#23 Anyone?

Since we’ve covered the #33 twice here, it’s time to take a look at the mysterious synchronicities related to #23, especially since it’s the 23rd.

The late Robert Anton Wilson wrote this article on the #23 phenomena in 1977 for the Fortean Times (issue #23). We knew that Wilson had died, but weren’t sure when. So after reading the article in another blog that posted it when the movie, The Number 23, came out in ’07, we went to Google and found a RAW website. It’s run by his daughter, whose last entry was dated July 23, 2007, seven months after his death on 1-11-07. (Be forewarned: the article is very long–about 23 inches.)

By Robert Anton Wilson

I first heard of the 23 enigma from William S Burroughs, author of Naked Lunch, Nova Express, etc. According to Burroughs, he had known a certain Captain Clark, around 1960 in Tangier, who once bragged that he had been sailing 23 years without an accident. That very day, Clark’s ship had an accident that killed him and everybody else aboard. Furthermore, while Burroughs was thinking about this crude example of the irony of the gods that evening, a bulletin on the radio announced the crash of an airliner in Florida, USA. The pilot was another captain Clark and the flight was Flight 23.

Burroughs began collecting odd 23s after this gruesome synchronicity, and after 1965 I also began collecting them. Many of my weird 23s were incorporated into the trilogy Illuminatus! which I wrote in collaboration with Robert J Shea in 1969–1971. I will mention only a few of them here, to give a flavour to those benighted souls who haven’t read Illuminatus! yet:

In conception, Mom and Dad each contribute 23 chromosomes to the fœtus. DNA, the carrier of the genetic information, has bonding irregularities every 23rd Angstrom. Aleister Crowley, in his Cabalistic Dictionary, defines 23 as the number of “life” or “a thread”, hauntingly suggestive of the DNA life-script. On the other hand, 23 has many links with termination: in telegraphers’ code, 23 means “bust” or “break the line”, and Hexagram 23 in I Ching means “breaking apart”. Sidney Carton is the 23rd man guillotined in the old stage productions of A Tale of Two Cities. (A few lexicographers believe this is the origin of the mysterious slang expression “23 Skiddoo!”.)

Some people are clusters of bloody synchronicities in 23. Burroughs discovered that the bootlegger “Dutch Schultz” (real name: Arthur Flegenheimer) had Vincent “Mad Dog” Coll assassinated on 23rd Street in New York when Coll was 23 years old. Schultz himself was assassinated on 23 October. Looking further into the Dutch Schultz case, I found that Charlie Workman, the man convicted of shooting Schultz, served 23 years of a life sentence and was then paroled.

Prof. Hans Seisel of the University of Chicago passed the following along to Arthur Koestler, who published it in The Challenge of Chance. Seisel’s grandparents had a 23 in their address, his mother had 23 both as a street number and apartment number, Seisel himself once had 23 as both his home address and his law office address, etc. While visiting Monte Carlo, Seisel’s mother read a novel, Die Liebe der Jeannie Ney, in which the heroine wins a great deal by betting on 23 at roulette. Mother tried betting on 23 and it came up on the second try.

Adolf Hitler was initiated into the Vril Society (which many consider a front for the Illuminati) in 1923. The Morgan Bank (which is regarded as the financial backer of the Illuminati by the John Birch Society) is at 23 Wall Street in Manhattan. When Illuminatus! was turned into a play, it premiered in Liverpool on 23 November (which is also Harpo Marx’s birthday). Ken Campbell, producer of Illuminatus!, later found, on page 223 of Jung’s Memories, Dreams, Reflections, a weird dream about Liverpool, which Campbell says describes the street intersection of the theatre where Illuminatus! opened (Jung, of course, was the first psychologist to study weird coincidences of this sort and to name them synchronicities). Campbell also claims that Hitler lived briefly in Liverpool when he was 23 years old, but I haven’t found the reference for that.

Recently, I was invited to join an expedition to the Bermuda Triangle. I declined because of other commitments, but “the crew that never rests” (Sir Walter Scott’s name for the Intelligence – or idiocies – who keep pestering us with this kind of phenomenon) refused to let me off the hook that easily. A few days after the expedition left, I turned on the television and caught an advertisement for the new film, Airport 77. The advertisement began with an actor shouting “Flight 23 is down in the Bermuda Triangle!”

