Welcome to The Mystical Underground

In 1984, Chris Cox, an editor at Ballantine Books, bought my first novel, In Shadow. He was the editor for my next ten books, was also a writer, and went to the Amazon and to Colombia with us when Rob and I led travel tours for writers through Avianca Airlines. He’s in that tiny picture at the top of the post, the guy at the far right. He was a complete original, funny and smart, adventurous and compassionate, and had a Virgo eye for detail, a valuable asset for an editor. I have always felt enormous gratitude to him for launching my career as a writer.

He died in 1990, one of the many young men of that time killed by AIDS. At his memorial service in New York, Susan Sarandon spoke movingly of her long-time friendship with Chris, which dated back before her first movie. I later was told by Chris’s friend and fellow editor, Cheryl, that Sarandon had paid for a private nurse for Chris during the final months of his illness.

I also spoke at that memorial service, remembering Chris’s sense of adventure on the trips he took with us. He was the first to suggest we get off the boat and traipse through the jungle, the first to board an inflatable raft at night that took us through a tributary, surrounded by a cacophony of jungle sounds. He was the first to eat the piranha we caught, the first to trade trinkets with the locals for a beautiful owl that we brought onto the boat and set free at the jungle camp where we stayed a couple of nights.

I had bought this wooden sculpture, the traveling man, on one of those trips and talked about how it exemplified Chris’s intrepid spirit.

After he died, I eventually lost touch with the people in his circle – Bob Wyatt, who was then editor –in-chief at Ballantine, and Iris Bass, who had been Chris’s wonderful assistant.

Periodically over the years, I “call” on Chris to get the publishing ball rolling. It goes something like this: Hey, you guys on the other side, can you help get stuff moving here? This group of publishing folks consists of Chris, our first agent Diane Cleaver, Kate Duffy, who was my editor at Kensington, and several writers. So, several days ago, en route to Orlando to celebrate Rob’s birthday, I called specifically on Chris and this time I added, Give me a sign that you received the message, ok?

Two days later, I received an email from the editor at Page Street who bought our book on precognition, Sensing the Future, which comes out in January 2017. Marissa said she loved the book and was sending it on to the copy editor. She then sent an introductory email to me and the copy editor. When I saw the copy editor’s name, Iris Bass, I thought no way it can be the same Iris. Then she emailed:

Thanks Marissa and hello Trish –

Not meaning to “weird you out,” Trish—esp. given the genre of this book—but we already know each other, sort of. I am the Iris Bass who was Chris Cox’s assistant 25+ years ago when you were writing mysteries for Ballantine. Not all that weird, actually; publishing is a surprisingly small world.

Publishing may be a small world, but it’s not that small and the odds impressed me. And I knew that Iris was the sign that Chris had received the message.Save

I found this on Whitley Strieber’s site. He believes it’s “interesting enough to post.”  It’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0YTrd4v0Mc#t=28

Adele Aldridge just emailed us with a synchro related to this object. She is creating origami peace cranes for a coloring book she is creating. Here’s her current diagram for one of them:

Today’s Summer Solstice also features a full moon, known as the Honey Moon, which according to the Farmer’s Almanac hasn’t happened since 1948.

Make your wish list, folks, and when the solstice begins at 6:34 PM EDT, create a ritual of some sort with your wish list and release it to the universe.

Enjoy!

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You have to hand it to the ancient Greeks and their mythology. They knew their stuff. For every human flaw, for every psychological syndrome, they had a story.

Take Narcissus. This guy, the son of a river god and a nymph, was a hunter known for his physical beauty and for spurning those who loved him. His behavior attracted the attention of nemesis, who was supposedly the spirit of retribution for arrogance. She attracted Narcissus to a pool where he saw his own reflection and fell in love with it so completely that he stared at his reflection until he died.

Interestingly, since Donald Trump became the Republican nominee, psychologists have been diagnosing this dude as a narcissist. Well, yes. That’s been obvious for years and ever since the Repubs  elevated him to the status of nominee, it’s gotten worse. Now he speaks endlessly about how the party should all shut up and just let him do his thing – i.,e, alienate everyone.

Personally, I’m fascinated with  Trump’s love affair with himself. It’s gross and twisted and endlessly entertaining. I imagine that nemesis is somewhere in the shadows, laughing her ass off. Keep it up, Trump, and we’ll be witnessing the demise of the party that thrust you onto center stage. I would like to be glib  here and make some snotty remark about how Trump doesn’t have a chance at becoming prez. But there may be just enough hate in this country – and Clinton may have so much political baggage – that psycho Trump is propelled into the White House.

