Swallows, Skydiving, and 2s



UPDATE: Megan corrected us. She said there were only 2 tandem jumpers.

On August 19, we moved Megan back to college on the other side of Florida. There’s a stretch of highway where there’s nothing but sugar cane fields covering land that once was part of the Everglades. Along this stretch, hundreds of swallows sweep across the terrain, nabbing insects on the fly, swooping across the two-lane road. They’re especially thick around dusk and seem oblivious to cars.

So on the way back, around dusk, we entered this stretch. The swallows swooped and dived (literally ‘sky-dived’), often winging away from our car at the last second. Then two of them, one after another, hit our windshield. At some deep level, I sensed it might be an omen.

On August 30, 11 days after we moved her back to college, we met her halfways across the state for her second skydive, for her 20th birthday. Her appointment was for 12:30, but they didn’t get airborne until around 2 PM. She was jumping tandem, with an instructor.

Are we seeing a pattern here? 2nd dive, 20th birthday, 2 swallows, a tandemn jump at 2 PM. The tandem jumpers leave the plane last and there were three of them. We were standing outside, watching the jumpers with four of Megan’s friends. And suddenly, something happened to Megan’s parachute. It seemed to just… well, fly away.

An instructor standing next to me said, “Wow, look at that.”

“What just happened?” I asked.

“The first chute failed. Don’t worry. They’ll freefall for a few seconds, then the second chute will open.”

And that’s exactly what happened. They landed safely and afterward Megan said she didn’t realize anything unusual had happened.

Later, another skydiver said it’s an unusual occurrence. It didn’t happen for him until his 1,200th dive.

So an event 11 days ago (there’s another 2!) related to Megan’s skydive. An unnerving synchronicity.

Today, 8/31, is her actual birthday! So happy birthday, Megger!

Posted in 2s, birds, birds as messengers, Megan, Numbers, skydiving, sports | 21 Comments

A Murder of Crows

On August 28 in West Palm Beach, an 18-year-old man awaited the verdict on the crimes with which he was charged – 14 felonies that included burglary, kidnapping, five counts of sexual battery with great force, and the savage act of forcing a mother and son into sexual acts together. He was one of ten youths involved in the ruthless assault and gang rape against the 37-year-old woman and her 12-year-old son, a crime that shocked the community for its brutality. Moments before the verdict was read, a murder of black crows hovered outside the windows of the courtroom, filling the gray sky.

The reckoning came with the crows. Nathan Walker and another defendant was convicted of 11 felonies and now faces life in prison. More trials in the case are coming.
+++
The phrase, “murder of crows,” may have originated from a fallacious folk tale that crows form tribunals to judge and punish the bad behavior of a member of the flock. If the verdict goes against the defendant, that bird is killed – murdered – by the flock. The basis in fact is probably that crows sometimes will kill a dying crow who doesn’t belong in their territory or much more commonly feed on carcasses of dead crows. Crows are associated with battlefields, medieval hospitals, execution sites and cemeteries.
+++

Throughout history, birds have served as synchronistic symbols that reflect events. So we weren’t surprised when we opened the newspaper one morning and read about how a flock of vultures are nesting on the roof of a home where the mayor of West Palm Beach resides. The city and county governments in recent years have wallowed in corruption and several city and county commissioners have gone to prison. The corruption has been so extensive that the FBI set up a permanent office in West Palm Beach investigating government corruption. While the mayor has not been implicated, the FBI says that more indictments are coming.

Clearly, from the mayor’s point of view, it appears that vultures are waiting to attack their next target. Vultures eat carrion, and interestingly, every indicted elected official has immediately pleaded guilty–knowing that the FBI has the goods on them, and they are dead meat, so to speak. Recently, one opponent of the mayor wrapped her home in toilet paper. But the perpetrator got the wrong house. The mayor’s luck continues…so far.

Posted in birds as messengers, crimes, crows, vultures | 18 Comments

The tattoo and the dress


Here’s an interesting synchronicity from Stacey Warner.

***

On the 4th of July, I had an experience of incredible visual synchronicity and I was able to capture it. At the time, I was happily in the throes of a new relationship but because of previous obligations we weren’t able to spend the holiday together. Not only were we not together, we had not spoken the day before, which was rare for us. Needless to say, he was on my mind and I was missing him in the most delectable way.

Mid afternoon, my friend Fancy invited me over to hang out before going over to a BBQ. When I arrived she was in her bedroom changing. I sat down on the bed and chatted with her as she rummaged through her drawers looking for an under garment to wear under the sheer dress she wore. Her search was unsuccessful so she decided to change. She pulled out a printed green dress and asked for my opinion. I gave her the thumbs up. She slipped it on and walked by. It was then that I noticed the print on her dress was very similar to the tattoo the man I’d been dating had on his shoulder. I was flabbergasted. Of all the dresses in the world, and of all the tattoos in the world, the similarity was uncanny. I immediately took a picture as proof. It was unbelievable synchronicity.