A week later, Charles Berlitz, author of The Bermuda Triangle, claimed he had found a submerged pyramid “twice the size of the pyramids of Cheops” in the waters down there. You will find that monstrous edifice described in Illuminatus!, and it is specifically said to be “twice the size of the pyramid of Cheops” – but Shea and I thought we were writing fiction when we composed that passage in 1971. In 1977, Berlitz claims it is real.

I now have almost as many weird 23s in my files as Fort once had records of rains of fish, and people are always sending me new ones.

Euclid’s Geometry begins with 23 axioms.

As soon as I became seriously intrigued by collecting weird 23s, one of my best friends died – on 23 December.

My two oldest daughters were born on 23 August and 23 February respectively.

According to Omar Garrison’s Tantra: The Yoga of Sex, in addition to the well-known 28-day female sex cycle, there is also a male sex cycle of 23 days.

Burroughs, who tends to look at the dark side of things, sees 23 chiefly as the death number. In this connection, it is interesting that the 23rd Psalm is standard reading at funerals.

Heathcote Williams, editor of The Fanatic, met Burroughs when he (Williams) was 23 years old and living at an address with a 23 in it. When Burroughs told him, gloomily, “23 is the death number”, Williams was impressed; but he was more impressed when he discovered for the first time that the building across the street from his house was a morgue.

Bonnie and Clyde, the most popular bank-robbers of the 1930s, lived out most American underground myths quite consciously, and were shot to death by the Texas Rangers on 23 May, 1934. Their initials, B and C, have the Cabalistic values of 2–3.

W, the 23rd letter of the English alphabet, pops up continually in these matters. The physicist who collaborated with Carl Jung on the theory of synchronicity was Wolfgang Pauli. William Burroughs first called the 23 mystery to my attention. Dutch Schultz’s assassin was Charlie Workman. Adam Weishaupt and / or George Washington, the two (or one) chief source of 18th-century Illuminism, also come to mind. Will Shakespeare was born and died on 23 April.

(I have found some interesting 46s – 46 is 2 x 23 – but mostly regard them as irrelevant. Nonetheless, the 46th Psalm has a most peculiar structure. The 46th word from the beginning is shake and the 46th word from the end, counting back, is spear.)

Through various leads, I have become increasingly interested in Sir Francis Bacon as a possibly ringleader of the 17th-century Illuminati (Some evidence for this can be found in Francis Yates’s excellent The Rosicrucian Enlightenment). Bacon, in accord with custom, was allowed to pick the day for his own elevation to knighthood by Elizabeth I. He picked 23 July.

Dr John Lilly refers to “the crew that never rests” as Cosmic Coincidence Control Center and warns that they pay special attention to those who pay attention to them. I conclude this account with the most mind-boggling 23s to have intersected my own life.

On 23 July 1973, I had the impression that I was being contacted by some sort of advanced intellect from the system of the double star Sirius. I have had odd psychic experiences of that sort for many years, and I always record them carefully, but refuse to take any of them literally, until or unless supporting evidence of an objective nature turns up. This particular experience, however, was especially staggering, both intellectually and emotionally, so I spent the rest of the day at the nearest large library researching Sirius. I found, among other things, that 23 July is very closely associated with that star.

On 23 July, ancient Egyptian priests began a series of rituals to Sirius, continuing until 8 September. Since Sirius is known as the “Dog Star”, being in the constellation Canis Major, the period 23 July – 8 September became known as “the dog days”.

My psychic “Contact” experience continued, off and on, for nearly two years, until October 1974, after which I forcibly terminated it by sheer stubborn willpower (I was getting tired of wondering whether I was specially selected for a Great Mission of interstellar import, or was just going crazy).

After two years of philosophic mulling on the subject (late 1974 – early 1976), I finally decided to tune in one more time to the Sirius–Earth transmissions, and try to produce something objective. On 23 July 1976, using a battery of yogic and shamanic techniques, I opened myself to another blast of Cosmic Wisdom and told the Transmitters that I wanted something objective this time around.

