Here’s the healing circle for our blogging friend, Mike Perry. Light your candles at noon wherever you live. We posted this shortly after midnight EDT on 9/19, so the time in England should be sometime after 6 AM on that date. Mike said he’s due at the hospital at 7:30 AM. He wasn’t sure when the surgery would be. So I hope this powerful image of a circle of healing light will be with him and his wife, Karin, throughout his surgery and afterward. Both of them are in the center of the circle.
Mike’s photo with post about his absence
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Let’s use our power as a group to focus on our blogging friend, Mike Perry.
Mike has a fantastic blog on synchronicity and every other anomaly you can name. I think we found his blog early in 2009, the year we started our blog, but I’m not sure. At some point we started trading emails. We used some of Mike’s synchro stories in both of our books.
He and his German born wife, Karin, live in Cornwall and some of my favorite posts on Mike’s blog are about his area, about the mysterious places and history of certain landmarks. I also love Mike’s posts on his foreign travels, which seem to be jammed with synchros. When he travels, he disconnects from the Internet entirely, something I can’t bring myself to do, but maintains his blog with daily posts.
I check Mike’s blog every morning. It’s my first stop, with my first sip of coffee. So in August, I went on one morning and didn’t find a new post. When it happened the next day, I wrote to Daz, who I knew corresponded with Mike. In the past, whenever Mike was going to head out with Karin on one of their adventures, he would drop us an email and let us know he was going to be out of town. But Daz, like me, hadn’t heard anything from Mike.
I felt uneasy. I like Mike. Never met the guy, but there’s a camaraderie you develop with blogging buddies that is difficult to explain. When that connection exists, it’s as if you’re sitting across the table from the person, trading synchro stories.
On August 14, Mike posted that he had missed 3 days of posts because he had been diagnosed with kidney cancer. He’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow, September 19, for the removal of his right kidney.
So how about if, at our respective noons tomorrow, we light a candle for Mike’s speedy recovery? Say a few words, murmur a prayer, do whatever it is that you do within the context of your own beliefs. Envision him healed, emerging from the surgery easily, and back to his life quickly!
A few weeks ago, Mathmajick had a series of dreams that involve a synchronicity with a story about a young hero. Her dream and the post involved the name Noah and a TV series on TNT called Falling Skies, which stars Noah Wyle playing the character of Tom Mason, the father of three sons and a former history professor before the aliens invaded the planet and killed a whole bunch of people. Spielberg is the executive producer of the series.
Rob and I were surprised we hadn’t heard about the series. Then again, there are so many TV series and movies related to UFOs/aliens, it’s hard to keep up. At any rate, when our daughter was visiting, we rented the premiere from Amazon for $1.99 and streamed it through one of the laptops. Then we went to Netflix. We’ve now watched five episodes, and the fifth one is the most powerful to date.
This story is strong on family ties, that’s the human side. These aliens, after all, abduct children and put harnesses on their spines, bio-gizmos that resemble large crustaceans. These harnesses somehow control the children, turn them into zombie-like beings who are at the complete mercy of the aliens. A special surgery is required to remove these harnesses from children and it isn’t always successful. Once the harnesses are surgically removed from the children’s spines, the kids are creepy. You don’t know if they’ve been freed or if they are still under alien control or if they’re suffering from PTSD.
Sometimes, the human side of this story collapses into soap opera country; you can tell the writers are trying too hard to make these characters people with whom we can identify. We get it with dad and his three sons, okay?
In terms of the aliens themselves, this series is the polar opposite of ET. These aliens are…grotesque. First, there are huge robotic creatures that make a lot of noise as they patrol the area. They are armed with lasers. Then there are the Skitters, the aliens themselves, reptilian creatures with six legs that resemble walking octopi. They communicate through radio waves and who, according to the Falling Skies website, super-intelligent, tactical. So far, I haven’t seen any evidence of that intelligence.
What are their special powers? Rob asked as we talked about the fourth episode. Are they telepathic? Telekinetic? Well, no. But the harnesses they put on children apparently cure whatever ails them, so this in itself suggests intelligence, right? But he has a point. The one alien who is captured is placed in a wire cage that doesn’t look strong enough to hold rats.
