Gypsy’s Road Trip Synchros

Posted on May 7, 2010 by Trish and Rob

                                           Painting by Paul Klee

Travel synchronicities are always intriguing and can involve virtually any sort of meaningful coincidence. For Gypsy, whose synchros we’ve posted before, a recent trip east was jammed with synchronicities. She was kind enough to write up this one, which has the trickster’s fingerprints on it. The story also addresses the law of attraction – and manifestation, but with word plays!

Since Gypsy led me to Paul Klee, I decided to use one of his paintings to illustrate this synchro.
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On my first morning of the trip east as I travel through the Virginia mountains,  the day has been OK but there are the beginnings of overcast skies and then clouds. I’m really hoping  it doesn’t rain as I love seeing all the spring glory in the mountains. But the skies darken.  I’m in the right lane going up the mountain and thinking the clouds are  really are looking ominous, like the tornadic clouds I used to see in northern Little Rock years ago.

So as I’m watching the clouds swirl and hoping they don’t swirl downward, I see a large white bus about to pass me in the middle of this.I’m thinking how stupid – pouring rain, uphill, winds blowing, passing in outside lane. And there, as the draws alongside me, I see two words written in huge black letters  on the side of the bus:  “TORNADO TOURS.”

So I’m going on down the mountain and the winds have started to lighten a bit and the rain is no longer pouring and I’m thinking  it’s getting better.. So I decide to listen to some music to lighten my clinched-fist-on-the-steering-wheel mood. Before I’d left home, my daughter had played a couple of her own CDs and had taken a couple of mine out to do hers so I  had no clue as to what CD was in which  order or even if she’d replaced the ones she’d emoved. In any event, I hit the “on” button and there was Van the Man (Morrison) singing these exact words:   “then the rain let up and the sun came up and we were gettin’ dry…”

As if that isn’t enough, after another hour or so I realize how hungry I am. I haven’t eaten at all. But I’m still in the mountains in between little villages and towns, wondering which exits would have “real” food like fresh fruit. I’m debating with myself about where to turn off. I’m starving, can’t wait too much longer for a bite of something. I look down the road and see a large sign: Hungry Mother State Park. 

On the last leg of my trip down the mountain, I hit the little two-lane highway  that is a straight shot to Shrevesport, my destination. It isn’t a route I like.There are no towers at all in the area, so cell reception is impossible. The road is in bad shape, it’s dark, you get the picture. Despite my trepidation, I decide  to just buckle up and keep moving as it’s the shortest route. Now, about this time I’m having a mental dialogue with myself about the highway and I remember this is the same highway where the crash scene in the movie Premonition was filmed. I get this cold, clammy feeling and grip the steering wheel more tightly.

Just as I’m thinking how much I don’t like this, a star streaks across the highway right in front of me. What a sign. I immediately relax, knowing that all is well.

Posted in travel, word play | 10 Comments

The White Rabbit and the Lost Earring

Posted on May 6, 2010 by Trish and Rob

 The ways in which lost objects return to their owners usually involves nearly impossible odds and synchronicity. Last yeaer, we posted one such story. Now we’ve got another one, from T. Clear.
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 About ten years ago I’d lost an earring that my boys had given me for Mother’s Day. They were my faves — a blue stone called “Montana” in a sterling setting. After it had been gone for about a month, I came home from work one evening just at dusk, and as I got out of my car in the driveway, saw a white rabbit on the grassy parking strip. White rabbit! I squatted down in a lapine fashion, so as to be closer to this seeming apparition. It performed the customary nose twitches, and I attempted conversation. In the process, something glimmered in a last sunray between the stones in the aggregate driveway — aha! A piece of earring, tarnished, stoneless, but otherwise intact, which was amazing considering that I had driven over it many times in the previous thirty days. And when I turned my head just a fraction, I saw the blue stone, also safely nestled between stones. Joy! I brought it inside, polished up the silver, tweaked the setting with my pliers, and glued the Montana gem back into place. AND NEVER SAW THE RABBIT AGAIN.

