In Western society, we tend to believe that creativity is the exclusive domain of the Lennons, Spielbergs, Rowlings, Kings, Picassos, Streeps, Ophrahs, Harrison Fords. We forget that we are all born creative, that if it weren’t for creativity, we probably would still be living in caves. And at every step in our creative expression, synchronicity is there to guide us, inform us, and remind us that we are here to create and to do so joyfully.
Sure, there have been plenty of dysfunctional creative people – Nicola Tesla, despite his brilliance and creativity, battled constantly against poverty and emotional pain. Van Gogh chopped off his own ear and never made a penny from his art. F Scott Fitzgerald drank himself into an early grave and Hemingway put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
But for every creative misfit, there are many more individuals who have the creative equivalent of the Midas touch, a magical something that transforms the mundane, the utterly ordinary, into something unique. When we enter their homes or workplaces, that magic is evident everywhere, an ineffable quality that’s hard to pin down. We immediately sense they are connected to something larger than themselves, that that have tapped into a creative flow that spills over into every area of their lives.
So here is a stunning story:
Suzanne Cunningham, a Reiki healer and medium in North Carolina whom we had on our podcast, shared a mind-blowing story about how creativity and synchronicity occurred at a critical juncture in her life.
She was leaving a marriage of 25 years and trying to decide where to live. At the time, her son was living and going to school in Charlotte, North Carolina and she was living and working in Syracuse, New York. She worked for a woman that owned a couple of bridal salons, one in Syracuse, the other in Charlotte (part of the reason my son was there, as she visited often). “I was trying to decide the direction and location my life needed to move in. As my personal life was deteriorating I asked my boss if I could work in her Charlotte location as well as NY while I decided what I needed to do and where I needed to live.”
At the same time Suzanne was also working on developing her intuition with a teacher in Central NY. She was a powerful intuitive with a group of wonderful, equally powerful friends. “Our group included a former local mayor, a graphic artist, a corporate trainer, my teacher and I. We decided to create a festival/retreat weekend to celebrate women. We lived in the land of the Haudensaunee, the Iroquois, and the Clan mothers had been so important to the tribes that called Central New York home and to us, as young women growing up there. We were feeling inspired and decided to call it The Goddess Weekend.”
Her teacher invited a young woman she’d met on a recent trip to San Diego, an author, Julie Hunt., to join their weekend in NY. They were thrilled when she said yes! Suzanne picked her up at the airport on the Friday of the retreat and they shared a room in her teacher’s house.
Julie, the author, spent the three days meeting, greeting and selling copies of her book, Shout from the Rooftops in Your Stilettos. The cover is at the top of the post. Everyone kept asking her about the identity of the beautiful young woman on the book cover who exuded such joy. But repeatedly over throughout the weekend Julie politely told each person that she didn’t know who the woman on the cover was. It was a stock photo chosen by the publisher.
“On Sunday night, she presented me with a copy, inscribed with a lovely message,” Suzanne wrote. “I left there feeling like I could manage, regardless of where I would end up. I was still afraid but the weekend had so filled me with hope. I felt surrounded and supported and most importantly loved, and so I drove to Charlotte, the Queen city!”
When Suzanne arrived at the store she brought her copy of Julie’s book to share with her boss. They chatted for a few minutes and then, as Suzanne was telling her about meeting this wonderful young woman, the author Julie Hunt, she slid the book across her desk. “She looked at the cover and turned white. I watched the color drain from her face and could only ask WHAT???”
Her boss exclaimed, “Suzanne, do you know who this girl is?”
“No,” Suzanne replied. “Lots of people asked Julie but she had no idea and would love to know but it was a stock photo.”
Now here comes the synchronicity,
“Suzanne, this girl asked me for a job a few weeks ago. When you called and said you needed to be here, I told her the job was no longer available, my friend needs the job.”
Just consider the mind-blowing odds of this kind of thing happening.
“There are no words,” Suzanne said. “We both just sat there, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. I then asked her if the young woman on the cover KNEW she was on a book cover. We called her, shared the news, and then I called Julie to tell her the mystery was solved although the mystery hung thickly in the room because HOW COULD THIS BE POSSIBLE?
“I lived in Central New York, where the Goddess Weekend was held, Julie lived in San Diego and the young woman on the cover, Vironica Schreiner Dawson, lived in Charlotte. So is this synchronicity or a miracle? I’m still not sure. This is an example with tangible evidence, something I’ve physically held during moments of doubt. I just carry the experience like a bubble of emotion and memory.”
Some years later, when Suzanne related the story to Trish, she pointed out that the only time she’d met Julie was at the gathering in New York, when she’d given Suzanne the book. Then she got to Charlotte and found out that Veronica, someone she’d never met – and someone the author had never met, either, had been let go from the part-time job so that Suzanne could have it “while I gathered my life together as my marriage ended.”
“I contacted them both and shared the information. Vironica didn’t know she was on a book cover and Julie finally had a name of the girl when asked! It was so clear to me when that happened that I was where I needed to be even if I was terrified and questioning.”
And here’s a beautiful postscript to this story: Suzanne later met her present husband in Charlotte.
 
