A couple more examples from my travel journal of how life rhymes:
Seattle, Tuesday March 3
I get a call from a reporter on the Vancouver Sun. She wants to know what put me on my path as a dream teacher, for which there is no career track in our culture. I am wondering how much to say to her about the dreams and visions of an ancient Mohawk Indian woman healer that came to me when I was living on a farm 22 years ago and contributed to a major watershed in my life. Holding the phone, I glance out my hotel window across Queen Anne Avenue. On the sidewalk right below me ins a wannabe Mohawk with a fierce ridge of dyed orange hair bristling agains his shaved skull. This is not an altogether exotic sight in this borderland between the old-established Queen Anne neighborhood and the raunchy Belltown district of Seattle, but it seems to be speaking to me in that moment.
The reporter has moved on. Now she is asking for an example of how I derive messages from coincidences. I tell her about the wannabe Mohawk and how his "come-and-get-me" haircut reminds me of experiences that ripped me out of my ordinary life, obliged me to embark on deep study of indigenous dreaming practices, and changed my sense of what mattered in a way that made me change my life radically.
To avoid complicating things I did not mention that the name "Queen Anne" in itself had huge resonance for me, since one of the first and most powerful scenes I completed in my historical fiction involving the Mohawks describes the visit of four Indian "kings" - three of them Mohawk - to visit Queen Anne in England in 1710.
Vancouver B.C., Friday March 6
I fly from Portland to Vancouver for an interview with a popular radio host prior to my evening talk at the Vancouver Public Library. The radio host, normally quick as a whip. is having an off-moment. She introduces me as "Dr. Moses." I respond, "I'm flattered that you think I can lead people to the Promised Land."
On the way to the library later that afternoon, I check my BlackBerry. I find a message from a friend in New York City: "I'm thinking of you because I'm trying a new Australian wine. It's called Promised Land."
What fun Robert! I should mention that the same day you shared that Moses story at your recent Vancouver workshop I came upon several stacks of James Twyman's newly released The Moses Code at a local bookstore. Satisfied with the synchronicity I saw no need to purchase the book. I already own a copy of the OTHER Moses Code :-).
ReplyDeleteDear Mr. Moss,
ReplyDeleteI love those coincidents stories. And sometimes I experience them too. But: I don´t understand what they want to tell me.
How funny: just as I thinking about how to formulate my next sentence (because I´m german and and have to translate everything), I get an e-mail which give me the answer to my question above right away.
I have to tell you first, that I have a two digit number, which I choose to guide me as a sign that I´m on the right track and I notice this number very often. I think many people have this kind of number watching, so far nothing special.
The e-mail I just got is one of those "you just won a trillion dollar" spam mail. But the subject line says: "Confirm your Prize lucky number" and is followed by "my" two digit number.
So, as far as I understand, I just got a confirmation that my number really is my "lucky" number.(I doubted recently and thought I´m only nuts, that all it is)
And I just got coincidently an answer what a coincidence can mean.
I enjoy reading your blog and I wish you all the best.
Queen Anne's Lace is 1 of my favorite wildflowers, looking like a grandmother's doily of tiny delicate blossoms, each white, with the exception of a single deep purple flower in the very center. I always stop on walks to gently pry the doily open to admire the center flower, so easy to miss, with a child's delight at seeing what is hidden in plain sight. Sort of reminds me of the dreamworld...
ReplyDeleteNancy
At times it's nearly impossible to miss life's rhymes. Watching Oprah yesterday, two of her featured guests had raised a lion cub for the first year of his life. It was a touching story. After the show, I head out in my car and see that the license plate of the car beside me reads "CUB". Fun, fun, fun . . .
ReplyDelete