So. Recently P. and I were downtown Seattle for a Patty Griffin show, and after eating dinner at The Virginia Inn, had some time to kill before the doors opened, so we high-tailed it a few blocks down to the Borders store on 4th. While perusing books, I reached up to my ear and realized I’d once again lost an earring, a lovely golden dangler I bought from an artist at the Redmond Farmer’s Market. Sadness! And we’d covered a lot of pavement that evening since I’d put them on…

As we headed back over to the concert venue, while bemoaning the loss of yet another favorite earring, I began to tell P. the tale of the white rabbit and the blue gem. I can get dramatic with the body language in the midst of story-telling, and said, as I gestured passionately down to the sidewalk — and I looked down at the driveway and THERE IT WAS —

Well, indeed. In fact, it was there, the golden earring, exactly where I was pointing. And how many people had walked past it while we moseyed through the bookstore? Walked by and missed its glint, its glimmer? Or saw it and left it in hopes of retrieval by its owner?

Luck? Coincidence? Magic? (ie, white rabbit.)

All of the above?
Posted in lost objects, white rabbit | 18 Comments

UPDATE: Oil Spill and the Loop Current

Posted on May 5, 2010 by Trish and Rob

  These images are from ABC, illustrating how the oil spill metastasized in just three days. The CEO of British Petroleum has said that stopping the leak is “like performing open heart surgery at 5,000 feet.”

Fishing has been banned in the gulf. The oil spill is now predicted to be worse than the Valdez.Within a day, the spill is supposed to enter the Loop Current – think of this as the gulf stream’s conveyor belt – and eventually it will enter the Florida Keys and enter the Gulf stream along the east coast of the U.S. 

If you saw the head honcho of BP on the news at any point today – May 3 – then you undoubtedly heard him say that even though the company wasn’t responsible for the spill, they will pay for the cleanup. Huh? They aren’t responsible? Then who is?

Rush Limbaugh said that the “ecology would self-regulate.” Huh? Isn’t this what the experts claimed about the free market and derivatives?

Representative Gene Taylor, a Democrat from Mississippi, compared the massive oil slick to “chocolate milk” and said it would break up naturally. Huh? Doesn’t that sound a lot like Rush’s “self-regulation”?

House Minority Leader John Boehner (R-Ohio) has a novel approach to the problem: keep drilling.

Senator Mary Landrieu (D-Louisiana!) is demanding that the U.S. not “retreat” from further offshore drilling.

Governor Rick Perry of Texas attributed the spill to “an act of God” and hopes that it won’t deter us from drilling in the gulf.

Meanwhile, California’s Republican governor Schwarzenegger has withdrawn his support of gulf drilling, Florida’s Governor Crist says to forget it. You would think that “forgetting it” would be obvious, right? I mean, really, does the message get any louder than this?

Today, I went to our local Publix to buy fish for dinner. The guy behind the counter, who definitely knows his fish and his customers, informed me that tuna would be on sale tomorrow. Then he said, “At least tuna won’t be in short supply soon, but just about everything else will be.”

The oil spill has become what Seth (Jane Roberts) would call a mass event. It has entered the collective consciousness. So for the last few days, I’ve been paging through The Individual and the Nature of Mass Events,  one of the books Jane Roberts channeled for Seth, searching for something relevant to this catastrophe. The book was published in 1981, long before these kinds of disasters. The closest analogy is the Three Mile Island horror,  man-made, like this one, but Seth doesn’t go into it in any depth. I ran across some other treasures, though, that we might apply generally.

“There is nothing more stimulating, more worthy of actualization, than the desire to change the world for the better. That is indeed each person’s mission. You begin by working in that area of activity that is your own unique one, with your own life and activities. You begin in the corner of an office, or on the assembly line, or in the advertising agency, or in the kitchen. You begin where you are.”

Always, according to Seth and many other metaphysical teachers, our point of power lies in the present.  
So perhaps, collectively,we should imagine the spill gone. Poof. Blue waters. Ecosystems flourishing. Dolphins, turtles, birds, fish, jellyfish, everyone is doing fine out there. Turn off the news for a few days. Maintain the image of a flourishing ocean, a happy planet. Maybe this practice is delusional. But hey, suppose it isn’t? Maybe it’s the same energy that operates when a group of people pray for the healing of a loved one.Can’t hurt to try.

