I am in Seattle, wake
up early and decide to take a morning stroll around the Pike Place Market. I
notice that the produce stalls are bursting with fresh fruit; the peaches look
especially ripe and juicy. I consider buying some fruit, but do not want to
carry it back to the hotel. However, as I leave the market, I have second
thoughts. I just have to sample some of those peaches. I choose Sosio’s stall,
where a sign above the mounds of fruit reads “Oh My God Peaches”. I joke with
the vendor that the sign should actually read “Oh My Goddess”.
I
now exit the market a couple of minutes later than I would have done had I not
gone back for the peaches.
As
I walk along the street, a VW bug slows to match my pace. A woman’s arm reaches
out the driver’s window and plucks at my sleeve. “Oh my God! Robert!” she cries,
“You got me pregnant five months ago! We have to talk!”
I
am so stunned I don’t immediately recognize the woman in the car. She reminds
me, as we move slowly along the street together, that she came to a workshop I
led in Seattle five months before. At the time, she and her husband
were trying to have a baby through in vitro fertilization. She reminds me that
I helped her to journey to meet the soul of the incoming child, and to develop
a ritual to add spiritual depth to the medical procedures. She tells me she
feels that our work helped. Though she is 45 and her doctors had anticipated
difficulties, there have been none; she and her baby are happily on their way.
She
is on her way to the market and asks if she can take me for coffee or breakfast
to celebrate. She has a sudden craving for clams, and it requires some
negotiation to get them at a restaurant at this early hour. As I watch her
sucking down her clams, she tells me, “It’s incredible meeting you here. I came
for the peaches. Sosio’s in the market is the best place in the world for
peaches.”
“I
know,” I smiled, displaying my bag from Sosio’s stand. “You came for the
peaches and I came back for them.”
She
then told me that she was going to buy two dozen Oh My God Peaches to make peach
pies for a very special picnic – a picnic in a cemetery. She and several of her
friends had lost close family in a tragic Alaskan Airlines crash a few years
before. The survivors had agreed to hold a picnic, as well as a memorial
service, to celebrate the dead and the living. As we spoke, I felt the presence
of her parents. Her father wanted her to bury a personal item at his gravesite;
I received the clear impression of a corkscrew with a twisty wooden handle. I
might have felt awkward about passing on the message if synchronicity had not
opened our path. She identified the corkscrew immediately; it was a fine one
with a vine root handle, one of many her father had collected. Since most his
body had vanished underwater, it felt right to lay something more of him in the
earth on the occasion of the peachy picnic.
Everything
that happened around the market that morning was charged with meaning. From the
moment I bought the Oh My God peaches, I seemed to have stepped out of ordinary
time, into a deeper, juicier reality. The mother-to-be and I met because of the
peaches, yet I took my walk with no thought of buying any kind of fruit, and
the odds on our meeting in that way, with that connection, are beyond
astronomical. There were important reasons for us to meet, involving birth and
death.
But I was
unaware of these at the time of our meeting, and had not thought of the
mother-to-be since the workshop five months before, while on her side – though
she had apparently had fond thoughts of me – she had no inkling that I was
visiting her city that morning. Whatever brought us together was operating from
far beyond the conscious mind, or any plausible notion of probability. As we
enjoyed the shared sense that we had entered the play of larger forces, it
seemed entirely natural that her parents should join the party – from the other
side of death – to announce their wishes for the peachy picnic before it took
place.
What is
to be said about an episode like this? The first words that come to me
are “Thank you.” The mother-to-be and I both felt blessed to
have entered a realm of natural magic, where things operate according to dream
logic, and the veil between the worlds thins. I
carry my drum - the one I use to power shamanic journeys in my workshops - in a
bag from Sosio's fruit stand.
Text adapted from The Three "Only" Things: Tapping the Power of Dreams, Coincidence and Imagination by Robert Moss. Published by New World Library.
Wow l love ❤️ how life shows us it works for us thank Robert
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