Sychronicity

Synchronicity is a marvelous thing. It reminds me that the universe has got my back. It reinforces my resolve. I have had a lot as of late. It helps to be reading books by a favorite author, dream worker extraordinaire, Robert Moss, who calls it re-incidence, not a real word, but one that works.

My latest had to do with a harp. Stay with me on this!

Last Saturday started with a bang, and not a good one. My sister and I got into it over several texts about family history of which we strongly disagree. Emphasis on strongly and disagree.

I love my sister, so this was hard. I found myself sulking after my morning run, breakfast, and dream work/creativity routine. I headed to the local rose garden.

Oakland has a beautiful rose garden about 5 minutes from where I live. I found a spot on top, platform-like in the shape of a half circle. It was the only place on high that had any shade, and I sat my bottom down on the cement with my book, Robert Moss’ “Sidewalk Oracles”, my journal, and drinking bottle of limed water.

After a few hours I remembered that I had scheduled a phone call with my friend, Mark, at 3 pm. He called, and we engaged in dialogue around my difficulties with my sister.

It’s enough to say that my biggest childhood wounds have gone unacknowledged by my family. I had thought my sister was ready to hear my side. She let me know in texts, in no uncertain terms, that this was not the case. I got angry, and we texted back and forth, until she wrote, “I’m done!” I followed that with something smug, and, well, you know the result.

In talking with Mark I realized that my sister had done me a favor. She showed me, again, how my family treated this issue growing up. I was the youngest. As a child I knew that I could not talk about it. It wouldn’t be heard. I was screwed unless I found a way to live with that truth, which, at the time, meant repression.

As a therapist I know this is what kids do. They can only acknowledge what the adults around them are willing to talk about. Everything else is thrown behind them into the shadow.

Sitting there in Oakland’s beautiful rose garden talking with my friend, I felt the weight of this thought, “If I tried hard enough, things would change, and I would be accepted.” What was I thinking?

As I realized my insanity, blood rushed into my hands and toes, releasing energy that I had held.

I said, “Mark … this is amazing! I feel solid, embodied and present, more than ever. It feels great sitting here and talking to you about it!”

Right then, a beautiful, young woman in a long black dress hauled her harp up the stairs to my platform. I looked at her and the harp, and I said, “And Mark … You’re not going to believe this, but a harp has appeared less than 10 feet from me!” That got a laugh.

That harp, 9 feet tall, gold with painted flowers said, “Chris, it’s about time! Only 50 or so years! Merry Christmas!”

Synchronicity is the Universe’s high five, sometimes two by four. It’s subjective. Although I’ve tried, it can’t be explained. It’s a precious moment when I know that I am connected to something big, bigger than everything. And it makes my life a hell of a lot more fun!

 

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