The active component of faith is perception, standing like a guard waiting, but devoutly attentive. Waiting, but not necessarily to be acted upon. The best signs are those that breathe initiative into us, not winning lottery announcements.
The eyes of my interpretations and understandings remain limber in faith, lightseeing before the object crystallizes. As if overly sensitive, but only in an aesthetic sense.
Living is to be thrust into a strange art gallery where what is art and what is not art is not initially clarified. To understand what has value (and what kind of value), we must depend on our reaction to the piece. What is a priceless work of genius? What is a chair still useful after long days of standing? What is nothing but distraction, or worse?
Finding what speaks to us is part of it, but faith is believing that a two-way conversation has begun, one initiated as much by the listening party as the other. We heard because we offered faith in listening, patient perceiving. Responsive to the holy.