One of the most intriguing characters is a female pediatrician, Anne Glass, played by Moon Bloodgood. With a real name like that, you know she’s unusual. Like the character Noah Wyle plays, she lost a son during the invasion. But her back story promises to be a game changer.
Some of the intricacies of the plot and characters weren’t apparent to me until I clicked around TNT’s blog on the series. Certain things aren’t adequately explained – like why the humans are using a school as their headquarters while the Skitters (aliens) are in a hospital just across town? If I were among these survivors, I would urge my community to get as far from these aliens as possible. Of course, then there wouldn’t be a story, right?
Skitters apparently sleep like bats – hanging upside down – have soft palates which, when damaged, instantly affects their brain stems and renders them unconsciousness. By the time you learn this, you really don’t care about the flaws in the story. Thanks to the strong acting, the post-apocalyptic theme, the aliens, as ugly and horrid as they are, there’s enough here to keep my interest through the first season.
We’ve seen and read these stories before – V, Flashforward, I, Robot, Soylent Green, 1984, The Giver, Logan’s Run, Blade Runner, Day After Tomorrow, Childhood’s End, The Handmaid’s Tale – but now they are their own genre – dystopian. In fact, that’s the genre assigned to J.J. Abrahms new TV series, Revolution. This dystopian tag may be due, in part, to the success of Cormac McCarthy’s brilliant and depressing Pulitzer prize novel, The Road, and to Suzanne Collins’ enormously successful trilogy The Hunger Games.Both became movies and seemed to set trends in storytelling.
I recently finished a young adult novel called Delirious, set in a world where love is forbidden and where everyone undergoes a surgery at the age of 18 – a rite of passage – that nullifies emotions. What fun, huh?
And yet, these types of stories can be enormously powerful. The storyline always goes like this: a mass event changes our reality, and people are forced to adapt in order to survive. Human flaws and strengths are revealed. Heroes, rebels, rogues, prophets, pagans, and bad guys emerge. We become vested in the characters, identify with them, and imagine, What if.
What if thousands of alien spaceships appear in our skies tomorrow? What if the Arctic melts completely and the oceans rise a hundred feet next week? What if democracy in the Western world collapses, what if the nuclear meltdown of Fukushima happens worldwide? What if the poles abruptly shift? How will we react? Perhaps the real value in these dystopian visions lies in the horror they trigger in each of us and through that inner terror, we reject such a future and become more committed to creating a peaceful, integrated world, an Indra’s net.
I suspect that if the writers on Falling Skies are left alone, if the committee decisions cease, this series could become a classic that would prompt us to make better, more humane choices in these precarious times.
Recently, while moving about the Internet, I came upon a long list of Beatle tunes. Apparently, I could play anyone of them. So as I moved down the list, I didn’t want to hear any of those early songs from the first couple of albums. I slowed when I reached the Rubber Soul album. It’s one of my favorites, but so was Magical Mystery Tour. For some reason, I paused when I reached Fool on the Hill.
I never knew quite what to make of that McCartney song. I would pick Lennon’s Strawberry Fields Forever over it any day. Are we supposed to feel sorry for the fool? Are we each the fool on the hill at some point? Fortunately, there are no hills in South Florida. But then I don’t need a hill to act foolish.
In the book Yesterday, author Alistair Taylor reports a mysterious incident involving a man who inexplicably appeared near him and McCartney during a walk on Primrose Hill and then disappeared again. Soon after, McCartney and Taylor had conversed about the existence of God, and that, Taylor suggests, prompted Paul to write the song.
Ah, so God is the fool on the hill? Hmm, maybe Paul was writing about Alistair.
In the end, I didn’t click on the song, didn’t play any of them. But then early the next morning, as I was driving to the airport, what comes on the radio but…Fool on the Hill. Of course, synchro, I thought.
But synchronicities should be ‘meaningful’ coincidences. So how was it meaningful? I didn’t know. I’d just spent a week in the North Country visiting my mother–a quiet respite–and was soon subjected once again to the news of the world and politics, and I couldn’t get that song out of my head. When I heard that the U.S. Congress was heading once again toward a disastrous fight over the budget after the election, it occurred to me that Congress is called The Hill. It seems there are many fools on that hill.