The next week, Time magazine published a full-page review of Robert KG Temple’s The Sirius Mystery, which claims that contact between Earth and Sirius occurred around 4500 BC in the Near East. The 23 July festivals in Egypt were part of Temple’s evidence, but I was more amused and impressed by his middle initials, K.G., since Kallisti Gold is the brand of very expensive marijuana smoked by the hero of Illuminatus!.

The same week as that issue of Time, i.e. still one week after my 23rd experiment, Rolling Stone published a full-page advertisement for a German Rock group called Ramses. One of the group was named Winifred, which is the name of one of the four German Rock musicians in Illuminatus!, and the advertisement included a large pyramid with an eye atop it, the symbol of the Illuminati.

Coincidence? Synchronicity? Higher Intelligence? Higher Idiocy?

Of course, the eye on the pyramid was a favourite symbol of Aleister Crowley, who called himself Epopt of the Illuminati, and subtitled his magazine, The Equinox, “A Review of Scientific Illuminism”. And 2/3 equals .66666666 etc. – Crowley’s magick number repeated endlessly. Readers of this piece might find it amusing to skim through The Magical Revival and Aleister Crowley and the Hidden God, two books by Kenneth Grant, a former student of Crowley’s (and note the initials K.G. again!). You will find numerous references, cloudy and occult, linking Crowley in some unspecified way with Sirius.

The actor who played Padre Pederastia in the National Theatre production of Illuminatus! informed me that he once met Crowley on a train. “Mere coincidence”, if you prefer. But the second night of the National Theatre run, the actors cajoled me into doing a walk-on as an extra in the Black Mass scene. And, dear brothers and sisters, that is how I found myself, stark naked, on the stage of the National Theatre, bawling Crowley’s slogan “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law”, under the patronage of Her Majesty the Queen.

As a fortean, I am, of course, an ontological agnostic and I never believe anything literally. But I will never cease to wonder how much of this was programmed by Uncle Aleister before I was ever born, and I’m sure that last bit, my one moment on the stage of the National Theatre, was entirely Crowley’s work.

If you look up Crowley’s Confessions, you’ll find that he began the study of magick in 1898, at the age of 23.
* * *

If you’ve read this far, you might be interested in viewing the trailer for The Number 23, starring Jim Carrey. By most accounts, the trailer is all you need to see of this movie.

Posted in #23, Numbers | 5 Comments

Lucky 33

When NASCAR driver Kevin Harvick won at Bristol Motor Speedway Saturday, the feat was accompanied by the number 33. Harvick mastered the half-mile oval track with steep inclines in the heart of the Tennessee mountains in car #33. He is 33 years old and it was his 33rd race.

That report came from Joyce Evans of Milwaukee. It’s a stretch, but if you look at the date of his win: 3/21/09, you can easily extrapolate two more 33s. Add 2&1 and it’s 3/3 or 33. And the year 09 is 3X3, another 33.

Joyce also sent along a personal synchronicity, one of a precognitive nature. She was single and raising a child on her own in 1984 when she interviewed a psychic for a newspaper column. The woman told Joyce she would be married within four years. “I smiled and thought she’s flat out of her mind. I had no desire to get married.”

In September of 1986, a woman she met while waiting for a bus told her that she would meet her future husband by the end of the year. She’d just moved to Rockford, Illinois and didn’t know anyone there. But on Dec. 31, a pressman at the newspaper where she was working approached her and said he’d like to ask her out. She’d noticed the man in the lunchroom, but until that day they’d never talked.

They dated for six months in 1987, then broke up. They started seeing each other again, but Joyce found a new job in Macon, Georgia, and figured that was the end of the relationship. However, on her last night of work, he handed her a bouquet of flowers and asked her to marry him. He soon joined her in Macon and they were married in 1988, four years after the psychic’s prediction.

Posted in #33, Numbers | 2 Comments

Lost Keys

Our daughter, Megan, is active in an Abraham Hicks forum, and included our blog URL in one of her posts. The story came to our attention as a result of Megan’s post.

Leah Southey, a writer and editor, gave us permission to use her synchronicity story about lost keys. It happened to her on March 11, 2007, at Jenolan Caves in NWW, Australia, when she and her husband were celebrating their wedding anniversary. It’s particularly interesting because her intent, her desire, was answered.

