Tony and the Trickster, Revisited

Posted on August 11, 2011 by Trish and Rob

 

This story was originally posted back in 2009, when our blog barely a month old. It’s a wonderful example of the trickster and involved Trish’s father. At the time it occurred, in 2002, he was living in an assisted living facility, had been widowed for two years, and was certainly not happy about the state of his life. But even  he recognized this situation as, well, unusual. We’ve added some additional material.

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The Trickster is a Jungian archetype. One of the best examples is the sneaky, lurking Gollum character in Lord of the Rings, orginally named Smeagol. He usually had an agenda of one kind or another that prompted him to mislead the hobbits on numerous occasions and to trick them into believing he could be trusted. The Joker in the Batman movies is another example. But when we encounter a trickster synchronicity, it’s as if the universe is playing a joke on us.

When my dad, Tony, a retired accountant, was in his late eighties, he moved into an assisted living facility in Georgia, where my sister   was director of nursing. A short time later, a high school classmate from Illinois – from more than seventy years earlier – moved in across the hall from him. When I marveled at the synchronicity, he remarked, “The universe has a twisted sense of humor. I don’t like her any more now than I did back then.”

But in a sense, the trickster had brought his life full circle.

It turned out that my dad outlived his classmate. He outlived most of the people he knew, clinging tenaciously to life until he could figure things out sufficiently to let go. He was never a religious man. During the three years he lived with us after my mother entered an Alzheimer’s facility, we supplied him with a steady supply of books on reincarnation.   He loved Carol Bowman’s Children’s Past Lives and was especially taken with Looking for Carroll Beckwith, about a detective’s search for a particular past life he’d had. He wanted to believe that death wasn’t the end, but wasn’t convinced. And I knew that until he was convinced, he would continue to hold onto life, even when it meant confinement to a wheelchair with Parkinson’s and a world so diminished that he slept most of the time.

In June of 2005,  during one of my frequent visits to the assisted living facility in Georgia, I brought a DVD to show him that  Carol Bowman had sent me. It was from an ABC primetime piece about James Leininger, a young boy who seemed to recall a past life as a World War II Navy fighter pilot. The boy’s mother had contacted Carol and the ABC piece started with Carol’s visit to the Leininger home. Rob and I had watched this powerful piece and I felt it might be exactly what my dad needed to see in order to believe.

He and I watched the show together and by the end of it, tears filled his pale blue eyes. “That’s the most convincing thing I’ve ever seen or read that reincarnation is valid, Trish.”

I knew then that he had his answer.

Less than four months later, in September 2005, he had a stroke and died just three weeks shy of his 92nd birthday.

 

Posted in reincarnation, synchronicity, trickster | 37 Comments

Synchros That Come in Threes

Posted on August 10, 2011 by Trish and Rob

We ran a Golden Scarab contest for the best five synchros and Andrew Hicks was one of the winners. He recently sent us another synchro about clusters – specifically, about how a certain sent of clusters came in threes for him.

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Synchronicity first wholly grabbed my attention in a rather subtle way, back around 2003. I was employed by Subway sandwich shop…
I would go all day without any customers ordering salads. Then, someone would come in and order one. They’d leave, and someone else would enter and order the same thing. It often happened in threes. By the third time, I’d really be paying attention, and it wouldn’t happen again. But then there would be another entirely different sequence of repetitive orders (in threes as well).

After being fascinated by this for a while, I’d “really be paying attention” after the second occurrence and amazingly, it usually didn’t happen a third time when that was the case. It seemed like there was this underlying pattern in reality that didn’t want to be noticed, so whenever I was “on to it”, the physical manifestation of the pattern would change to another frequency, or disguise itself a different sequence of identical events. I’m not saying I still see it as a pattern that doesn’t want to be noticed; I am merely articulating my initial thoughts on the phenomenon.

I didn’t call it synchronicity back then — I just called it “the patterns”. It became an obsessive point of interest for me over many years.

Posted in clusters, synchronicity | 34 Comments

Mush Head and the Owl

Posted on August 9, 2011 by Trish and Rob

Before Megan was born, Rob and I led tours for travel writers to the Amazon. The boat in the picture is from the movie Fitzcarraldo, and is the sister boat to the one on which we traveled from Leticia, Colombia to Iquitos, Peru.