However, that didn’t feel right. And the song kept playing in my head. I noticed that I heard it when the presidential race came to mind. So maybe I’d narrowed it two people, the candidates. But which one?
For me, that was a no-brainer. There’s much I could say to argue my choice. But I’ll avoid turning a Beatle song into a political diatribe, and let you make your own pick. But, if for some reason, you can’t figure it out, well, there’s always Bush.
We couldn’t resist. Here’s Henri the cat, again, en route to the vet.
Darbster’s is the name of a little vegan restaurant that we first heard about at the dog park. Strangely enough, hearing about it there is fitting; it’s named after the owners’ dog and all dogs are welcome.
We first went there a month ago, for lunch, and sat on the outside deck that overlooked a canal. Naturally, we took Noah, our golden retriever. Our table was the only one without an umbrella and it was uncomfortably hot. We decided our next visit would be in the evening, when it would be cooler.
So this evening we head over there with Noah and all the tables on the outside deck were taken. I went into the covered area to ask a waitress if we could bring Noah inside.“Of course! Dogs are welcome anywhere in the restaurant!”
As I return to the porch to tell Rob, I’m surprised to see him talking to our old friend, Bess De Farber, who lives five hours north of us. She’s with her new partner, Glen, and the two are here for relaxation and fun for Labor Day weekend. The four of us head inside for dinner together. Here’s where the synchros started happening.
Our only other time at this restaurant, which isn’t near our house, we ran into a woman who had taken Rob’s last meditation class, and hadn’t seen her since. We met Bess years ago when she attended Rob’s yoga classes. So, for such a tiny restaurant, which seats less than 50 and is a thirty-minute drive from our house, what are the odds that we would run into someone we know both times we’ve been to this place?
Bess’s daughter, Cassandra, was one of Megan’s teachers in high school, attended the same college that Megan did – New College, in Sarasota. It turns out that Glen’s son, Morgan, also attended New College. The school only has about 800 students and is considered the honor college in Florida’s public university system. Again what are the odds?
While we’re sitting there over dinner, talking about the synchronicity of our kids having attended New College, Bess suddenly mentions a jam she found called Robert Is Here. Rob and I look at each other, both of us thinking the same thing: is she referring to the Robert Is Here story in 7 Secrets of Synchronicity?
This story was one of the first we posted on our blog in February 2009. The gist of it is that we were staying at my agent’s home in the keys and two friends had joined us – both of them named Robert: Robert from Minneapolis, whom we call Rabbit and Robert from Stuart, whom we call Tacayo. Rob opened the fridge to look for some jelly for our English muffins – and found a jar of jam called, Robert Is Here. Well, yes, universe. There were three Roberts.
It turns out that Bess is interested in reading our synchro book, but hasn’t had a chance yet. So she wasn’t referring to anything in the book. She had found the jam somewhere and was using it in creative ways with vegan recipes.
She also told us how the jam got it’s name. When Robert was young, his parents who owned a fruit and vegetable farm in Homestead, Florida sent the boy out to the corner with a box of fruit. He stayed for a few hours, but no one stopped. So the next day his mother decided to make him a sign. Oddly enough, instead of fruit for sale, it read: Robert is Here. Eventually, that became the name of Robert’s own fruit and veggie stand, and the brand name on his home-made jelly.
So, it looks as if Darbster’s is some sort of synchro magnet and the food is fantastic, the prices reasonable. I think we’ll be returning soon!
Jenean sent us the following synchro. It’s tragic, heroic, unbearably sad, and illustrates how synchronicity speaks to us during times of major transitions.
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This past Saturday night/early Sunday morning (September 1-2), my teenaged grandson, Dylan [Cindy’s youngest child] was at a friend’s house and several of the kids there decided to go over to the apartment of another friend who was having a birthday party. So Dylan rode over with a friend named Noah.
When they got to the apartment, where 7-8 other friends had gathered, too. Dylan and Noah decided to make a snack run to Walmart just a couple of blocks away. Upon returning to the apartment, they walked into a dark apartment, with their friends all laying face down on the kitchen floor, being robbed by two masked gunmen. They were told that if they moved they would be killed.
Apparently Dylan and Noah made it only just inside the door when Noah decided to slip down the hallway to the bedroom and retrieve a gun that he knew was there. Just as he retrieved the gun, he was confronted by one of the gunman. A fight ensued and Noah was shot in the head.
