My mother is that person in our family. Her happiness is like Schrodinger's cat. She is happy and not happy at the same time. Every time we reach a milestone, she has a new milestone at which she will be happier. Got a good job? Get a house. Got a house? Get married. Got married? Have a kid. The other way she convinces us is by showing us signs. If a flower falls when she is praying, she is convinced her prayers are going to be answered. When Ollie (my dog) stole a modak from the mandir in our house on Ganesh Chaturthi, I assumed she would be pissed. Instead, she was beaming. “God took the offering. Don’t you know? A black dog followed Yudhisthir to heaven.”

Growing up, my mother would tell me stories of all the times she had almost died. Once she fell into a well, once down a long flight of stairs. But the scariest was when she fell on a fallen tree’s pointy bark. It went right through her and spilled her uterus out. A doctor from the village drove her to the nearest town. She survived and went on to have three healthy children. My mom insisted that this was a sign too. That her children were going to do amazing things. When I was younger, this story helped me believe only the best things would happen to me.

For the last few months, I have been working on an idea with a friend. Every day, I wonder if I am doing the right thing, if I should stop, am I on the right path. When we first started discussing the idea, I found a book on the subject in my bookshelf. I had no memory of buying it. This morning, two writers I respect published personal essays related to our idea. It is a sign, I said to my friend. In every conversation, in every email, in every coincidence, I see signs. Because in the beginning, you need belief in something more than yourself. 

Creative acts require courage. To commit without knowing. To be open to whatever is in store. Deadlines help you get your act in order, signs help you keep going.