In those days, Leticia was a border town, a John Wayne sort of place where everyone was up to no good. Iquitos was a city completely surrounded by and isolated in Amazonian jungle. The distance between these two cities was about 350 miles and believe me, in the Amazon, that’s a very long way.

The trip took about three days, if memory serves, and on one trip, we stopped at a village to trade trinkets for fruit, art, and whatever. I traded lipstick and some other items for a beautiful owl that the boat’s owner promised to set free in his animal sanctuary upriver. This owl was huge – don’t recall the particular type of owl, but he was big. He perched on a railing on the boat, his wings cut so that he couldn’t fly, and watched us, the gringo writers.

I spent a lot of time with this owl, taking to him, hoping to touch him, to engage him, trying to get him to eat stuff from my meals. But he refused because the food – cooked fish – was dead. So one of the guides told me to feed him live piranha that we caught in the river. I did and he loved it. I worried about this owl, talked about him, and finally one of the writers, this guy from NY, rolled his eyes and said, “Trish, you’re such a mush head.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I shot back.

“It’s just an owl,” he replied. “It’s not a conscious being. It doesn’t give a shit about you. You’re anthropomorphizing.”

“So a mush head is a person who anthropomorphizes?”

“Yeah. You got it. Animals don’t have feelings.”

Needless to say, this guy and I didn’t get along at all.

When we arrived at the jungle camp, the owner of the boat, Paul, an expat from LA, kept his word. He released the owl in his preserve and during our two nights in the camp, I heard the soft, haunted hoots of a happy owl.

Now and then over the years, I’ve thought about this guy from NY, about his term for me. Mush head.

When Megan and I rescued a wounded duck from the lake behind the house where we used to live, I heard him calling me a mush head. Whenever I fed a stray cat, when I got sick as Sea World during the awful whale act, when Rob stopped in the middle of the road to move a slow turtle to the curb so it wouldn’t get run over, I thought of this guy. Mush head is a term that means you are soft in the head, a bit cuckoo, whacked out, not entirely with it. And in NY guy’s universe, the term applied to individuals who believe that animals have feelings.

My memory of this guy was triggered this evening by a story I read about a lion and a lioness in Brazil. The lion, Dengo, 11, was separated  from his partner, Elza, 10, after sharing a cage for eight years. He apparently sank into a depression so dark that he just laid around and refused to eat.

The zoo in which Dengo and Elza were kept, ZooNit, was a non-profit organization supported by the government, but lost its license for non-compliance  on the basics- you know, space, cleanliness, food. Dengo was allegedly living in a dark, cramped cage.

When ZooNit was closed, Dengo was sedated for his trip on an Air Force plane. According to the articles I read, he will now share an open space with Elza and other lions and Bengal tigers. I imagine Dengo is eating again, roaming, and doing whatever lions do when they are happy.

Chew on that one, guy from NY.  And chew on this: I love being a mush head. Never mind that it has taken me decades to understand the owl’s message, that I had to look backward before I could look forward.  In the owl’s world, time is relative.

That owl I bought for a tube of lipstick and a handful of trinkets proved to be quite prescient. In indigenous traditions, owls are messengers between the living and the dead. In Harry Potter, the owls deliver the mail. In some esoteric traditions, they are symbolic of profound change. They are prevalent in UFO lore. When they are an individual’s totem animal, that person is probably living at levels for which there is no language. We’ve written about owls before.  If you put owls into the search box, a lot more posts come up.

For Rob and me, that beautiful Amazonian owl was a message about transformation at the deepest  levels. Within a year of that trip, we sold several books, became full-time writers, and were doing what we loved. A few years later, Megan was born, and our lives were transformed again.

I often think about that owl and hope that its haunting song continues somewhere in time. And yes, I’ve long since embraced being a mush head.

UPDATE

It just occurred to us that we’ve posted another synchro related to this same vessel about another one of our trips up the Amazon back in the day. You can find that story here.

 

Posted in amazon, animals as messengers, owls | 40 Comments

The Dunnings

Posted on August 8, 2011 by Trish and Rob

from Carl Jung’s red book

 

This story is from Judy S,  whose story, Judy and Hank, appeared on the blog and also in Synchronicity and the Other Side. Judy and Hank knew each other for 35 years – as partners, friends, soul mates. Hank passed on several years ago and Judy continues to experience synchronicities that follow the MO of spirit contact.

