed and buried — but may be potentially unearthing in a whole new way. And that slightly scares the shit out of me. But also, like, bring it on. I’m — in real time — working out how I feel about all of this. If I sound vague, it’s because I am being so on purpose. But the point is, a lot is swirling for me at the moment. Beautiful, messy, Unravel-y swirls. Hallelujah.

So yesterday when Peter was closing his eyes early evening for a disco nap (we took his daughter and her friend to see Rufus du Sol the night before and stayed up way past any of our bedtimes), I was lying next to him, finishing my new favorite book, The Women by Kristin Hannah. I started to get weepy from the book (my goodness, the love, the loss in the Vietnam war, the women nurses, the themes around motherhood — not to mention just how women were written out of so much of that history). Poor Peter. He wakes to me in a flood of tears. As I’m explaining to him the section of the book that’s got me all weepy about mothers — I hear this loud THUMP!!!! I look up and see this big ball of feathers just outside our bedroom window and then, WHOOSH, drop below.

Oh my God, a bird.

CUE EVEN BIGGER TEARS.

So much more was happening than just the bird. Let me explain.