Eight years of W Bush was BAD. Four years of Trump would be far worse. I hear  a province in Nova Scotia is inviting Americans to move there if our nightmare comes to pass. Yeah, it’s colder there than it is in South Florida, but a Trump presidency would be like living in the Arctic, isolated, scared, and alone. And belligerent, of course.

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On Friday, June 10, American singer and songwriter Christine Grimmie, 22, was shot and killed while signing autographs for fans after a concert in Orlando at The Plaza Live.

Early on the morning of Sunday, June 12, a gunman entered The Pulse, a gay night club in Orlando, mowed down 49 people and injured more than 50 others before he was shot and killed by police. It’s the worst mass killing in American history.

On Tuesday, June 14, a two-year-old boy, Lane, was visiting a resort at Disney with his parents, when he was snatched by an alligator and dragged into the water. His father wrestled with the gator in an attempt to save his son, but to no avail. The boy’s body was found yesterday, Wednesday, June 15.

In just five days, Orlando, which calls itself City Beautiful,  has been the site of three tragedies and all of them have made global news. So what is going on?

Cities, like families and communities, have a collective energy that is tested with tragedies like these. By all reports, Orlando’s residents are drawing together in powerful ways – through vigils, blood donations for the victims, prayer. Today, President Obama and VP Biden will meet with families of the victims, the first responders, the physicians and nurses who helped to save lives.

I think this piece  by an Orlando resident describes what we all hope will emerge from this mass killing – and from Obama’s visit.

Now take a look at the rainbow that appeared over the nightclub. The rainbow has been a symbol of gay pride since Harvey Milk. How’s that for a synchro?

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Jane Clifford’s son, Harry Keyworth, is an amazing musician with an original approach. So recently he told Jane that in his  teens that all record hits were written in the same 4 chords and that he would never use them and he hasn’t.

Jane replied that maybe he should reconsider write a hit song, and then write what you want afterwards. Then the next day she came across a You Tube video on Facebook in which the Australian comedy band, Axis of Awesome,  said the very same thing about the  4 chords, then went on to prove it as the video here shows.

And here’s a song by Harry with different chords and a different beat.

Pulse Nightclub

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At 2:00 AM on June 12, a 29-year-old man walked into gay nightclub, Pulse, in Orlando, Florida, and opened fire on the 350 people inside. He was armed with an assault rifle and a Glock, took hostages, and by 5:00 AM, 50 people were dead and 53 were injured. The shooter, Omar Marteen, was killed in a shootout with police. This mass shooting is the worst in U.S. history.

Twenty minutes into the shooting, Marteen called 911 and and claimed an allegiance to ISIS. It is now known that Marteen worked with a security company that has contracts with the federal government and has been  there since 2007.

Our daughter lives in Orlando, not far from Pulse.

So my Sunday morning began with text messages from our friend Melissa, who used to live next door to us in Boynton, saying there had been a mass shooting in Orlando and was Megan okay? I immediately texted Megan, who said she was fine and that all of her friends were too. But one of her friends, Jon, had been working at Pulse last night as a valet. Parking isn’t free and when drivers pull in without paying, Jon always approaches them and tells them it’s five bucks to park. But at 1:30 AM on the morning of June 12, a car pulled into the lot without paying and Jon didn’t approach the driver. That decision may well have saved his life. The driver was Omar Marteen.

A while later, Jon was talking to the security guard outside the club and an alert came over the guard’s radio that there was shooting inside the club. The guard told Jon to run and he raced across the street to Dunkin’ Donuts. The scene was total chaos, with other people fleeing the club and running toward Dunkin’ Donuts, some of them bleeding, all of them terrified. Marteen shot one of those fleeing people in the back and the man fell at Jon’s feet. Jon saw two other people shot as they fled toward Dunkin Donuts.

Megan was with Jon this morning and he broke down, sobbing.

With any mass event, particular an act of such hatred and terror like this one, the aftermath usually reveals stories like Jon’s, synchronicities that saved lives.