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On Saturday my friend Pamela and I were driving in Tarrytown just to escape the city heat and tour the Rockefeller Estate.  On our way to Kykuit we passed Dunning’s Road. Dunning was Hank’s last name so I looked at Pamela and said, “Hank’s saying hi.”

Then your book arrived and I began thinking about two of Hank’s (and my) friends, Jimmy and Glenn.  Glenn was unable to come to Hank’s memorial and I hadn’t heard from him since.  Well, I got a phone call the other night on the way home and the voice said, “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m on the Third Avenue bus.”

“Hi, Judy, it’s Glenn. I just had to call you because I read an article in the NY Times the other day about Mrs. Dunning (no relation) who is 101 and still drives her Packard.”

Now, of course this could just be a coincidence but I think your book brought this on. Pretty cool.

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It sounds like a  double synchro to me! Hank was just making sure Judy got the message.

 

Posted in judy and hank, spirit contact, synchronicity | 6 Comments

Ferris Wheel in the Sky

Posted on August 7, 2011 by Trish and Rob

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kmNxzMe8iQ&feature=player_embedded#at=57

 

Some Sunday musings. This very odd video looks like a ferris wheel in the sky. It appeared on the news in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Why is it that the news in many other countries reports on stuff like this but the media in the U.S. does not?

If memory serves, the media sort of laughed about the Phoenix sightings in 1997, when hundreds of people reported seeing mysterious lights, Only years later did the Arizona governor at the time admit that he’d seen them too.

Even more to the point, what the heck IS this thing?

 

 

Posted in synchronicity, UFO | 14 Comments

Amazing Word Game

Posted on August 6, 2011 by Trish and Rob

Here is a truly amazing word game, especially the last part, courtesy of Nancy McMoneagle.

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Did you know that, the words “race car” spelled backwards still spells “race car”?

And that “eat” is the only word that, if you take the first letter and
move it to the last, spells its own past tense, “ate”?

And if you rearrange the letters in “Tea Party Republicans,” and add just a few more letters, it spells: “Shut the heck up you free-loading, progress-blocking, benefit-grabbing, resource-sucking, violent hypocrites, and deal with the fact that you nearly wrecked the country under Bush and that our president is black, so get over it.”
Isn’t that interesting?

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Yep.

 

 

Posted in synchronicity | 20 Comments

Trickster Economics

Posted on August 5, 2011 by Trish and Rob

On Friday afternoon, August 5, the coveted AAA credit rating the U.S. has enjoyed since 1917 was downgraded by Standard and Poor’s to AA+.  This one seems to have the trickster’s footprints all over it. It’s like Smeagol on hallucinogenics or Wiley coyote on steroids.

During the weeks of political theater in Washington over raising the debt ceiling, the U.S. Congress was reduced to caricature.  The Republicans were adamant that taxes wouldn’t be increased – even on millionaires, billionaires, and corporations, some of which  don’t pay any taxes at all.  The Democrats were adamant that programs in the social safety net – Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid – wouldn’t be cut and that the debt ceiling agreement would extend until 2013. In other words, that it wouldn’t be revisited during the 2012 election.

The Repugs insist that taxes shouldn’t be raised on the “job creators” – their catch term for the super wealthy. But the fact is that these so-called job creators aren’t creating any jobs. They aren’t hiring. They’re sitting on their wealth and it’s been growing in quantum leaps since Bush initiated these tax cuts early in his administration. Earlier this year, Obama extended the Bush tax cuts until 2013, and probably lost a major share of his progressive base. The man whose campaign was predicated on change was beginning to look like a moderate Republican.

At any rate, the day after Congress’ warring factions reached an agreement that doesn’t benefit the average Joe and Joanne, the stock market dropped more than 500 points, the largest plunge since the financial meltdown in 2008. It rebounded some today, August 5, but Monday should be a wild ride because of the downgrade of the U.S. credit rating by Standard and Poor’s.

At first, I thought, Wow,  S&P gets it. They understand that the posturing and political theater demanded a downgrade because raising taxes must be part of the debt solution. Then I read Paul Krugman’s blog. Krugman is a Nobel prize winner in economics. His bio is here.  (Be prepared to start believing you’re an underachiever!)

