Perfect Gift of Flowers

 

     Another timely gift from the universe ... last year chocolates, this year flowers.  A few days ago, while still on vacation, I was notified that I had won a gift certificate for a bouquet from a florist located in Lonsdale Quay.  I have won many, many prizes over the years but never flowers. Knowing that I would be stopping by the Quay on the anniversary of Michael's death to purchase our fajita dinner fixings, I decided I'd pick up the flowers as well, to add a burst of colour to our evening.

     So there I was, home from our holiday, admiring all the gorgeous bouquets this morning. Glancing over, I noticed the owner leaning on the counter of her small shop, reading the back of a postcard. I finally chose the bouquet shown above because of the vibrant yellows and oranges, as well as the fact that it included some light orange blossoms that looked airy and delicate, as if they were floating. When I approached her with it, she stopped reading and mentioned that she had just received a beautiful message. I could see that she was moved by it and glancing down, noticed the writer had included a hand drawn heart. I told her I was not in any hurry and suggested she read it aloud if she felt comfortable with that. She did and it was a loving note of gratitude from a young woman who had stopped in a few weeks earlier. The shopkeeper explained that the woman had wanted to purchase one rose.  She went on to say that she had wrapped it up, handed it to her and told her it would be a gift, no charge. The young woman expressed her gratitude and explained it was the six month anniversary of the death of her baby boy. 

     After listening to the story, I thanked her for sharing and then went on to explain how extremely grateful I was for this bouquet, especially today, because I was marking the anniversary of my son's death. She nodded, then pointed to the light orange blossoms and told me they were called Butterfly Ranunculus.  I had not mentioned my attraction to these flowers but somehow, she knew.  It wasn't lost on me that the analogy of a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly is often referenced in a eulogy. In fact, my long time friend who had written Mike's, included this - "We are like caterpillars who cry over the empty cocoon of their brother. Confused and afraid, they call out his name because they cannot see him in his new magnificence."  

     A short but deeply moving interaction in a tiny floral shop that lifted my spirits and provided me with another powerful hit of heartfelt connection to my community. Synchronicity at its finest. 

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Nourished in Nature

     A while back, on a cool and cloudy Sunday morning, my husband and I were wondering where to go for a good, long walk. I was thinking False Creek, an area we frequent regularly, when he threw out the idea of the 11 km loop trail around Burnaby Lake. It had been more that a year since we last explored that area, so off we went. 
     About 1/2 hour in on our nature walk, I mentioned to him that seeing a hummingbird nest is still high up on my wish list but that I had no idea how to find one. Even though we have numerous hummers visiting our backyard feeders daily, finding a nest has been fruitless. I continued thinking out loud that maybe I should contact a local Birding Association for some direction. Moments later, my husband said he had a Facebook friend Rob who is an avid birder and photographer, and that maybe he would be able to give me some direction. He told me that they had known each other in high school but were in different grades and not spent much time together. Then a few years ago, Rob had sent my husband a FB request which he accepted. 
     It seemed like this man might be a good resource so I filed the idea to contact him in the future. Then a few minutes later, I decided - Why not now? I asked my husband for his phone and messaged Rob explaining who I was and asking if he had any suggestions on how to find these elusive nests.
     About 45 minutes later, we were now on the other side of the lake when we passed a man and a woman walking together towards us. A few moments after we passed each other, my husband stopped in his tracks, turned around and walked back to where the couple had paused to take photos. He asked the man if his name was Rob. Oh yes, it was - the same Rob I had just messaged!  We explained who we were and mentioned the text message which he had not yet noticed. After a short visit during which Rob shared, among other things, some information with us about hummers and their nests, my husband and I carried on walking the loop trail, both gobsmacked by what we had just experienced. My husband could not get over, a) he had actually taken note of the couple as we passed ( he is generally daydreaming, not noticing much in the way of details), b) walked back to ask the man's name (his nature is to second guess himself, then dismiss a thought like this), and incredulous that he would recognize him. Turns out that Rob only posts his nature photos on FB, none of himself, not even in his profile picture.
     All of this unfolded on a day when I was deeply missing Michael. All morning, it had taken great resolve to keep the intense sadness from tipping into despair, the heartache only beginning to ease midway through our walk.  I am still searching for the tiny hummingbird nest but confident that I will have the joy of seeing one someday. In the meantime, I cherish this sustaining experience of electrifying synchronicity.
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Image courtesy of Brigitte Werner 