Posted in oil spill, Seth | 18 Comments

Synchros in the news

Posted on May 5, 2010 by Trish and Rob

Patrons at a bar in Wisconsin had a reason to ‘fear the deer’ when two deer crashed through the glass door and raced into the bar while the patron were watching the Milwaukee Bucks.
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Meanwhile, the address of the busted Times Square car bomber was made public. It’s 119 Long Hill Ave., Shelton, Connecticut. Those numbers, of course, are 911 backwards.  It looks like he did everything backwards, bungling the job. A good thing, too.

Thanks to Connie Cannon for the heads up on the address. She also notes that numbers are read right to left in Hebrew and Aramaic.

UPDATE:
Here’s the best synchro in the news for the past week. A newscaster reporting about Tiger Wood’s neck injury misprounced disk calling it…Tiger’s ‘bulging dick.’

Posted in 91, car bomber | 8 Comments

Kali the Conure

Posted on May 4, 2010 by Trish and Rob

One day while poking around in blogland, I ran across a wonderful story about mourning doves at maggie’s secret garden. Her story reminded me of the dusky conure we bought in 2000, a few weeks after we had moved into our present home. Kali was a present for Megan’s 10th birthday.

We bought her at a wonderful pet store where many of the birds that are sold are hand-raised in the hatchery. We even knew her birthdate – 6/4/2000. We couldn’t adopt her until she was a certain number of weeks old, so every afternoon, Megan and I drove up to the store to spend time with Kali.

From the moment we brought her home, she got along famously with our golden retriever. Our three cats didn’t seem to know what to make of her and never bothered her. My dad, who was living with us then and in a wheelchair, got a real kick out of her when she rode on the back of his wheelchair or on his shoulder. 
At first, she spent her days on our back porch, always out of her cage, where she could see other birds in the yard. Rob taught her to say a few words, which she eagerly used whenever one of us were within range.

As she got older, we would move her cage and its stand outside every morning, beneath a large schefflera tree. Her cage door was always open and it wasn’t long before she learned to climb onto the top of the cage and then into the tree. She would climb down only when the spirit moved her to splash around in the large bowl we kept on top of her cage. Every evening at dusk, we moved her and the cage inside again. She would crawl inside her little hammock, roll onto her back, and sleep the night away. Kali was the paragon of embrace the moment.

In 2004, she laid a couple of eggs and sat on them for a full straight month before we finally were able to dispose of them. They weren’t fertilized and were beginning to rot! Relieved of the need to sit on the eggs, she returned to he roost in the tree outside.

2004 was a bad year for hurricanes in South Florida. During two hurricanes that hit our area, Rob, Megan and I brought all the animals in with us, into the back bedroom. As rain and wind pounded the hurricane shutters, as the power went off, as the streets started to flood, Kali was perfectly happy on top of her cage or huddled into the little cloth cocoon where she slept at night. But she was always delighted afterward to climb up into her tree in the back yard. And it was her tree. When other birds came around, she made it clear that although they were welcome, she was the boss of this tree.

The fall of 2005 was difficult. My dad died in September and a month later,  Hurricane Wilma roared into town. Fortunately, Wilma was traveling fast, but she was intense. The front part of the storm tore apart back yards, hurled fences away,  ripped down power lines, ripped off roofs. The eye of the storm passed right over our area and suddenly the sky turned blue, the air was balmy, the sun shone. We knew we had about 30 minutes to walk outside and access the damage before the back side of the storm hit us.

The first thing we noticed was that Kali’s tree had been split down the middle, the top of it lobbed off as if some monster had taken a huge bite out of it. In retrospect, I realize it freaked me out, which was why I didn’t take any photos of it. The tree had begun its life in my parents’ back yard and when we had moved, I’d dug it up and potted it and brought it with us.

There wasn’t much time to think about it. We cleaned up what we could and hurried inside as the back of the storm came at us.

Thirty minutes later, Wilma had moved on and a cold front swept in.  No one had electricity and all over the neighborhood, generators were now chattering away. We put Kali outside near her tree,  but it was apparent that she wasn’t happy about its ruined condition. Then something spooked her – a generator, one of us moving too fast or something, and suddenly she took off into the dusk, squawking loudly. We ran after her, thought we saw her perched on a pole, but then it got dark and she stopped squawking. We kept walking around the area, calling for her, but she didn’t squawk back, didn’t appear.