Connecting with Coincidence is a book to savor. The author, Bernard Beitman, is a psychiatrist and visiting professor at the University of Virginia in Charlotte, and is the first psychiatrist since Carl Jung to systemize the study of coincidences. The book is filled with stories about synchronicities that people have experienced in a variety of circumstances and under a broad spectrum of conditions.

Beitman talks about synchronicities that occur within families, among friends, with finances, in romance and love, between therapists/counselors and patients. He discusses synchronicities involving our work, spiritual pursuits, when we are grieving, and during periods when our lives are in crisis and transition, when our emotions are intense and our needs are great. Sometimes, the synchronicities are complex, other times they are simple, like the next story.

A sales rep for a drug company and her husband were looking for a home. They had decided to buy and fix up the house they were currently renting, because it seemed to be the easiest thing to do. They drove to the bank and started the process for taking out a loan. On their back home, her husband decided to take a longer route home. Just as he turned down a street, they spotted a woman putting up a For Sale sign in her yard. They stopped and immediately knew the house was just what they wanted, perfect for their family. So they bought it.

“It seems as if the two beams of need connected and drew the buyer and seller together; they picked up information for each other and from each other,” Beitman writes. “We all have this capability, which is increased during high emotion…Getting lost may help you find what you are seeking.”

Some of the stories in the book involve spirit communication, which Beitman refers to as “connections to departed loved ones.” In his introduction, he tells the story about a woman named Saundra who was eating Chinese food at her dad’s place and texted her sister that one of their favorite movies, The Wizard of Oz, was on TV. Her sister replied that she recalled watching that movie with their mom, who was deceased, and that their mother would always fix popcorn. While Saundra was reading her sister’s text message, she popped open a fortune cookie. What did the fortune say? Popcorn.

Saundra, surprised, stunned, texted this development to her sister. “They both felt the presence and comfort of their mother,” Beitman writes.

One of my favorite stories in Beitman’s book is in a chapter entitled, Spirituality and the Full-Circle Experience. A woman finishing the night shift in a factory steps outside with her cup of coffee to greet the rising sun. “The sky is filled with gorgeous hues. She sighs with heartfelt gratitude, breathing in its vibrant beauty.” As she walks back inside the building, she trips on a rock, and her coffee spills over her gray work shirt. “The hot liquid forms the shape of a heart, right over her heart. She laughs and enters more deeply into the magical moment.”

The book also includes advice and tips about how to create emotional climates that are conducive to synchronicity, that encourage them to occur:

“Remember to ask silently or out loud, alone in the woods, or in a field, or by water, to the Something Greater surrounding us. Or that “just right someone” sitting next to you.”

“Hone your intuition by following some of your inner urgings to see what happens. Learn the texture and impression of those urgings that provide better outcomes.”

What I find so extraordinary in Connecting with Coincidence is the genuine beauty of Beitman’s voice. He balances everything – the stories, the tips, the research, his professional and personal observations – with a piercing curiosity about synchronicity. What is it, what causes it, and how can we use it to improve our lives? How can we use it for guidance and confirmation? How can it help us to live more fully?

Not surprisingly, his quest to understand the phenomenon began because of a dramatic experience of his own. At 11 PM on February 26, 1973, when he was 31 years old and living in the Fillmore District of San Francisco, he suddenly found himself bent over the kitchen sink, choking on something. He hadn’t eaten anything. He didn’t have any idea what was in his throat. Finally, after fifteen minutes or so, he could swallow and breathe normally.

“The next day, my birthday, my brother called to tell me our father had died in Wilmington, Delaware, at 2:00 AM Eastern Standard Time. He was three thousand miles and three time zones away; 2:00 AM in Wilmington was 11 PM in California. My father had bled into his throat and choked on his own blood at about the same time I was uncontrollably choking. He died on February 27, my birthday.”

Connecting with Coincidence is, quite simply, a beautiful book.

People who hire ghost writers usually have a story to tell, but don’t have the skills to write it. They usually have abundant financial assets, since ghost-writing isn’t cheap, and only beginners would accept a project on spec.

Trish and I have both worked as ghostwriters from time to time and also have watched in fascination as the ‘authors’ have appeared on television talking about their writing careers. The reason they appear on TV is that they are already well known, if not famous, before ‘writing’ their books.

