Our July 12 post, The Numinous Quality of Clusters, received some of the strangest comments about people’s experiences with clusters. It’s the fifth secret in our book and states: Synchronicity manifests itself in clusters of numbers, names, objects, words, symbols. As you’ll see from the next two stories, clusters can occur with anything – even figs!
What’s particularly interesting about these stories – aside from the fig clusters – is that they also seem to be about spirit contact. We’ve heard of some truly bizarre ways that the dead communicate with the living, but figs are certainly a first.
Musing egret, who comments frequently – but doesn’t have a blog – commented:
“I love that word ‘numinous’ and all its definitions! (I looked them up.) I had a small cluster sync over the weekend. Sweetie brought me some ripening figs from a big tree near the golf course where he plays and I babbled on thanking him and reminiscing about my paternal grandma making batches of fig preserves every summer. Those fig preserves were the only fruit my grampa would have on his toast each morning.
“Next morning (Sunday) I started reading my favorite blogs and there on “Bayou Woman” was a recipe for fig preserves handed down 3 generations in her own family! I felt like my grandmother was whispering ‘hello, I love you.'”
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Then Gypsy followed with another comment, which reminded me (Trish) that she had related this story in an email and I had intended to write it up. Her fig story:
On July 4, my daughter, Lisa, was in the kitchen about to make a brunch meal for herself and her son and asked me if i would like some of her new birthday fig preserves her sister, Heather, had given her. Because I hadn’t been feeling well, I decided not to try them, but remarked how much I love them and wanted to preserve some myself. But they simply aren’t available here in Delaware. I said how weird it was that Heather had found fig preserves at a tjmaxx in Dover – grown and preserved in Rogers, Arkansas of all places.
“Now, Rogers is a little town in between Bentonville and Springdale, an area where many of our ancestors settled, where there is still family land and where my brother lived at the time of his death, so it holds special significance for me. Well, we’re in the middle of our discussion about figs and things related and there’s a knock at the carport door. The next door neighbor has dropped by to tell us that she was just at a little farmer’s market up the road and saw fresh figs there. She wanted me to know.
“It has to have been at LEAST two years since I mentioned figs to her – and as if that wasn’t weird enough, later that night I checked sitemeter and saw that someone from Rogers, Arkansas had just visited my blogs for the first time. My brother died in 1991 and while I think of him in some way or other every day, the past few weeks, it has been more than usual and even have dreamed of him several times although I don’t remember the content of the dreams.
“When he and I were kids and near fig trees, it was always the two of us who would spend hours picking the figs, eating them as we picked. I can still remember the sticky feel of the leaves and the figs and the heat of the summer when we picked them. His only child is grown now and has children of her own and has been talking to me for a couple of weeks about her father’s death and burial. So perhaps all of this is intertwined somehow.”
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Until we heard these two stories, we’d never heard of synchronicities involving figs! Go fig-ure.
