Adventures in Synchronicity: With God holding my hand

I fully believe God is always sending us signs, nudging us toward the path we’re meant to walk. They don’t always make sense, and you don't always see them right away. They’re not logical. You can’t explain them with science. But they show up anyway. And when they do, you either shrug them off… which is what I think we are most wired to do (because spiritual matters are looked down on in our society)... or you start paying attention.

German Psychologist Carl Jung came up with the word synchronicity in 1930. Basically, when two things happen that don’t seem connected happen, and they hit deep and feel meaningful... that's synchronicity.* You’ve probably heard people talk about “signs” or certain numbers showing up—like 11:11. Most of the time, it’s just coincidence. But once in a while, something bigger is at work... 

1111 can be synchronistic if it is attached to something meaningful. For example, you and a loved one text each other when you see the number 1111 to be cute. Then at some time in the near future you get news that your friend died at 11:11 in a car accident. That's extreme, but the two incidents are unrelated and they have deep meaning. Here's a site that explains one of Jung's experiences.

I started paying attention last July. 

I was getting back in touch with my spiritual side and felt a strong urge to give someone a copy of The Alchemist. Never done that before, but I didn’t question it. I went to the bookstore down the street, bought a copy, and gave it to my friend. For some reason, I just followed the nudge.

Then in September, I crashed. Depression hit. My therapist told me to start my 12 steps over—and this time, actually do them. She was right. I’d been going through the motions. So I recommitted. Meetings, therapy, service work, and spiritual retreats. Somewhere in all of that, The Alchemist came back around, and I started rereading it.

That’s when things got weird—in a good way. Synchronicities started popping up everywhere. Signs. Omens. Whatever you want to call them. And every time, I felt more and more like God was saying, keep going, you're on the right path.

I looked up the book and found out that The Alchemist was inspired by the Camino de Santiago—a spiritual pilgrimage in Spain. Looking back, I see the nudges:

• In September, I went on a retreat called Cursillo, a retreat based off the actual Camino.
• I began rereading the History of Christianity - the last paragraph of the first chapter was about the Camino. 

• 

  Postcard from my swag bag

  In December, I cleaned out my retreat bag (finally), and one of the swag items was a postcard from Santiago de Compostela.
• That week, Paulo Coelho released a new book tied to The Alchemist. 
• Just this week, a young man I know who lives where I work was reading it.  
• The Prophet—another important book in my life—showed up on a free shelf with a bookmark on a chapter about love.
• I opened up Instagram this morning and the first photo was from Paulo Coelho promoting a book called The Supreme Gift, which is a book about loving abundantly,

That’s not coincidence. That’s God. It's all synchronicity. 

God has been trying to get my attention.

We live in the physical world, but there’s a spiritual one moving right alongside it. Sometimes they touch.  God tends to whisper instead of shout. But the signs are there. It’s not about figuring everything out. It’s about letting ourselves be present and open enough to notice when the Lord is leading us—and then having the courage to follow.

I don’t need other people to validate what I know now. My spirit knows. God is doing something in me. I’m just trying to stay open and follow where God's leading. I'm going on Camino in October... it keeps popping up, so I know it's worth the risk. I'm worth the risk.

*Jung, Carl (1973) [1960]. Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle. Bolligen Series. Vol. 8. Translated by R. F. C. Hull. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press.

Adventures in Synchronicity: Seeing the Signs

There are three entries I have decided not to share that lead up to this one. They are too raw.  The last entry you may have read ended with, and then I met him. This next portion takes place 13 years after that. 

On December 24, 2022, our relationship ended the way it began, over copious amounts of alcohol. Instead of a passionate romantic flurry, it ended in tumult, with him begging me to come back. It was over; I had some things to work on in my life. I hadn't made any next steps in our relationship for two years; I was too scared. 

On Tuesday, January 3, 2023 I hadn't had a drink in 4 days and made my way to my first meeting during my lunch break. I looked around for signs and didn't see one, so I figured the meeting had been cancelled. Nervous. Instead of seeking assistance, I left. As I walked to my car, my heart pounded in my chest. The voice in my head, "you've gone four days, you can do this. You don't need this." 