Observing the Signs

    

     After getting into my Volvo yesterday morning, I was buckling up just as Nat King Cole's voice came on over the CBC radio air waves and began singing "Smile".  The lyrics Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking immediately caught my attention since "Smile" was one of the three songs chosen to play during my son's memorial service. I had not heard it played over the radio since he died, and it had likely been years before that.   
     I was on my way to the BMW dealership just over the bridge. My husband and I would be picking up a brand new convertible to drive around in this long weekend. His was the highest bid for this Mike Gibson Memorial Golf tournament silent auction prize of a 3 day car rental. A longtime friend of Michael's had arranged for this donation through his place of work.
     I stopped at my husband's business en route and we then carried on to our destination in his car. After encountering the third yellow traffic light in a row (all unsynchronized), he commented on how strange it was that every traffic light was turning yellow just before we arrived at a controlled intersection, placing us in that questionable zone of whether to stop or drive on through.  I then told him about hearing the song "Smile" and soon made the connection that we were being cautioned to take it easy while driving around in that sporty car we were about to pick up. Close friend of Michael's, poignant song, and potential car accident - the synchronicity of these three signs was too obvious to miss.
      The yellow light phenomenon continued most of the way there. After picking up the rental car, we headed back along the highway, enjoying the ride with roof down and music playing, but observing the signs from the universe to take extra care on the roads this weekend in order to avoid a possible accident waiting to happen.
 www.diaryofanintuitive.com

Fun fact: When I began writing this post, the time happened to be 3:33, another reminder that angels are near.

No Ordinary Weekend

     









     A recent sunny Whistler weekend getaway was filled with incredible moments of synchronicity. The only pre-planned part of the trip was doing tarot readings at a mountaintop event, on the Friday evening. My husband and I had decided to make a weekend of it, booking in at the RV park. With so much to offer, the location supported an effortless flow between being active (biking the valley trail, hiking around Lost Lake, walking to the village) and enjoying restful pastimes (impromptu riverside picnic, brunch on a lakeside patio, Scrabble in the shade). 
     Saturday evening, during an after-dinner stroll through the village, I heard my name called and turned to see one of my cousins seated with someone on a nearby restaurant patio. He lives a few hours away, and we had not seen each other for three years. After a round of hugs and getting introduced to his girlfriend, we took them up on their offer to join them for a drink. We discovered that just minutes before we were spotted, a table had been freed up on the patio, and his girlfriend had requested they move out there, instead of remaining at their inside table. They had arrived at the resort earlier that evening and were leaving shortly after noon the next day. Small window of time to run into them. And as it turned out, Sunday morning our paths crossed again - while leaving the farmer's market, we bumped into them just as they were heading over to check it out. Another short conversation and more hugs.
     Sunday afternoon, my husband and I decided to wander down to one of several coffee shops in the area. Being the 7th of the month, I was feeling a little melancholy, with Michael in my thoughts even more than usual. It would be one of the very rare times when I would not be taking flowers to Boal Memorial on this date. My husband had been walking a few steps ahead of me and was waiting on a bench near the cafe. Sitting down beside, I was about to ask him what he'd like to order when I noticed a memorial plaque on the backrest, and reading the inscription, realized it was in honour of a young man who had lived in Whistler, and died just over a year ago, at age twenty-four. Through a mutual friend, I met his mother once, shortly after her son's death, and we had shared our experiences regarding the deaths of our sons, including reference to the metaphysical realm. What were the chances? Of all the seating available in Whistler, this was the ideal place for us to be on this day. 
     After coffee, it was time to head home. En route, we stopped in Squamish to purchase some bike accessories, and as I was leaving that particular aisle, I thought about our friends who live there, a couple we haven't seen for a few months due to his out-of-province work commitments. I fleetingly wondered what the chances were of running into them here in this big box store but promptly dismissed the notion since it was late Sunday afternoon and thought that if they had needed any items here, they would probably have done so earlier in the day. Then seconds later, as I turned the corner, there they were, smack dab in the middle of the store, and they ended up inviting us up to their place for a short visit. They too happen to live with the loss of a twenty-five year old son. Perfect timing.
     An astounding run of closely timed, out-of-the-blue experiences ... the Universe certainly does know how to make a great impression!
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Photo credit: www.whistler.com

Relative Signs

     This past week was filled with incredible synchronicity, revolving around the two themes of communication and family of origin. The family that I chose to be born into has not been without its challenges, as is the case with most, if not all, families. Family is where so much of our learning occurs, offering great opportunities for growth. The circumstances in my family of origin led to our current situation, where neither my brother (my only sibling) nor I have had any contact with my father for over six years (outside of my son's funeral), the consequence of heartbreaking communication. Our mother, with whom my brother and I were close, died nearly thirteen years ago. Numerous signs flooded in this week, dancing over, and around, all of this - unmistakably powerful and incredibly supportive. 