From the beginning of the stimulus package passage in 2008 to prevent economic Armageddon, he contended the stimulus package wasn’t large enough, that the government needed to spend more to prevent a long-term recession. Turns out he was right and he is undoubtedly right now:

“…it’s hard to think of anyone less qualified to pass judgment on America than the rating agencies,” Krugman writes.  “The people who rated subprime-backed securities are now declaring that they are the judges of fiscal policy? Really? Just to make it perfect, it turns out that S&P got the math wrong by $2 trillion, and after much discussion conceded the point — then went ahead with the downgrade.”

It’s as if the trickster is mocking everyone. See? See? You guys had to muck up the works by attaching conditions and caveats to what should have been a simple raising of the debt ceiling. You avoided default at the 11th hour, but it didn’t matter. S&P downgraded your credit rating anyway and Moody and Fitch may do the same.

The larger question, of course, is what’s the message here? With Mercury, the trickster planet, retrograde until August 25, there are apt to be more rippling shocks like this one. The conspirator part of my personality wonders if S&P is in cahoots with the Repugs, who seem to want the country to slide into a double dip recession so that Obama will lose the 2012 election.

For reference, here’s more info from Bloomberg.

 

Posted in politics, synchronicity, trickster | 16 Comments

Beloved Infidel – the F. Scott Fitzgerald Saga

Posted on August 5, 2011 by Trish and Rob

Rob was teaching another six-week meditation course in a Taekwondo studio at the rear of our gym. It was the fourth session and began with Rob talking a bit about what we were going to do that evening.

At the beginning of our first meditation, he said, we should ask about an issue that concerns us. It could be anything, in any area – relationships, profession, family, money, whatever. The music he played was comprised of an orchestra of singing bowls and the beautiful textures of the tones made it easy to slip into a relaxed state. For some reason, I started thinking about all the people we have known over the years who have died. Not just family, but individuals in publishing with whom we worked. I thanked all of them for what they had done for us, and suddenly recalled a weird encounter in 1988.

Diane Cleaver was my first agent. She was a Brit, gay, whose name I got from the parents of an aspiring writer who lived in the same complex I did in Vero Beach. I was teaching English to hormonal 7th and 8th graders at the time and writing nights and weekends. Diane had just left her position as an editor at Simon and Schuster, had joined Sanford J Greenburger, and was looking for clients. I had just finished my first novel.  It was 1978.

That first novel didn’t sell. Neither did novels 2, 3, 4 or 5. But Diane never gave up. I wrote, she submitted, and in 1984, Chris Cox at Ballantine Books bought In Shadow, my sixth attempt.  After Rob and I got married, Diane became his agent, too. Periodically, she would send tips our way that were based on our interests,  skills and location. Hey, you guys interested in this project? That project? One day she called and asked if we would be interested in working with Sheila Graham, who was writing a memoir.

“THE Sheila Graham who was F. Scott Fitzgerald’s mistress? THAT Sheila Graham?” I exclaimed.

An amused chuckle from Diane. “Yes, that Sheila Graham.”

Well, yes, we were interested. I was beside myself. I loved Fitzgerald’s work, had read everything he’d written, everything that had been written about him, his wife, Zelda, and about his affair with Graham. I read a biography about his editor, Max Perkins and about his take on Fitzgerald’s relationships with Zelda and Graham. I was so steeped in Fitzgerald and his screwed up life that the mere idea of meeting Graham prompted me to pull out all my Fitzgerald material and thumb through it again. I think Rob and I even watched Beloved Infidel again, the movie based on Graham’s book about her three and a half years with Fitzgerald.  In the movie, Gregory Peck played Fitzgerald and Deborah Kerr played Graham.

So one morning in November 1988, we drove north to Palm Beach, to a condo or apartment complex, I can’ recall which – hey, this was 23 years ago – where Graham lived. We had made the appointment through a woman who worked for her. I got the impression that the woman was an assistant.

But when we entered the apartment, I realized the woman was her caretaker, a nurse or nurse’s aid. Graham was 84 years old, a small, frail woman in a wheelchair, her hair totally white, her glasses thick, riding low on the bridge of her nose. But there was nothing wrong with her mind, her memories. We had a lot of questions and she had the answers.

Graham met Fitzgerald in the summer of 1937, when she was writing her celebrity column, Hollywood Today, which she wrote for 35 years. She claims in her books – and when we talked to her – that they fell in love instantly. At the time, Fitzgerald was still married to Zelda, who was institutionalized, and was writing for Hollywood to pay for Zelda’s hospital bills and his daughter’s school bills. They lived together – he,  Sheila, and Fitzgerald’s alcoholism were constant companions.