However, in rare cases the ghostwriter is more well known than the supposed author. That was the case with Evangeline Smith Adams, an astrologer from the early twentieth century. In her later years, she began writing books such as Astrology: Your Place in the Sun (1927), Astrology: Your Place Among the Stars (1930), and her autobiography, The Bowl of Heaven (1926). Interestingly, her ghost writer was not only well known, but infamous. He was Aleister Crowley, renowned member of the Golden Dawn, and an explorer of the dark side.

Thanks to Crowley, Adams became famous in her own right and has been called “America’s first astrological superstar.” A resident of New York, she ran a thriving astrological consulting business and hired a team of assistants and stenographers to prepare material for her clients. However, it wasn’t only her books and skills as an astrologer that vaulted Adams to notoriety.

Astrology was illegal in New York and she was arrested three times, in 1911, 1914 and 1923, for fortunetelling. All the cases brought against her were unsuccessful, and the May 1914 trial brought particular notability.

In that instance, Adams went to court to prove that astrology was a science. She asked to be allowed to cast a horoscope for someone chosen at random, working only with the person’s date, time, and place of birth. The judge rose to the challenge and gave her the birth data of an unnamed individual. Adams cast the horoscope and began to talk about the person’s life.

The judge was astounded. “What you say about this person is exactly right,” he told her. “I know because he is my son.” The judge then went on to make the practice of astrology legal in the state of New York.

The story of Evangeline Smith Adams appears briefly in Star Power for Teens, a book co-authored by Rob MacGregor and daughter Megan MacGregor. It’s a story that teens no doubt will not hear in their science classes.

Dear Bernie,

You fought the good fight. You moved Hillary Clinton’s discourse farther to the left – even though we have no guarantee that she will abide by any of it – and fueled incredible enthusiasm in millions of young people. Throughout your campaign, you have been true to the principles that have guided you throughout your decades in politics. You have never been in bed with Wall Street, never voted for war, never said something you didn’t believe just to secure votes. It’s why so many of us felt the bern and still feel it.

In the last few months, the one supposedly progressive TV cable news Rob and I watch, MSNBC, turned decidedly toward Clinton and basically ignored you and your campaign. This turn became so obvious and sometimes painful to watch that I doubt if I’ll bother watching Rachel Maddow again. It was as if all the commentators on MSNBC got the word from the higher ups that Clinton was to be touted.

At one town hall, I think it was, Maddow gave Clinton an hour; you got 30 minutes. I think that’s when I realized the tide really had turned in the election, that the candidate would be determined by the media. I often felt and still feel that Maddow hopes to become the press secretary in the Clinton administration.

I doubt if there is a genuine bone in Clinton’s body. She is the establishment, through and through. Expedient. She has considerable baggage. She is the one who will say anything to get elected. I never feel that about you. You fight for what you believe and you haven’t changed your tune on the basics of progressive politics in all your years in politics.

Even when the AP called Clinton the presumptive nominee on June 6, the day before California and five states were left to vote in their primaries, it felt like a ploy. It felt as if the call was intended to give Clinton a chance to do her victory speech this evening. I’m it, folks. The first female nominee of a major party.

Now Clinton is going for your supporters. I wish her luck. The pundits have said that it’s up to you, Bernie, to sway them. I disagree. It‘s her task to woo us. It’s her task to prove that she’s worthy of our support. And, I’m sorry, but falling back on the card called, We must defeat Trump isn’t enough. I would love to see a woman as president. But not Clinton.

Your platform represents the future. Clinton’s campaign represents business and politics as usual. Trump represents Fascism. If she wins, Bernie, I don’t think her moment in the sun will last longer than four years. But in the larger scheme of things, however this election shakes out, you have made a vital difference in how the Democratic party moves forward.

Will they become truly progressive? Or will the Democratic party still be one that’s rigged with super delegates, in bed with Wall Street, and won’t allow independents, who represent 40 percent of the electorate, to vote in primaries? Will the Democrats, who supposedly represent the people, still be a party that favors the one percent? Who aren’t that different from the Republicans?

In 2008, I changed my party affiliation from independent to Democrat so that I could vote in the primary for Obama. He moved me. Unfortunately, he was up against an intractable congress, did what he could, but didn’t quite make it on many fronts. Before this election, I plan to become an independent again. If, in 2020, Elizabeth Warren or some true other true progressive runs on the Democratic ticket, then I’ll switch again. But for now… back to the independent status.

Onward, Bernie! When you return to the Senate, it will be with greater power, a greater voice, and greater clout for pushing forth a truly progressive agenda. We who feel the bern have your back.