It seems that nearly every day, we experience oddball synchros. They aren’t game changers, aren’t particularly powerful or memorable except that they seem to say, Okay, you’re in the flow, keep moving.
For instance, tonight Rob and I and the dogs went to dinner at an Italian place we like because we can sit outside on the wide deck with Noah and Nika. Shortly after we’d sat down for a dinner for two, Rob dropped his phone and a Groupon popped up for a local restaurant that read: Dinner for two. I wanted to snap a photo of it, but Rob already had gone into the Groupon already, so I lost my proof!
Earlier today, Rob gave me a list of people whose stories we used in our spirit contact book that comes out this summer. The publisher wants permission slips from everyone whose stories we use, something we haven’t encountered until this year. I started emailing the individuals and the only person who answered was Dennie Gooding, a clairvoyant who lives in California, whom we haven’t spoken to in years.
In 2009, she was hired by a Palm Beach County cop to investigate a cold case that Rob and I had been involved with back in the mid 1980s. We wrote about the synchros concerning the Christie Luna case. Now, thanks to Dennie, there’s more info about that case that we’ll be posting soon.
Then the third oddball synchro. It involves cats. Since 2007, we’ve had an orange tabby cat, Simba. (picture at top of post). Our neighbors owned Copper, an orange tabby cat.
They were the same age. Same color. The difference between them was subtle: Simba has green eyes, Copper’s were amber. They often hung out together, getting high on the catnip I put out for them. I can’t say that Copper and Simba were best buds, but they sure enjoyed getting high together.
In late December 2016, Copper was hit by a car in our neighborhood and we buried him between our two houses and had a beautiful dusk ceremony for him. This evening, when I whistled for Simba to come in, I found him rolling around on Copper’s grave. Something he has done before. Why there? The front yard offers other ample opportunities for rolling around in grass. Is he drawn to Copper’s spirit? My sense – anthropomorphism and all – is that he misses Copper, misses those evenings on the front sidewalk, the two of them rolling around in mounds of catnip, purring with contentment, sharing a moment of feline camaraderie.
Sometimes, these oddball synchros lead to larger synchros. And sometimes they don’t and are simply woven into daily life, their message simple, pure: Hello, I’m here. Your ally, friend, cheerleader. Now let’s get on with the work. It’s almost as if synchronicity is just checking in, confirming its existence.