The gunmen then left with a couple of electronics and whatever money they got from the kids there. Noah lived just long enough to be able to donate his organs, as he had always wished to do. A police investigation is underway but so far the gunmen have not been apprehended.
Now, a couple of things about this story, the first of which is Noah’s name. Noah is the biblical character who built an ark so that others might live. Our Noah gave his life so that others might live. Not only did he save 7-8 of his friends, , but according to the doctors, with his organ donations, he gave life and/or a better life to about 40 others altogether.
Noah, rightfully so, is being hailed as a hero by many. Interestingly, in mythology, “Dylan” was a legionary Welsh hero.
Secondly, what would the story ending have been had Dylan and Noah not made a snack run at that precise time. They would have been put in the kitchen with the others and there would have been no escape route in which to retrieve the gun.
Next, the gun that Noah got was a gun that he had recently bought and had taken over to this friend’s apartment to show him a few days previously. For whatever reason, he hadn’t taken it home with him, therefore it was still there that fateful night.
When Cindy left the police department [after the survivors were all interviewed] downtown, she happened to stop at a convenience store for a cold drink – a store that she had never been to before and that wasn’t near her home or office. She heard the cashiers say something about someone having been “shot in the head.”
They were discussing the man who had just left the store as Cindy arrived who said his son had just been shot in the head. It was Noah’s father. So Noah’s father and Dylan’s mother crossed paths that night, each unaware of the other.
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Stories like this prompt me to believe that nothing is random. Dig deeply enough and you’ll find a strange order and organization to events.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=aAmegwUdJdA
Eleven years ago today, our daughter was just twelve, in the sixth grade. In those days, the deal was that Rob, the early riser, took her to school and I, the night owl and later riser, picked her up. He’d done his part, I was getting ready to settle in for a little work before hitting the gym, and the phone rang. It was Phyllis Vega, friend and co-author for Power Tarot, telling me to turn on the television: a 747 had just hit the World Trade Center.
Within 15 minutes, I was en route to Megan’s school and Rob and I had spoken to our siblings, parents, neighbors, everyone we cared about. We believed the country was under attack.
This event, 9-11, defined the U.S. of the 21st century. It brought about an unprecedented expansion in government – Homeland Security and the TSA, organizations about which we actually don’t know much, but which employ millions. Given how incompetent the Bush administration was, it’s amazing how quickly these organizations snapped into being, fully staffed, defined, in place – almost like it was planned well beforehand.
This is the event you can blame when you must remove your silly shoes at the airport, when your expensive shampoo is confiscated because it’s more than 3.5 ounces, when perverts can frisk you without reprisal. This is when the U.S. became Orwell’s vision of the future, 1984, but a lot later in real time.
Let’s be real clear about this event. It happened under Bush’s watch – not Obama’s – and even though there was intel that pointed to it, Bush chose to head to his Texas ranch to cut weeds or whatever. All flights were grounded. There wasn’t a single flight anywhere in the U.S. skies for three days – except for a special flight that ushered some Saudi princes out of the country. You’ll find those details in the documentary Loose Change, an updated version of the original film.
9-11 triggered two new wars – Iraq and Afghanistan – awarded new powers to the president, gave us Gitmo, made torture legal, and probably ultimately ushered Obama into office. It’s when everything about democracy changed. It’s when we became a people who could no longer recognize what we have become.
The World Trade Center disaster was a major mass event – and not just for Americans. Millions watched the tragedy unfold on television as it was happening, and for weeks and months afterward, it dominated worldwide media coverage. In the aftermath of the attack, thousands of personal synchronicities were recorded about the events. But even more pertinent, this event reverberated through time.
Back in the early 1990s, Vicki D lived in the suburbs of Philadelphia and attended a day-long spiritual retreated with author and past-life regressionist Carol Bowman. During a guided meditation into the future, Vicki saw the twin towers on fire and crumbling to the ground. She had no idea when this would happen, but felt certain she wouldn’t be there when it happened. For years, she tried to figure out the timing and asked every psychic she knew. But none of them had any inkling of anything like this.