It got down into the 40s that night and I worried about her out there, in the cold. The next morning, Rob found her across the street, burrowed under some wet leaves, shivering. Not a single vet office was open, we were helpless and just tried to keep her warm.  She died a day later, laying on my chest. In some way, the ruin of her tree presaged her death. And because that tree had been born in my parents’ back yard, it also closed a chapter in my own life.

We buried her under the tree. About a year later, we noticed the tree was recovering. Where it had been split in half, leaves were sprouting on both sides of the split. Now, five years later, the tree has fully recovered. I hope it means that Kali and perhaps my dad, in some new form,  may be on their way back to us.

Posted in birds as messengers, kali, nature | 16 Comments

UPDATE: Censorship in Thailand

Posted on May 4, 2010 by Trish and Rob

Apparently Thailand censors the Internet. We received this note from a friend who is living there, concerning our post about supernatural breasts!
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” You know, I can’t open the post on your blog. It’s been blocked by Thai super authorities…because of the bras, I think. Weird when you think that in Patpong, the red light district, there are women serving drinks with no clothes on, wearing just boots.”

She subscribes to the posts, however, and was apparently able to receive today’s post through email. The censorship concerned her access to the actual post.

Posted in internet censorship, Thailand | 13 Comments

The supernatural power of breasts

Posted on May 3, 2010 by Trish and Rob

 You might recall the news item from a couple of weeks ago about the Iranian hard-line cleric who said women who dress promiscuously were to blame for earthquakes. “When promiscuity spreads, earthquakes increase,” Hojatoleslam Kazim Sadeghi said in a video posted on YouTube.

So, in reaction, American student Jennifer McCreight organized a ‘boobquake’ last Monday. She encouraged women to join her and embrace the supposed supernatural power of their breasts. She added that short shorts would also work as a means of scientifically testing the cleric’s hypothesis.

The 22-year-old science student at Purdue University in Indiana said that after changing out of her immodest clothes, she would look at the earth’s seismic activity and compare it to the norm. “If an earthquake reduces only my bedroom to rubble, I’d also take that as sufficient evidence for God’s wrath. I’m not too worried.”

By Monday, more than 55,000 women signed up on the official “Boobquake” Facebook page where McCreight vowed to put her D-cup breasts to the earthquake test.

So what happened? Well, there was an earthquake. A 6.5 Richter-scale boob-shaker rattled Taiwan prompting on-line suggestions that the cleric might be right. We don’t think so. But it made a great little trickster synchronicity. By the way, there were 159 earthquakes in 2009 registering 6.5 or larger, and already 71 this year.

Posted in boobquake, earthquakes, serial trickster | 20 Comments

The Cat That Traveled 1300 Miles

Posted on May 2, 2010 by Trish and Rob

We’ve posted quite a few synchronicities about animals. I’m not so sure this one is a synchro, but it’s a story with a happy ending, something we need more of these days! Charles the cat had his own incredible journey that really does defy the odds.

Posted in animals, cats | 8 Comments

The Dream of Lost Souls

Posted on May 1, 2010 by Trish and Rob

photo by Jennifer Gerard

I was poking around on Butternut Squash’s wonderful blog and came across this stunning story about a dream she had during one of her earlier trips to Asia. We’ve posted several of her synchronicities and all of them are rich, profound, and take you right into the heart of a deeper mystery. This one is no exception.
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Dreams have some catching up to do after you have been without sleep for so long. I always find that my dreams are more colorful and fantastic when I have been without them for a while. But sometimes I have dreams that are not of the same quality as the others. I have had a few that have come true in inconsequential ways, some that are scary and some that are easy to control so that I can take flight and go where I like. This type of lucid dreaming is my favorite. But three times in my life, I have had a very different kind of dream.
 
The third time that I had one of these dreams was after that long journey to Thailand shortly after I was married at 29. My hotel room had two single beds. I fell asleep very quickly, but shortly after I fell asleep, I was aware of the room again as if I was looking through the backs of my eye-lids. Everything in the room was exactly as it had been when I went to bed except that I had visitors.