     Early in the week, I emailed birthday greetings to a paternal aunt who had been a huge part of my life, before cutting off all communication with me, without explanation, a year and a half ago. I think of her often. About an hour after sending that email, I received a phone call from an unknown number. The caller turned out to be a woman I had met once, seventeen years ago, at a birthday party I had hosted for this aunt. The woman explained that she had been an old friend of my aunt's for decades but had had no contact with her for many years now, having been cut off without any explanation. She thought of her often and was contacting me to find out how she was doing. Crazy circumstances, indeed.

     A few days later, I was following up after a call I had made the week before to my mother's only sibling, my maternal aunt in Germany. I wrote her a card, enclosing a photo of her sister's memorial bench, as well as a picture of my grandchildren. She is the only relative I have long-standing, albeit limited, contact with over there. Our communication consists primarily of an annual Christmas card to each other, but for some reason, I had felt the urge to call her.  Later this same day, with the envelope lying on my desk, still waiting to be mailed, I received a Facebook friend request from a woman in Germany, a daughter of one my father's friends, not connected to my maternal aunt at all. The last time I had had any contact with that person and her family was during our family vacation to that country, eighteen years ago. Curious timing, for sure.

     Then, on the weekend, I stopped in at the cemetery, an hour's drive from home, to place flowers on my mother's grave. I only visit a couple of times a year now, preferring to adorn her memorial bench located in my neighbourhood, instead.  The actual date of this particular visit had no significance - I just happened to be out that way for a dinner date with friends. A short time later, my brother texted me, wanting to confirm the date of our mother's birthday. I fleetingly thought he was joking since he always makes a point of acknowledging our family birthdays. When I asked him about it, he told me that he had been thinking about our mom and had momentarily forgotten when hers was. A brief memory lapse required in order for this loving connection to be made.

     Individually, each of these three days had great significance. Taken in its entirety, the week was over the top, and made a huge impression. A colleague of mine refers to these signs as Relative signs, since they relate to what is transpiring in ones life. The fact that the Relative signs happened to involve my relatives, is perfect. Feeling immensely supported by the visible and invisible, I continue to process it all.

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Staggering Synchronicity

What are the chances?  After our MGMG cheque presentation at Canuck Place Children's Hospice, their representative gifted my husband and me a copy of their recently created notebook.  As soon as I saw it, I could scarcely believe my eyes - the design and size of it is so similar to that of my book, anyone would think they are related!  Solid blue cover with die-cut heart of same size and placement, four word title, coil bound spine, wrapped in cello packaging.  Seconds after receiving it, I hastily excused myself, ran out to my car and grabbed a copy to show the woman.  None of us could believe the staggering synchronicity. Never having seen anything even close to this design before, I wondered if there could have been a link between my designer and theirs.  After looking into it, turns out, there is not.  Another magical thread connecting all involved even deeper.  Love it!

Love Birds

Admiring the two miniature bronze lovebirds perched upon the cabinet. Ones I presented to my husband on Valentine's Day last year. Contemplating the third tiny bird nestled in-between.  Resting upon a leaf.  Slightly smaller than the others but similar in style and colouring. Placed there last March.  Receiving this sympathy gift days after the accident.  A shopkeeper in our neighbourhood impulsively picking it up off a shelf.  Then handing it to a family friend to pass on to us. Unaware that there were already two birds awaiting it at home.  Such an exquisite moment of synchronicity. 

A Good Laugh

Ordering tickets by phone for an upcoming jazz performance. Supplying the receptionist with my credit card number.  She requesting the expiry date.  Reading out 12/12 to her, then immediately bursting into laughter.  Explaining my behaviour to this bewildered woman.  Noting my card will expire in December 2012.  Coinciding perfectly with the "end of the world".  Talk about synchronicity.  Not in agreement with that pessimistic prediction, but definitely appreciating the good laugh it prompted!