Later that night, at about 9 pm, I was sitting on my friend’s roof surrounded by loved ones and waiting for the fireworks to start. I suddenly missed him deeply. It was overwhelming and quite unexpected, as if my heart had been hit by something. Perhaps it had. Later that evening when he called, he told me he had missed me. I asked him if there was a time when he felt it most and he said around 9 pm. Perhaps it was our exchange of energy or maybe it was the timing of the fireworks, like New Year’s Eve when the ball is about to drop and you want to be around the one who means the most to you. I don’t know.

Did this bit of synchronicity mean I was on the right path, that all signs were pointed in the right direction and I live a soulful life? Perhaps. But life is always changing and we can hold to nothing. Nothing stays the same and we must have faith that wherever we are it’s where we’re meant to be and our lives are unfolding for our greatest good.

True bliss is always to be found in the now and so is the magic.

Posted in images, relationships, tattoos | 9 Comments

The Ebony Elephant

This story is told by Jungian analyst Daryl Sharp, author of Jungian Psychology Unplugged: My Life as an Elephant, and is a good example of finding one’s power animal, following its trail, and calling on it for assistance when needed.
***
On a dreary afternoon in the fall of 1974 I was walking in the hills of Zurich, feeling bleak and very sorry for myself, when I spied an object on the path. I stooped down and picked it up. It was a little black elephant made of ebony. It was numinous to me, a magical thing. On the spot, I fell in love.

I took it to be a case of what Jung calls synchronicity, where an outer event coincides with what is going on inside. I assumed it had something to do with my psychology and I spent the next few years exploring what that might be. [. . .] I painted pictures of elephants and my dreams were full of them.

Now I have a pretty good idea of what elephants have to do with me and why I found that first one. I was thirty-eight years old at the time. I had burned my bridges and I was on my knees. I had gone to Switzerland to begin training at the C. G. Jung Institute of Zurich. A lot has happened to me since, but much of it has to do, metaphorically, with elephants.

Posted in animals, elephants | 21 Comments

Just When You Need It

This story needs a little background. During the mid-1980s, Rob and I led trips to the Peruvian Amazon for travel writers. One of the writers who joined us for the 350 mile trip from Leticia, Colombia to Iquitos, Peru, was Gary Provost. He was a frequent contributor to Writers’ Digest, a book reviewer, and author who had an amazing gift for taking what is essentially a right-brain process – fiction writing – and breaking it down in a left-brain way so that he could teach the craft to others. He and his wife Gail, founded the Writers’ Retreat Workshop to pass on that wisdom to aspiring writers.
+++

Gary and Gail started the Writers’ Retreat Workshop in 1987. It’s a ten-day intensive workshop for fiction writers. The idea is immersion -classes geared specifically to the craft of fiction writing taught by the staff, with visiting authors, editors, and agents who teach and lecture as well. Gary passed away suddenly in 1994, but the retreat continued.

Fast forward to 1998. Gail had remarried and she and her husband, Lance, were struggling to continue the retreats. “Enrollment had dropped, we no longer had a location for the retreat, we didn’t have a budget for advertising,” Gail says. “It was a real low point. The future of the retreat looked pretty bleak.” But they kept reaching out, hoping, following leads, trying different fund-raising venues.

Upon returning from a depressing fund-raising trip, Gail felt like she had reached a low point. “I remember walking in the door of our house that Saturday morning, feeling frustrated and defeated,” Gail says. “I was ready to just give up the whole thing. Then I went into my office and found more than a hundred messages on the answering machine, all from people who wanted to know where they could sign up for the retreat. It turned out that the day before, USA Today had run a travel story on ten educational vacations and the Writers Retreat Workshop was mentioned.”

She and Lance began returning phone calls, signing up students, found a location for the right price, and started hiring staff. To this day, Gail isn’t sure how USA Today found out about the retreat. But the break arrived just when they needed it.

Today, the WRW draws students from all over the world and many of the aspiring writers who have gone through the course have been published.

I just returned from the 37th WRW, my third time there as a guest speaker, and I was delighted to find that the spirit with which Gary and Gail started the retreat is flourishing. The 22 students, an overflow from a retreat in May, ranged in age from a 20-year-old college student to retirees. They arrived with their laptops and manuscripts, their dreams and dedication to honing their craft. They came from all over the U.S., and from the Virgin Islands, Luxembourg, Malaysia, and India.