There was a monk lying seemingly deceased on the bed next to mine. Around the departed or nearly departed, three other monks in long dark red robes with large yellow hats were marching clockwise around the body. One of them swung an incense burner as they circumnambulated and chanted. They were completely absorbed in what they were doing until they came around the foot of the bed. One of the monks realized that I was there and looked  right into my eyes with a fierce and fixed gaze. I cannot ever remember the feeling of being seen in any other dream than this one. Usually it is the dreamer that does all of the seeing.

In seconds I was awake again and running down the stairs to the lobby. I asked the teenagers at the desk how old the building was and had anyone ever seen any ghosts there before. They said that the building was quite old but they hadn’t heard about any ghosts. They also pointed out that Thai monks wear orange robes and do not have big yellow hats.

I couldn’t go back to sleep that night. I didn’t want to be alone in the room, so I went out on the town with another guest at the hotel.

The dream was vivid in my imagination for years. A couple of years after my first child was born, I was on another buying trip in Nepal. There on the wall of a different hotel was a mural of the same red robed monks with large yellow hats that I had seen in my dreams.

It just so happened that on this trip, I was treated to a dinner by a member of the Dalai Lama’s family because I had done her a small favor. (It’s a very big family.) I was so surprised about the painting I had seen on the wall, that I had to tell her my dream. She was sure it was a reincarnation dream and that perhaps my son was a reincarnate. She urged me to contact his holiness’s office. I still have his business card, but I was not prepared for the prospect of a special Buddhist education for my child. I have never made any contact.

Over the years I have thought many times of Lhasa’s lost. All of those deeply religious gentle souls that passed so quickly and so violently. I think about their spirits being scattered around the world still praying for the enlightenment of all of us.

Posted in dreams, ghosts, monks, Nepal, reincarnation, spirit contact, travel | 10 Comments

Wilkes and Stupid and Gone with the Wind

Posted on April 30, 2010 by Trish and Rob

Cluster synchronicities involve the repetition of names, numbers, and objects, usually within a short period of time. We’ve posted quite a few that deal with number clusters (11s are popular) and with names. We particularly enjoyed this cluster synchro from Johnny Walsh, who we “met” through evolver.net. It’s a layered travel synchro,  which makes it even more interesting.

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On a recent visit to my daughters in upstate New York,we watched “Gone With the Wind” on one of the cable TV stations. A main character in that great movie is Ashley Wilkes. At one point while we watched, that rogue Rhett Butler refers to him as “that stupid Ashley.” After that, whenever Mr. Wilkes appeared on the screen, the kids would yell, “Stupid Ashley!”

After the movie’s stirring climax, we retired for the night. For some pre-sleep relaxation, I opened the new “New Yorker” magazine, plus I turned on the radio. On a talk show a gentleman was plugging his book about coincidence and synchronicity. A cartoon in the magazine caught my eye. It depicted two headstones abutting each other–on the left, the deceased’s name is clearly seen as “Wilkes.” The other stone had an arrow pointing to Wilkes’ gravesite, and has emblazoned upon it “I’m With Stupid,” like the old novelty t-shirts. Just to have the cartoon/movie connection is nice, but to have a guy in the background talking about coincidences makes it a bit more savory.

And then, incredibly, this happened: On the train back to New York City, I had a seat to myself on the Syracuse-to-Albany leg of the trek. In Albany, an attractive woman in her 40’s got on the train and sidled into the empty seat next to me. She began reading the same “New Yorker” magazine I had read a couple of nights earlier. Later, we got to chatting and I asked if she saw that headstone cartoon, and she said she hadn’t. I described to her the coincidence involving a beloved movie, an amusing magazine cartoon, and an off-beat radio show.

She chuckled, if somewhat nervously, and then we both went back to our reading. It’s then that I noticed her Amtrak ticket stub on her pull-down tray in front of her. Under the PASSENGER NAME heading and her signature was her last name. The name printed on it was “Wilks.” No “e” in there like “Wilkes,” but certainly close enough.

I think she was too creeped out to tell me that her name related to my coincidence story after I had told it to her. I was a little creeped out too, I must admit, but I love it when the universe observes us instead of vice versa, and plays around with our minds a little bit.

Posted in clusters, names, travel | 21 Comments