While Leah and her husband were on a day tour of some caves in Australia, he husband realized he had lost his keys. Not only did it look as if the lost keys would ruin their day, they didn’t know how they would get home again. Leah asked Neil: “Do you want to find the keys yourself or do you want someone to hand them to you?”

For Leah, the decision about how he wanted this to work out was the most important part. “We agreed someone bringing them to us would be better. Despite that, he insisted we retrace our steps, go to the kiosk and the National Parks office to see if anyone had handed them in, and when that failed he went on a second tour of the cave we had already seen.”

While he was doing that, Leah sat by the river and tuned in to her guardian angel, Shiva, and asked where the keys were. “In a crisis, I automatically go to Shiva. He has helped me many times and taught me so much about metaphysics.” The answer was that the keys were “at the cave entrance”.

When she and Neil met up again, they returned to the entrance of the cave, but didn’t find the keys. “The tourist area was about to close and we were seconds away from doing major damage to our car when a couple of park officers drove around the parking area. They stopped next to us and a woman asked, ‘Would these help?’ She was dangling our keys out the window.”

The got the keys the way they had asked – someone handing them over. When Leah asked where the keys had been found, the woman said, “At the cave entrance.”

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Two Teacups

This story from Jim Banholzer originally appeared under the comment section about The Magic Teapots. But it’s such a powerful story, we decided to post it.

Dissimilar teacups are a potent metaphor:

Several weeks after piloting the atomic bomb that unleashed its devastation upon Hiroshima, Japan, U.S. Commander Paul “Warfield” Tibbets walked through and examined the swelled streets of Nagasaki where his comrades-in-arms had dropped the second bomb.

There “to sate his academic curiosity,” Commander Tibbets nonchalantly purchased some souvenir rice bowls and wooden teacups, later remarking, “Damndest thing you ever saw.”

Throughout his life, which ended only last year, Commander Tibbets always maintained that surgically dropping these vaporizing bombs was a patriotic mission that saved both sides millions of lives from what would otherwise have been a long enduring horrendous battle.

Around the same time as Commander Tibbet’s postwar walk, Navy skipper and Axis sub chaser Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who went on to become San Francisco’s City Lights Bookstore founder, peacenik warrior and beat poet extraordinaire, hiked among the same Nagasaki ruins. There he observed—as San Francisco Chronicle writer Paul McHugh reported two Veteran Days ago: “I saw a giant field of scorched mulch. It sprawled out to the horizon; 3 square miles looking like someone had worked it over with a huge blowtorch. A few sticks from buildings jutted up like black arms,” Ferlinghetti says. “I found a teacup that seemed like it had human flesh fused into it, just melted into the porcelain.” In that instant,” said the former submarine chaser Ferlinghetti, “I became a total pacifist.”

https://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/

Posted in bombs, global, peace, war, writers | 3 Comments

The Magic Teapots

Max, an “urban explorer, has a website called action squad.org (listed under websites of interest), where he writes about his explorations of caves, tunnels, rooftops and basements – “spaces between, spaces forgotten, spaces forbidden.” And he says he loves crawl spaces. That’s important, as you’ll see, since he lives in an old house built in 1912.

In mid-January 2006, Max traveled to California and he and a friend hiked to the very end of Tomales Point – the northernmost tip of land on the western side of the San Andreas fault line. Here, he had some sort of mystical experience. “We were surrounded on three sides by ocean, miles from the nearest road, buffeted by the wind cresting over the cliffs, in the most surreal, stunning landscape I have ever witnessed. The interplay of earth, water, light, and life were breathtaking, and the immediacy of the place and moment dwarfed all the things I’d thought were important to me back in civilization… I was washed away in experiencing the ‘oneness’ of all things.

“In the aftermath of the experience, I found myself on a roll of following some intuition, an inner voice that pulled me where it seemed I needed to go. I felt in control of my reality in a way I never had before- by letting go of reason and deliberation, silence the paralyzing mental chatter, and just – doing.”