Several years ago, Gail turned the retreat over to another writer, but she still attends as a guest staff member. After a talk I gave on synchronicity my second day there, she said, “Trish, did I ever tell you how synchronicity is why the WRW still exists?” And then she told me this story.

Posted in law of attraction, writers | 9 Comments

Will It Come in Threes Again?



Ted Kennedy died yesterday, August 25, and when we read about it this morning, we wondered if there would be two more. Less than 24 hours later, writer Dominic Dunne passed away at the age of 83.

On November 22, 1963, JFK was assassinated. And authors Aldous Huxley and C.S. Lewis also passed away.

It would be nice if death didn’t come in threes this time.

Posted in avoiding death, celebrities, politicians, writers | 20 Comments

Graveyard Garden


I mentioned in a comment yesterday to Gypsy Woman’s post that I’d never seen a ghost. On second thought, Trish and I had a ghost/spirit experience four years ago, but it involved sound and energy, rather than a visual encounter.

The incident took place while we were staying at a beachfront hotel in the Dominican Republic. The hotel consisted of three buildings forming three sides of a square with a ‘garden’ in the middle. When we arrived, we found that the so-called garden was actually a fenced-in graveyard. So our second-floor porch looked out onto the nearby graveyard and the ocean beyond it.

We assumed it was an historical graveyard. But one day, the gate was open so Trish and I walked in. We’d barely gone ten feet when we noticed a grave marker indicating the man had been buried four months earlier. He apparently was a windsurfer, because his gravestone was the top half of a windsurfing board, and his epitaph said: ‘Where ever the Wind Blows will be there.’

We were puzzling over this grave that was about 30 feet from our room when an old man approached us with a shovel. He was digging a grave and was excited because he’d come upon a coffin from an earlier graveyard below this one. He said the sand keeps rising so graves are one on top of another. He wanted to show us the grave, but we’d seen enough.

As we were about to leave, for some reason I picked up a smooth stone from the graveyard and took it with me. By this time, Megan, who was 15, was demanding we move somewhere away from the graveyard. So we took a three-room apartment in one of the other buildings with a front porch facing the ocean. Ironically, the entry and side porch had an even better view of the graveyard.

On our last night, we went to bed about 11 p.m. About half an hour later, I came awake to the sound of loud pounding that seemed to shake the building. It went: BAM-BAM-BAM…BAM-BAM-BAM. Three strikes, like a wrecking ball hitting the wall, a pause, three more strikes. After several repetitions, Trish and I simultaneously sat up in bed, and the sound instantly stopped. It wasn’t frightening. If anything, it felt energizing, life-affirming.

We’d both heard it. It was no dream. Then we heard voices from inside the apartment. I got up and found the television on, even though it was off when we went to bed, and Megan was still asleep in the back bedroom. (She didn’t hear the pounding.)

In the morning, I took the smooth stone and dropped it over the fence into the graveyard. We were the only ones staying in the building, so there was no one to ask about the pounding sound. But, as we checked out, we told the manager what happened.

He looked confused, then said that ‘the spirits here are all friendly..muy simpatico.’ Oddly enough, neither one of us had been frightened. Actually, I had felt quite energized, as if I’d experienced expanded awareness and contact across dimensions. But then I didn’t see any ghost standing next to the bed, either.
Rob

Posted in dominican republic, ghosts, graveyards | 16 Comments

The Girl in the Yellow Dress

Ghost stories aren’t necessarily synchronicities, but here’s one courtesy of Gypsy Woman that ends with a startling synchronicity. Jenean, it seems, lives with her feet firmly planted in two different worlds!
+++
For many years, I lived in my little 1926 bungalow that was surrounded by beautiful pecan trees. Before I bought the house, I used to drive past it every day en route to work and I couldn’t help but slow down and admire its quaint charm. The house was vacant and since I had such an affinity for it, I tracked down its owner and told him I wanted to buy the house. I sent my initial proposal by mail, and in it I outlined all the things I envisioned for it. Based upon that letter, he sold me the property in which he had raised his family.

When I moved in, I immediately began restoration of the main floor. At the center of the house was a square island which housed a large closet and the stairwell. The closet door opened into a rectangular hallway which led to the other rooms. The closet door was directly opposite the door of the master bedroom – or in my case, the ‘mistress bedroom.’

During this time, my daughter, Cindy, and her two small children lived with me. On one particular night, the children were in their beds and my daughter and I decided to watch television from my big bed. Apparently, we both fell asleep watching a movie. Suddenly, I was awakened by a bright light and saw my daughter standing at my hallway closet with the door open and the light on.

Her back was to me and her long hair was down. She was wearing a yellow dress that I’d never seen. I was startled to see her there and asked her what she was looking for. Then I asked where she had gotten that dress. It had a very fitted waist, a ruffle around the shoulders and a full length skirt with a sash tied in the back.