During our conversation with her, she showed us a few pictures she had of herself and Fitzgerald, and said that other photo albums and letters were being sent to her, that we would have all of it at our disposal. The pictures were faded to sepia tones, but showed Fitzgerald as a kind of dapper Gatsby, and Sheila pretty much as she looks in this photo:

I asked her about the feud between Hemingway and Fitzgerald. It’s alluded to in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris, where Hemingway expresses his dislike for Zelda. Sheila mentioned it and said that Fitzgerald always felt inferior to Hemingway. This has always struck me as ridiculous.  Fitzgerald was the better writer, with the soul of a poet possessed of the ability to delve emotionally into his characters’ lives, even into those dark pockets where all the demons live. Hemingway, I think, was a closet misogynist, Mr. Macho Man – I hunt, I kill, I take trophies, and – bottom line – I don’t like women very much.

I remember that Sheila’s living room smelled of sickness, a faintly floral aroma that isn’t at all pleasant. It reminded me she was 84, at her Uranus return, an astrological cycle where that  planet returns  to where it was when you were born. It’s the age of sudden death – metaphorically or actually – where you either accept where and who you are or choose to pass on.

Many years later, I asked Hemingway’s niece, Hilary, about Fitzgerald and Uncle Ernie. She didn’t know either man, but since she and Andy Garcia have written a script about Hemingway’s final days in Cuba, she has access to all the family files and memorabilia. “I just want to be done with him,” she said. “I don’t care who was the better writer. That was decades ago. I’m living my own life.”

And so, apparently, was Sheila Graham. Several days after we met with her, she died of congestive heart failure.

See what happens when you meditate?

Posted in Fitzgerald, Sheila Graham, writers | 17 Comments

Cowboys and Aliens

Posted on August 4, 2011 by Trish and Rob

Arizona, 1878.  Desert. Hot sun. A lone cowboy comes to suddenly, gasping and injured, obviously confused. He has a shackle on his wrist and tries to break it open with a rock, to no avail. In the sand, he finds a piece of a photograph of a pretty young woman.  As he’s puzzling over it, four men ride up behind him and say they’re headed for the town of Absolution and does he have any idea how far they are from it?

The cowboy (Daniel Craig), doesn’t speak. The four men wonder aloud if there’s a bounty on him and  one of them gets off his horse, rifle in  hand, and we suddenly discover the lone cowboy not only fights well, but the mysterious shackle on his wrist is some sort of weapon.

The dog that was with the four men follows the cowboy into Absolution, a town that lives in fear of  Colonel Dolarhyde – Harrison Ford – and definitely doesn’t welcome strangers. We learn that the cowboy doesn’t have any memory of what his name is, who he is, what his past is. He’s a blank slate.

The cowboy isn’t in town very long before the sheriff (Keith Caradine) realizes that the photo on a wanted poster looks very much like the lone cowboy. His name is Jake Lonergan and he’s wanted for robbing a stage coach filled with gold and for the murder of a young woman. The sheriff and his boys  enter the bar, where a mysterious woman is pestering Jake, asking him repeatedly if he remembers.  The sheriff, of course, attempts to arrest Jake, a fight ensues in good ole Western style, and the mysterious woman is the one who knocks Jake out.  As he’s being put into a stage coach later to be taken to the federal marshal, she approaches the coach and apologizes. “But it was the only way I could keep you here.”

The next scene is bizarre, unexpected, and riveting because you’re reminded it’s 1878, the Old West. Multiple lights appear at the end of the main road through town and people come out to watch, astonished, mesmerized. The lights grow larger, there’s some sort of percussive boom, and suddenly, multiple UFOs zoom over the town – and unleash a firestorm of destruction.

As people are diving for cover, dozens of them are whisked up into the air, the classic abduction scenario, except that they are lassoed by chains.

From IMDB, written by Universal:

“…Absolution is about to experience fear it can scarcely comprehend as the desolate city is attacked by marauders from the sky. Screaming down with breathtaking velocity and blinding lights to abduct the helpless one by one, these monsters challenge everything the residents have ever known. Now, the stranger they rejected is their only hope for salvation. As this gunslinger slowly starts to remember who he is and where he’s been, he realizes he holds a secret that could give the town a fighting chance against the alien force. With the help of the elusive traveler Ella, he pulls together a posse comprised of former opponents-townsfolk, Dolarhyde and his boys, outlaws and Apache warriors-all in danger of annihilation. United against a common enemy, they will prepare for an epic showdown for survival.”

