Omens?

Someone stole my copy of Hermann Hesse’s book, “Steppenwolf” last night. I know I had it with me, I was at a reading in the Barnes & Noble bookstore at 66th and Broadway and it fell out of my coat there. My friend Mike pointed it out and picked it up for me. I put it on my chair, and when I went to leave, it was gone.

Funny place to have a book stolen, a bookstore. I like to picture the culprit lying to the cashier on his or her way out, “No, this is my book, I brought it in.”

Now, what do I do? The book wasn’t mine in the first place, so I have to replace it in my friend Brian’s library, but I could just give him the money to buy it or a different book. Is this a sign? Does the universe want me not to read “Steppenwolf”?

I’m embarrassed to admit that the idea did occur to me. “Steppenwolf” is an important spiritual work. I’m not sure it’s the right book for me right now. The universe might care. Such an event might be a sign that I should reconsider.

I dismissed that idea, but not entirely. I believe in going with the flow of the cosmos, when you’re lucky enough to perceive it. But how do we know when any particular event is a sign to be followed, a challenge to our too-easy path, or just a random event with no “meaning” whatsoever?

Logic would seem to argue in favor of not interpreting events of the world as special messages. But logic also points to the idea that there are valuable sources of information beyond the orthodox channels.

I’m inclined to refuse to be directed by the events of the universe. I really like having a free will. But I’m willing to stop and reconsider my actions when something seems to be snapping a finger at me.

There are millions of events in one’s average day, from dropping an egg, to missing a flight. When one of them stands out from the background and lights up for us, it seems reasonable to take notice. It’s probably just our own mind that’s snapping that finger. A little reassessment can’t hurt, whether it’s about what to have for breakfast, or which plane to take, or which work of literature to digest.

After the reading, I went to the Alabaster bookstore on Fourth Avenue to replace Steppenwolf. They didn’t have Steppenwolf, so I bought Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund, (which Sam the agent said I should read), and Robert Bly’s Iron John, which I’m reading now instead. (I’m looking for the appropriate men’s group to join right now.)

(It's Friday evening, and my mind is a bit fuzzy. This post took me more than 15 minutes. From now on, I intend to do this in the morning whenever possbile.)