In 1997, she and her husband moved to Long Island and Vicki really began to worry about what she’d seen in Carol’s workshop. But once again, her guides continued to reassure her she would be fine. Her husband was employed in the oil business and his traders worked in the World Trade Center. He had a meeting in the WTC on the 11th and he and Vicki were supposed to have dinner that evening in the Windows on the World restaurant atop the World Trade Center. But Vicki, who has a fear of heights, felt uneasy about it.
Then, a week before 9-11, her husband told her his meeting had been moved to the 12th. “If the original meeting hadn’t been changed, my husband would have been there.”
Mathmajick had some dramatic planetary empath symptoms that we’ve written about before. My apologies to Math – I can’t find those entries now, so I hope you’ll include them here.
The dramatic impact of the WTC disaster became a natural target for a scientific study aimed at monitoring what author and physician Dean Radin calls the ‘global mind.’ The Global Consciousness Project, based at Princeton University and co-sponsored by the Institute of Noetic Sciences, is an Internet-based experiment started by Princeton’s Dr. Roger Nelson. Since 1998, it has been monitoring the movements of this global mind. Radin, writing in the May 2003 issue of Ions Noetic Sciences Review, described the project as “an ocean of individual minds…that explores the mind-matter relationship” by using a random number generator – RNG.
Today’s network consists of 70 sites worldwide that generate random numbers. Once a minute, these numbers are downloaded and analyzed to find out how consistent they are. As explained at Conscious Project Dot website: “The theory is that the Global Consciousness of all the people of the world affect these random numbers…”
Radin noted that the events of 9-11 provided a tragic but edifying test for the project, due to the nature of the events and the heightened 24/7 media coverage. On 9-11, 37 of the random number generators were active. The fluctuations in the bell curve analysis indicated that anomalies began two hours before the first plane hit the WTC, odds of 20 to 1, Radin noted. The results that day were the fifteenth largest out of nearly 1,400 days. “That means that on that fateful day, the GCP’s ‘bells’ collectively rang out around the world with an unusually pure tone.”
So what, exactly, is this global mind? It’s the combined consciousness of every soul on the planet. “Consciousness has a creative, productive, generative role in the world such that what we wish for is more likely to be than if we hadn’t wished for it,” Nelson wrote. “What we envision together will manifest in the world in a subtle way.” Nelson, the project’s innovator, believes there’s a higher level of consciousness, that we’re participating in it already, and that it might already be self-aware.
The GCP website runs real-time data analysis of the project that, at one time, could be viewed by anyone with a colored coded dot. But back in 2011, the dot was discontinued (lack of funding, a service deemed unnecessary?) The purpose of the GCP dot was that it illustrated in real time how the global consciousness impacted these random numbers. About twelve hours before the quake, tsunami and nuclear meltdown in Japan, in March 2011, the GCP dot turned a deep, cheery red. According to the website, red “suggests broadly shared coherence of thought and emotion” and a significant deviation from the norm. In other words, the global consciousness was tuned in to what was about to happen in Japan.
Could it be that these empaths are the human equivalent of the random number generators that register deviations in patterns in the global mind? Do they represent the emergence of a new creative ability that will ultimately enable us to fine tune our technology? Are they, in a sense, an interface between humanity and technology?
If you have experienced any of these symptoms, we would love to hear from you. Get in touch with us through our website: www.synchrosecrets.com or through our blog, blog.synchrosecrets.com.
The other day, I was working on the planetary empath chapter for Aliens in the Backyard, and was reading through our past posts on this phenomenon.
Planetary empaths experience physical symptoms that mirror an approaching natural or manmade disaster, like 9-11. The 9-11 part of this is why we’re posting this today, a day early, even though this particular post doesn’t focus on man-made disasters.
A pounding migraine, for instance, may be connected to an impending earthquake. An unbearable pressure in the head may be connected to an impending volcanic eruption.
I believe that the precognitive ability to sense natural disasters in this way is tied somehow to encounters, sightings, and the abductee phenomenon, where many of these people are shown catastrophic scenes of Earth’s future. That said, these kinds of experiences aren’t necessarily a criteria for being a planetary empath. The actual criteria is straightforward: an open mind, a profound need to know, and a deep and abiding intuition.