Shortly after his return from California, he and friends went to a local thrift to go “trolling for cool junk.” Max was immediately drawn to an old teapot, but couldn’t justify why he felt so compelled to buy it. He rarely wandered through the house wares section in the store and had never considered himself to be the type of person who owns – or buys – a teapot. “Finally, I decided to go along with my fading post-Tomales Point intuition kick and just let myself be guided – by instinct, by magic, by whatever the hell it is.”

So the teapot went home with Max. “Trying to figure out why this teapot had demanded that I buy it, I brewed some instant teabags in it. The tea wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t anything special, either. Over the next few days, I was not surprised (but was disappointed) when nothing really came of the purchase.”

Then within a week of buying the teapot, Max decided to explore the crawlspace in his house. “And that is just one of the weird things involved in this tale. In eight years of living in the house, years spent exploring every dark and hidden nook and cranny I could find in the Twin Cities area, I had never, ever been into the crawlspace in my own house.”

The crawlspace had an access hatch in the wall, on the way to the basement. He found stuff – two dead mice, plastic sheeting, an old coffee can, rotting shoes. “As I crawled beneath the stairs, I felt something hard in the soft dirt beneath the plastic – a kinda domed bulge, sticking up slightly above the ground level. Maybe it was finally time to find a human skull?”

He pulled the object out- a corroded teapot. “The teapot I’d just found buried under my house was nearly identical to the teapot I’d brought home from the thrift store a few days earlier. Same design. Same size. Same materials. Same hinges. Same spout. One had a chain, the other did not.”
A magic teapot.

In an e-mail, Max added: “I have become a regular experiencer and appreciator of synchronicity … and changed my beliefs about many things in the world. It’s a far weirder and more wonderful place than I’d ever dared believe.”

https://www.teapotshappen.wordpress.com

Max has also contributed two other stories to this blog: Chicago Breakfast Bum and Dominoes.

Posted in max, objects | Tagged | 4 Comments

Synchronistic Parts Department

Richard Bach, author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, was barnstorming in the Midwest in 1966 with a rare biplane, a 1929 Detroit-Parks P-2A Speedster, only eight of which were ever built. In Palmyra, Wisconsin, Bach loaned the plane to a friend, who flipped it over upon landing. The damage was minor and the two men were able to fix everything except one strut. That repair looked hopeless because the part was custom-made for this rare plane.

Just then a man approached who owned the hangar near where they were working, and asked if he could help, offering to let them have any of the parts stored in his three hangars. When Bach explained the rare part he needed, the man walked over to a pile of junk and pointed to the exact part.

Bach concluded: “The odds against our breaking the biplane in a little town that happened to be home to a man with the forty-year-old part to repair it; the odds that he would be on the scene when the event happened; the odds that we’d push the plane right next to his hangar, within ten feet of the part we needed–the odds were so high that coincidence was a foolish answer.” (from Bach’s Nothing by Chance)

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Seven Senses

In researching synchronicity, we’re using Google alerts, so several times a day, we receive a roundup of everything Google finds on synchronicity. Not long ago, one of the alerts led to a blog by writer Elizabeth Miles, where she records her synchronicities. We left her a comment, asking if we could use some of her synchronicities on our blog or in the book or both. The following synchronicity is one of those oddities involving a repetition of a phrase. Check out her blog follow the signs. Here’s Elizabeth’s story:

TJ (Trish) had left a comment on a previous blog post and I discovered that TJ was a writer. I wanted to read one of her books and asked which one she recommended me to start with first (she said “Kill Time”). Well, I read that most of the reviews were positive but one reader said it wasn’t like her ‘typical’ books, so I wanted to find one of those typical books. The first one I clicked on was The Seventh Sense. In the Amazon description, it says that the main character was driving after drinking and gets into a car accident. This past weekend, I just spent 42 hours listening to DUI lectures as a social work intern (no, I did not get a DUI). What an odd coincidence. I bought both books, of course!

It is very unusual for me to have two synchronicities in one day, but now I’ve just had another one related to the ‘Seventh Sense’. I was looking for an astrological forecast booklet that I have on my bookshelf somewhere and I came across another booklet called, “The Reality Behind the Seven Senses” by Carley Dawson. I do not recognize it AT ALL. It’s like it just appeared. I don’t know whether it fell out of another book or what, but it does not look familiar to me. It is weird that I would find it right after my other synchronicity. Guess I should read it too!