The next day, during my lunch break, I decided to go back. The room was packed. I raised my hand. 

On January 4, I recommenced the spiritual journey I had embarked on almost 15 years prior in the Sahara Desert, in Egypt. 

I didn't know it at the time, of course. I entered the room full of arrogance. 

I knew I was smarter than every person in that room. I had two goals for getting sober: 1. to "be healthy" (read, lose weight) and 2. to be better at my job. During those first shares, no one else mentioned their goals - they told their stories of how bad their disease had become. I inwardly laughed that I wasn't as bad off; I was already ahead of the game. If I was going to win it, then I needed to get moving... Sponsor, steps 1, 2, 3 check, check, check.  

Then the fourth step... I moseyed. It didn't matter, though. In my head I had the solution to my alcoholism, a distraction. My new friend; charming, engaging, funny. The alcohol that usually numbed my feelings was replaced with someone to distract me from the emotions I didn't want to face. Honestly, at that time I wasn't even aware that I had been repressing my emotions for so long. 

On July 4, our friendship took a turn. I liked him, as in like liked, my friend.  Between us existed a strange bond that I couldn't figure out. Something spiritual was happening, and I couldn't put my finger on it. 

The signs began showing up the next day. Synchronicities. Nudges. Echoes of something deeper.

I am by nature an extrovert, I love people, I love being around people... but I'm also a quiet person. I'm not shy, my vocal chords emit a soft voice. It's difficult to insert myself in a group of loud extroverts I don't know. 

The next day, I shared with my group that I had gone to a party with my friend and hung out with people I didn't know. I admitted I should not have gone because I was uncomfortable speaking to people I didn't know without my security blanket, alcohol. I was transported back to 16-year-old me, who was awkward and felt like an outsider everywhere. I was safe. I wasn’t scared, just... misplaced. I didn't want to be her again—the girl who needed alcohol to feel like she belonged.

I still went to meetings, but my step work slowed and finally stopped. I stopped seeing my therapist. I had it under control; everything was going great! I could handle this friendship and not take it further than where we were. 

For the first time in years my spirituality was manifesting again.  

This time, I had a willing companion, not just random people who stumble across my blog (I am grateful for all my readers, just fyi). We opened our hearts. The energy of the Spirit moved between us, gently and powerfully. Letting God in after years of disconnection is irresistible. The Spirit floods in—and it needs somewhere to go.

But when we’re not ready to be fully transformed, ego steps in to protect us. We misread the flood as a threat. And rather than surrender, we fall back on old defenses. For me, that looked like attachment. Like clinging. Like spiritual codependency disguised as divine connection.

Our egos whisper that regression is safer than growth. And we believe them.

We begin to idolize the person in front of us, not realizing the gift was never about them—it was always about God. But we get stuck. The moment stops evolving. The sacred spiral halts.

It's no coincidence I stopped doing the work. God needed me to fall into the depths of what appeared to be a bottomless abyss. I believe God allows us all to make our own decisions. The next right thing is always available to us, but sometimes, we decide not to heed the signs.

God gave me a sign, the synchronicity, the omen. I verbalized it, "I feel like I'm at a high school party." 

I was there again, at the precipice of what led me down the path of substance dependency, the path of hopelessness and powerlessness. This time I chose the path that led me to the depths of darkness and self-discovery but this time with only God holding my hand. 

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog-cast for some Alan Watts, Richard Rohr & Sacred Worth

This one isn't about the synchronicity. I have three different posts I'm working on, some won't be shared, and I'm trying to figure out how to share them and protect people at the same time. While I don't say names here, somebody might read it and know what I'm talking about. Today, I have three things swirling in my head and I need to get them out. 

A few months ago I ran across this quote on Instagram from Alan Watts, 

"Irrevocable commitment to any religion is not only intellectual suicide; it is positive unfaith because it closes the mind to any new vision of the world. Faith is, above all, openness - an act of trust in the unknown." Alan Watts

Something told me to save this quote. Perhaps it was an omen from the Universe that it would come in handy for such a time as this.