Even though we have more reports from women right now, the ability isn’t gender specific. The disparity may be that men don’t talk about this stuff among their peers whereas women are accustomed to doing so. Women are natural gossips and generally tend to talk about feelings and experiences more readily than men do. Perhaps, for men, the empathic part occurs more readily through the mind, the intellect, the conscious recognition of a synchronistic event.
On February 22, 2011, a 6.3 quake struck New Zealand. Some of the empaths had sent us emails a day or two before the quake about physical symptoms they were experiencing. On the day of the quake, when we put up the post about it – February 22, 2011, Daz from Brisbane Australia left a comment on our blog that may be the perfect explanation of how male empaths experience a planetary event – not through physical symptoms, not through their bodies, but through the voice of synchronicity.
Daz’s life is “haunted” by certain numbers clusters – 23, 11:11 (overwhelmingly so, he writes), 222, and 911. So on the day of the quake, he was on his way to work and glanced at his watch and saw: 11:11. He knew it meant a significant event was about to happen. “But it wasn’t the 11:11 that spooked me, it was today’s date towards the bottom of my watch face: 22/2 (February 22). That date will be as notorious as 911 to many New Zealanders, for years to come.”
As we find ourselves in a time of increased weather weirdness and more natural disasters, this uncomfortable and often debilitating precognitive ability may be an emerging talent. As it’s honed and developed, perhaps the empaths themselves will learn how to interpret their physical symptoms and the synchronicities so they can tell what kind of event is coming, how destructive it will be, and where it will occur.
Perhaps these empaths are going to be our 21st century shamans, each with a piece of the puzzle. Like the Hopi shamans, they may be ushering us into the next world. Or perhaps they’ll be like the precogs in the movie Minority Report. Hopefully, it won’t come to that, bald precogs floating in liquid, seized up with their visions, lacking any independent life, human rights, or anything else.
Then again, a more extreme version of this talent could be exactly that, but in a more positive way – a government somewhere that calls upon these planetary empaths to predict where and when an event will occur, how bad it will be, and all the other details needed for an evacuation. The problem with such a scenario, of course, is that the first time it doesn’t pan out, the whole thing will tank – negative media, funding pulled, symptoms and synchronicity dismissed as invalid.
Even the National Hurricane predictions about the paths that hurricanes will take three to five days out isn’t a hundred percent accurate. And those predictions are based on technology and science – satellites, the history of storms, meteorological information. Can you imagine the fury if a predictive system based on intuition and synchronicity proved to be wrong?
But as Hurricane Katrina approached New Orleans, meteorologist Max Mayfield,then a forecaster with NOAH, warned the administration that the aging levees around the city might be a catastrophic problem. His admonitions were ignored. So even if planetary empaths develop their abilities to the point where they can offer specific predictions, there’s no guarantee anyone in authority will listen.
Here’s a list of the natural disasters worldwide from January 1 – September 8, 2012. Click on the specific countries. This list doesn’t include record ice melt in the Arctic, the rising seas, the tragic beaching of whales, dolphins, and birds falling from the sky. It doesn’t include tipping point events (politics, finances) or human disasters, like mass shootings. But just in this list, there’s plenty to ponder. It forces me to question how our collective consciousness impacts a particular area, city, country.
Why, for instance, was the Republican convention haunted by Tropical Storm Isaac to the point where the convention was delayed for a day? Why did that storm reach the New Orleans area during the convention, 7 years to the day that Katrina, the lowest point in the Bush presidency, had struck? What kind of underlying order is this, anyway? And it isn’t happening just with politics. Pick a neighborhood, a village, a town, a city, an area, a country that is in the throes of monumental change and strife, and chances are you will discover a natural or man-made upheaval.
I’m not sure what planetary empaths are or how far their ability will evolve. But one thing seems fairly certain: the Buffalo Springfield nailed it. That song in the video above was written by Stephen Still, released as a single in January 1967 – 45 years ago – and is rated #63 by Rolling Stone in the list of the 500 greatest songs ever recorded.
I’ve notice when I put up something on Facebook about cats (as the photo above), I get a big response. Politics? Not so much.
So how many people do you think would turn out for an outdoor international internet cat video event? The Walker Art Center in Minneapolis recently found out. Astonishingly, 10,000 people showed up!
Here’s one of the shorts that was shown.