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Filming synchronicity

Here’s an article about a film maker taking up the challenge of making a film about synchronicity. Included near the bottom is a link to a YouTube clip from the film in the making.

https://thegazz.com/gblogs/wvfilm/2009/03/16/synchonicity-a-future-film-by-ray-schmitt/

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Bermuda Triangle

Mysterious stories about the Bermuda Triangle abound, and many are speculation about what happened to ships and aircraft that vanished somewhere off the coast of Florida. But here’s one baffling Bermuda Triangle tale that is totally documented.

First, probably the most well known case, the one that initiated the notion of a haunted region of the Atlantic, was the disappearance of Flight 19, five Navy Avenger torpedo bombers that vanished on Dec. 5, 1945 while on a two-hour training mission. It’s a puzzling case because the lead pilot, who had 2,500 hours of flight time, could not locate the continental U.S. and seemed confused about his location after his compass started spinning on a sunny afternoon.

So here’s the synchronicity. In 1991, five Avenger bombers were discovered off the coast of Fort Lauderdale, all within a mile and a half of each other. Their discovery triggered the immediate assumption that the long lost Flight 19 finally had been discovered. But, astonishingly, none of the serial numbers matched. They were other lost Avengers. Hence, adding another layer to the mystery.

A personal note, Trish and I will be going to Andros Island in the Bahamas next month with pilot Bruce Gernon. Bruce and I co-authored THE FOG: A Never Before Published Theory of the Bermuda Triangle Phenomenon, and we’ll be interviewed on Andros by the History Channel for a new episode of UFO Hunter. – Rob

Posted in AUTEC, bermuda triangle, secret gov, travel | Leave a comment

Annette and the Sweat Shirt

Clusters of synchronicities can involve just about anything – even a new sweatshirt, as in the following story.

Ten years ago, our neighbor, Annette, was on her way home from the hospital, where her father had just undergone an amputation of his leg. It was chilly and she stopped to buy a sweatshirt. As she got back onto the interstate, she suddenly witnessed a horrendous car accident – a truck slammed into the rear of a smaller car, which flipped over several times and finally came to rest on its side. Annette pulled to the shoulder, leaped out of her car, and ran over to the car to see if she could help.

The middle-aged man inside was terribly injured but still conscious. Annette shouted at the crowd of gawkers, asking someone to call 911. Then she stayed with the man, talking to him, urging him to remain conscious, assuring him help was on the way. Two days later, she stopped by the hospital to visit him and he told her he would never forget her, that her voice and encouragement forced him to cling to consciousness.

Now, fast forward to 2009. Annette was on the interstate again with a friend and her kids. It was another chilly night and she stopped to buy a sweatshirt. As she did so, she flashed back on the last time she had bought a new sweatshirt while headed somewhere on the interstate. She felt a sort of superstition about it, but shrugged it off. Ten minutes later, an SUV raced past her, weaving all over the road. Annette suspected the driver was drunk and slowed down to put some distance between them.

Then, suddenly, just ahead, she saw the SUV slam into a smaller car. “The moment of impact was like an explosion. That’s how hard the SUV hit the other car.”

She swerved to the shoulder, scrambled out, and ran toward the accident scene, as she had ten years ago. Just like before, gawkers were clustered around and Annette, who had left her cell phone in the car, shouted for someone to call 911. She leaned into the car to see if she could help the driver, but he was unconscious, his legs bent at an awkward angle, his torso slumped over the steering wheel. She didn’t feel a pulse when she touched his wrist, but detected a faint pulse at his carotid.

“Stay with us,” she said. “Help is on the way. Just stay with us.”

But when the paramedics started removing the man from the car, she saw that his face was split open from his skull to his chin and knew he wouldn’t make it. “I told my husband about this, about how in both instances I had just bought a new sweatshirt and what did he think about that? He told me I was looking for meaning where there isn’t any. But I can tell you this. I will never again buy a new sweatshirt if I’m driving on the interstate.”

Despite her husband’s skepticism, Annette recognized the pattern and found it meaningful. Buying the sweatshirt didn’t create the accident, but ultimately it enhanced her awareness.

Posted in car accidents, travel | Tagged , | 5 Comments