Holding on too tightly to our doctrines and dogmas can stagnate our growth, spiritually, and really emotionally and physically. 

In 2019 my denomination gathered for a special general conference to discuss whether or not we should fully include members of the LGBTQia community into the full ministry of our churches.

Here's the full verbiage:

We affirm that all persons are individuals of sacred worth, created in the image of God. All persons need the ministry of the Church in their struggles for human fulfillment, as well as the spiritual and emotional care of a fellowship that enables reconciling relationships with God, with others, and with self. The United Methodist Church does not condone the practice of homosexuality and considers this practice incompatible with Christian teaching.

So, in one sentence it says, ALL have sacred worth, but in the next... except for "practicing" homosexuals. This insinuates that sexuality is a choice. I've known my fair share of people in the community and while I'm not a scientist, I think it's safe to say it's not a choice. 

Those few days of debate in St. Louis were awful. I tuned into Twitter and poured over every publication that came out of it. I had what I considered "affectedness" disorder. I worked myself into a tizzy over things I could not control. I became an anxious presence; I cried for my sisters and brothers who were once again told they didn't belong. My way of coping was at my go-to bar at noon during those days. I was carrying the weight of the nations on my shoulders. The burden of the pain weighed heavy on me. Instead of doing what I could do in my context, I complained and spread general negativity and anxiousness. 

The "book" says it like this,"...we made our own misery. God didn't do it." Amid my disease I believed I was obligated to take on this misery and I must be affected. Some might argue, but if you didn't do all those things, nobody would know you care. I can care and advocate without making myself and everyone around me miserable. The book continues, "avoid then the deliberate manufacture of misery, but if trouble comes, cheerfully capitalize it as an opportunity to demonstrate God's omnipotence."

Now that my brain is no longer imprisoned in a fog I can see that I can make a bigger difference by doing what I can do in my context. I can follow the rule of love and that's what I chose to do this time. I am in groups with people who also suffer from "affectedness," who called out other members of the group for not being affected. This time...I removed myself from the conversation and focused on what I can do right now, in my place in the world, to share love. 

The disease of affectedness is intellectual suicide. I could not see past my faith's rule book to see the greater movement of God in the world. My eyes were closed to what was possible and therefore my actions unfaithful. We have a tendency to let the power of the institution blind us from the possibilities God provides us. We leave our spirituality up to entities that "know better." We doubt our spiritual intuition and are afraid to step into a place of unknowing because it's frightening. 

Father Richard Rohr, in what I consider one of his most powerful meditations, says this, 

Much of organized religion, without meaning to, has actually discouraged us from taking the mystical path by telling us almost exclusively to trust outer authority, Scripture, various kinds of experts, or tradition (what I call the “containers”), instead of telling us the value and importance of inner experience itself (which is the “content”). In fact, most of us were strongly warned against ever trusting ourselves. Roman Catholics were told to trust the church hierarchy implicitly, while mainline Protestants were often warned that inner experience was dangerous, unscriptural, or even unnecessary.

Both were ways of discouraging actual experience of God and often created passive (and passive aggressive) people and, more sadly, a lot of people who concluded there was no God to be experienced. We were taught to mistrust our own souls—and thus the Holy Spirit!

We are taught to mistrust our souls - wow! That is a powerful statement. And if we mistrust our souls, then we invariably mistrust God. And why? Because what Watts says, faith in trusting is something we cannot see. It's trusting in the unknown. 

These past two weeks I'd like to think I have trusted in God. I didn't let my past experience fog my thinking. I didn't let my own prejudices and fears stop me from doing my work, the work that probably impacts people more than it does when I'm sitting at a bar fretting over things I cannot control. I think a lot of this comes from my own trust that God is going to provide as I step out into the unknown; into the new job I start in a few weeks. 

The unknown, trusting in God, is very frightening, but if we don't navigate through it, what happens? We remain stuck, anchored to fears of the past and fixed to the uncertainty of the future, which in turn creates misery. 

Misery keeps us stunted, never allowing us to move forward into the present.