This movie is such great fun, a classic western with stage coach robbers, Apaches, mean cowboys, and the intriguing twist of nasty aliens, who actually have a motive for being on Earth – they’re mining gold. The storytelling is tight, the pacing and conflict so perfect that your disbelief is suspended from the opening scenes.  It has all the Spielberg touches – including a kid and a dog – and it’s great to see Harrison Ford as a gruff, aging cowboy with a few things to learn about his own humanity. Daniel Craig is ideally cast as the archetypal outsider.

Interestingly, we didn’t read any of the reviews before we went to see the movie, so when we got home, I checked them out. The very elements we enjoyed about the movie, reviewers tore apart. I love it when genres are mixed – the reviewers not so much.  From the L.A. Times:

It’s hard to say what is most depressing about “Cowboys & Aliens” — the film itself, or the fact that this was the best movie a posse of major Hollywood players could come up with.

Our advice? Ignore the reviews.  Cowboys and Aliens is a great, imaginative romp.

Here’s the trailer link: cowboys and aliens

 

 

 

 

Posted in cowboys and aiens, movies, synchronicity | 22 Comments

The Cone

Posted on August 3, 2011 by Trish and Rob

 

The cone is a dreaded phrase in South Florida at this time of year. It refers to the cone of probability that appears in every hurricane forecast. The farther out in time the forecast extends, the wider the cone gets.

As you can see from the image above, this is the cone of probability for Tropical Storm Emily. As of 11 PM on August 1, the National Hurricane Center forecast  that the storm’s projected path would take Emily across the Dominican Republic on Wednesday afternoon (August 3), before moving toward the Bahamas, with a possible landfall along the South Florida coast on Saturday afternoon, August 6, as a category 1 hurricane.  This means sustained winds between 74-95 mph.

Last week, I mentioned to Rob that we needed to have someone out here to look at a leak in our porch roof and also around a skylight in our kitchen. I was remembering how during our last hurricane in October 2005, the skylights – we have four of them – vibrated so fast and loudly in the wind that they filled the house with a kind of scary music. The  other day, during a routine thunderstorm, I noticed water dripping down from the kitchen skylight and pooling on the floor. In a hurricane, the structural integrity of your home depends to a large degree on the condition of your roof, skylights, and windows.

There’s a possibility that Emily will veer north, out into the Atlantic, before ever brushing Florida or any other part of the U.S. coast. That’s the scenario we’re visualizing. But tomorrow or the next day, I’ll head over to the grocery store – not just to pick up extra supplies, but to get a readout on what other people are feeling.

In the past, I’ve found that the collective sense about where a hurricane will make landfall may be more accurate than the hurricane center’s forecast. If the aisle with bottled water is completely empty, if there isn’t a single pack of batteries or bag of charcoal on the shelves, if the fresh fruit bins are bare, if shelves of canned goods are so stripped down that only canned beets or lima beans remain, then it’s likely the hurricane will make landfall.

My other indicator is wildlife. If, around Thursday, August 4, we find ants sneaking into the house in great numbers, if there’s a scarcity of birds in the neighborhood, if the squirrels aren’t ravaging the mangos on our trees, then the hurricane probably will make landfall.  On Friday, August 5, if Emily is going to visit our area, our pets will start registering minute fluctuations in barometric pressure and either won’t go outside or will dart out to do their business and return fast.

I recall at least once instance years ago when Fort Lauderdale, where we lived at the time, was under a hurricane warning – i.e., a hurricane was predicted to hit within 24-36 hours. But our cat wasn’t picking up anything unusual even eight to ten hours before the hurricane was supposed to make landfall. He went about his usual routine, chasing lizards, lazing in the sun. That’s when I knew the forecasters were wrong. Sure enough, the hurricane made a sudden unexpected turn away from the coast.

This is when our animal buddies become extraordinary messengers. Maybe the planetary empaths among us will pick up something.

 

PS As of the evening of August 2, the cone has been moved farther to the east. Florida is still at the edge of the cone, but hopefully we’ll just get a lot of rain, which we need!

 

 

Posted in synchronicity | 17 Comments