https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFq2PY3nRtc&feature=player_embedded#at=67
No telling what this thing actually is – a special effect, some weird anomaly. But the video is great fun to watch!
from Carl Jung’s Red Book
We had a wonderful time this evening talking with Radiah on the H20 Radio Network and covered synchros from many different angles. Take a listen. (We, uh, couldn’t figure out how to embed the code here, so this link takes you to the website. Or you can link to it through the pages above)
In this picture are Noah, the Golden Retriever at the forefront, Cody, another Golden, and Cody, a Husky. The two Codys are Noah’s karmic buddies, the ones he wrestles with, chases, the three of them tearing around the dog park despite the thick humidity, the awful heat. I suppose this might be a cluster synchro – two Codys, two Goldens. But maybe not. But it’s certainly a story for a hot summer afternoon.
In the picture, they’re sprawled in a makeshift pool we created with a tarp and a depression near the faucet/hose. All three dogs are rescues. It means there’s some trauma, from somewhere in their early lives. But these three guys know their traumas and issues aren’t anywhere near what a new arrival experienced.
The new dog (no pic, sorry) arrived yesterday, a friendly pooch, a mixed breed, his tail whipping back and forth, and trotted up to all the humans on the benches for pats, a few kind words, and then trotted off to sniff and investigate. But because the pooch was new to the park, Noah and the two Codys crowded around him with a dozen others dogs, sniffing, investigating, doing what dogs do with their sense of smell. The pooch got kind of freaked out and scurried under the bench where his humans sat.
Noah and the two Codys neared the bench, watching him, reading him. Then they all got up and ran after a football that Rob kicked out into the field. They never got aggressive or crowded around the pooch again. In those few moments that pooch was under the bench and the Noah and his buddies crowded around, I think pooch’s trauma was communicated. And from that moment on, it was hands off in the dog park. This dude has been through something bad and we’re not going to bug him.
Pooch is a rescue from Hurricane Katrina. According to his human, he spent three months on top of a truck, tethered to a 35-foot chain, in flood waters that had reached the windshield of the truck when he was saved. He barely tipped the scale at 25 pounds. Today, he weighs 75 pounds.
“My friend called and said she had this dog that needed me,” his human said. “He’d been found on top of a truck in the flood after Hurricane Katrina. She sent me pictures. I thought, ‘Oh shit, I can’t take another dog.’ But she did, and $5,000 and six years later, pooch is apparently flourishing.
“I had him flown to Florida from New Orleans and as soon as he landed, he went to the vet,” his human said. “The prognosis wasn’t good. For the first three months, he wouldn’t let me touch him. All he did was eat.”
As she was telling us the pooch’s story, Noah and the two Codys were crowded around the bench under which pooch had taken refuge. I think that was when pooch was telling his own version of the story, communicating it in the way dogs do, silent eye contact, body language, panting, a kind of telepathy.
Before we left the park that day, pooch was in the makeshift pool with Noah and the two Codys, cooling off. Unfortunately, the camera on my Blackberry had stopped working. But the next time these four dudes are together, sharing histories, I’ll snap a photo. Even in this photo, there’s a message here about camaraderie, hope, acceptance, and a comfort code to which dogs adhere.
from deviant art
These two synchros come from Carol Bowman, a past-life therapist and author of two books on children’s past lives. We’ve used several of Carol’s synchronicities before – on the blog and in 7 Secrets. Here and here are two of our favorites. These synchros are both short and to the point, the kinds that occur in the course of a given day, as if to let you know you’re in the groove, on the right track at this moment in time. They also illustrate, I think, just how connected we all are to each other.
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I finally broke down and bought a Kindle. It arrived in the mail today. The first download I bought is a book called In the Garden of Beasts, about pre-WWII Germany. I called my mother right after I finished downloading and told her I got a Kindle. She said my brother had called a few minutes before and had just downloaded a book about pre-WWII Germany–the same one. I think we both ordered it within minutes of each other. My brother and mother are on the same Kindle network. I’m going to network with them after that incident.
Then this evening I was gathering information to send to James Van Praagh’s web administrator for a chat room I’ll be doing through his website next week. The administrator wanted a photo and some other stuff. Right after I sent it off, I saw an email had come in from Steve (Carol’s husband). He forwarded an email from an attorney he works with who said to tell me hat he and his wife (a former client of mine) were at an advanced intuitive training at Omega with…James Van Praagh. So as I was sending that email off, the attorney was telling Steve to give me that information. I guess the intuitive training worked!!
I’d call that a good day after all.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