I called her name several times and she didn’t answer. But she continued to stand there at the closet with her back to me. Then, my daughter spoke. “Mom, what’s the matter?”

I snapped my head around and realized that she was still on the bed beside me. I quickly looked back to the closet, but the girl in the yellow dress was gone and the closet light was off, and the door shut. Cindy and I talked often about that night, and later laughed about it, but it remained very real to me. My sister later moved in with me and over time, other spooky incidents occurred to us and visitors.

Several years later, I decided to renovate the upstairs of the house. I called in a contractor and the work crew began by piling all the previous owner’s leftover stuff along side the curb for pick-up. One day, my sister and I had prepared lunch for the crew and we were all sitting around my dining room table when we started talking about all the things that they’d pulled out of the attic.

That was when my sister said, “Oh, so has Jenean told you the story about the girl in the long dress?”

The foreman responded, “Was it a yellow dress with a big shirt and a big sash?” He went on to describe the ruffles on the shoulders and other details I had seen on the girl at my closet. He said he’d pulled it out of the eaves in the side of the attic wall. He added that it was outside at the bottom of the junk pile.

We didn’t attempt to retrieve the dress, but I knew it was the same one. I never saw the girl again, but I’ve wondered about her often. I researched court records and discovered that the home had been originally built by two women who both came from old prominent Shreveport families.

Posted in child, ghosts, Jenean, yellow dress | 17 Comments

Passport, please


While getting our daughter set up in college for the year earlier last week, we stopped at an outdoor club in Sarasota one night to listen to some music. The outing, it turned out, elicited a couple of synchronicities.

The tables were full, so we went to a high-top and shared it with a couple who seemed to be enjoying their raspberry martinis as much as their new relationship. The man turned out to be a recently retired navy commander, and to our surprise he’d spent his last few years commanding the highly secretive naval base, known as AUTEC, on Andros Island.

Since Trish and I had some involvement on Andros earlier this year related to AUTEC and Trish is working on a proposal for a novel that involves an island base very much like AUTEC, we had lots of questions for him. He was friendly and surprisingly open, but denied the existence of any sort of UFO-related activity on the base. But he readily said there were mysterious things taking place in the area related to electromagnetic anomalies. He wouldn’t go into details, but said if there was UFO activity, it wasn’t related to any secret project. He did, however, say that the Chinese were very interested in activities on the base, and have established their largest embassy in Nassau, forty miles away.

After awhile, when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say any more about AUTEC, I ended up talking to him about travels in South America, and while doing so, I remembered a very strange synchronicity that happened during one of my trips. I’d just flown into Miami after returning from an extended trip that had taken me from Mexico through Central America to Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia. I decided to visit a friend in Key West before heading north to Minneapolis to see my parents. The plane ticket, though, seemed way to expensive so I decided to rent a car. En route, I was stopped at a police barricade near Key Largo. I thought it somewhat ironic because for months I’d been dealing with authorities and borders as I moved from one country to another, and here I was in the U.S. and the same thing was happening.

But I was surprised by what happened next. An officer approached the car, looked at me, and without a single question asked to see my passport. That was remarkable for a couple of reasons. First, it was the only time I’ve ever been asked in this country for my passport (at least outside of airports). The other amazing thing was that my passport was readily available in my pocket. I casually pulled it out, as if it was an every day request, and handed it to him. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem a bit surprised when he saw it was an American passport. He studied the various stamps, conferred with another officer, then handed it back, and waved me on.

That was a case of like attracting like. Even though I was in my home country, I was still attracting the same energy. Passport, please. Synchronicity. When I related that story to the former AUTEC commander, he smiled, leaned across the table, and said: “So do you think they were looking for aliens?”
Rob

Posted in AUTEC, passports, travel | 9 Comments

Four of a kind

I came across these two synchronicities about names on a previously mentioned site called System Glitch. https://www.systemglitch.ca/synchro.html
It’s difficult to verify whether they’re true stories or not, but oddly enough the sub-title of the web site reads: In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.
***

In 1985, a man named John Stott was involved in a serious car crash. The accident was witnessed by a passerby named Bernard Stott, was investigated by police officer Tina Stott, and administered by desk sergeant Walter Stott. The four individuals were not related.

In 1920, three English men, who did not know each other, were sitting in the same booth aboard a train traveling through Peru. When they began to converse with each other, they were all surprised when one man introduced himself as “Bingham”, the second as “Powell”, and the third as “Bingham-Powell”.
***
How many Binghams were traveling around Peru in 1920? The previous year, Hiram Bingham discovered the famed Incan ruin of Macchu Picchu. That makes at least four.

Posted in clusters, names, travel | 4 Comments