What If…in Television


I remember the days when American TV programming was pretty bad. Thirty minute sitcoms with canned laughter. Thirty-minute cop shows with big plot flaws. Shows like Rin-Tin-Tin and Lassie, Flipper, The Naked City, Highway Patrol, The Donna Reed Show, Marcus Welby, M.D., Leave It to Beaver, The Twilight Zone, One Step Beyond, I Love Lucy.

Some of these shows were good – Lucy was genuinely, hysterically funny at times. And Lucille Ball was always such a treat to watch. Twilight Zone and One Step Beyond were my personal favorites. I watched these shows and all the others in Spanish. I don’t recall the Spanish translation for Twilight Zone, but One Step Beyond was called Un Paso al Mas Alla. We were living in Venezuela at the time and compared to Venezuelan TV, these American dubbed shows were a delight and a conduit to the place we traveled to every summer, our other home, the U.S.

On Sundays nights, I remember, TV was a family thing. We used to have grilled cheese sandwiches and some other side dish and gather where the TV was and watch Twilight Zone or One Step Beyond. Or was it Tales of the South Pacific that we watched? This is where memory becomes tricky terrain. I think it might have been Tales,  based on the Pulitzer-Prize winning book by James Michener. But it could have been Twilight Zone. My interests certainly would be more with Zone that with Pacific, although I recall that’s Gardner McKay starred in this series and it stirred my hunger for foreign travel.

But other than Zone or Beyond, there just weren’t that many shows that sparked your imagination, that introduced new ideas, new what if scenarios. Then in the Sixties, when I was in college, Star Trek became the equivalent of Zone and Beyond. We zipped around the universe on the Enterprise with Kirk and Spock and got to play with the ideas that were introduced.

From 1993-2002, we had The X-Files, where Mulder and Scully were FBI agents who investigated sightings, possible abductions, all the high strangeness of the encounter and UFO phenomena. Since then, we’ve had The 4400, about that number of people who vanished and then returned. We’ve had V, Under the Dome, 137, The Medium, Lost… shows that have pushed the envelope in terms of ideas, shows that prompt us to ask What if?

Last week, we watched the first episode of an HBO series called The Leftovers. It’s about what happens to the people left behind when two percent of the world’s population – now more than 7 billion – vanishes.

Very soon now, CBS will air its first episode of Extant, a Spielberg production for CBS – starring Halle Berry. It’s about a female astronaut who lived for 13 months solo on the space station but – uh-oh -  returns home pregnant.

The second season of Under the Dome, based on Stephen King’s book by the same name, focuses more closely on  how people in a small American town are impacted when a transparent dome slams down over their community, cutting them off from the rest of the world. It’s Lord of the Flies on steroids.

The point is that television as entertainment has morphed into TV as a cultural vehicle that prompts us to ask ourselves important questions. What do we really know about the nature of reality? Who are we in the greater scheme of things? Is our reality malleable, subject to change according to our beliefs about what is possible?

Hey, are we living in The Matrix?


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Dean Radin’s Big Synchro

I’ve read several of Dean Radin’s books on parapsychology, and especially enjoyed his most recent offering: SUPERNORMAL: Science, Yoga, ad the Evidence for Extraordinary Psychic Abilities as I mentioned in an earlier post. This last one is more accessible and entertaining (except for hard-core skeptics) with far less detailed explanations of experiments. In other words, more on meditation and less on meta-analysis of data.

However, I was a bit disappointed that Radin failed to mention synchronicity once in Supernormal, and I wondered if he didn’t find any deeper meaning in coincidences. It was particularly surprising because he even writes about UFOs—a topic usually seen as outside of psychic research—and discusses their possible link to the paranormal…or rather the supernormal.

So I was intrigued when Lauren Raine sent this You Tube video of Radin talking about synchronicity. She forwarded it from her friend, Fahrusha’s blog. In it, Radin carries on at length about a synchronicity he experienced, and he did so for good reason. It’s quite a mind-blowing tale. Take a look and see for yourself.


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Quantum Glasses?


Sometimes when I travel, there aren’t any stunning synchros, nothing that hits me in the forehead and screams, Pay attention. Instead, there’s a wonderful flow of energy that builds day to day, then hour to hour.  That energy demands that I put into practice what I’ve read, what I know. It says, Okay, make it practical! That’s how our recent trip to Minnesota was.

Rob was born and grew up in Minneapolis. His mother still lives in the house where he grew up, his sister lives a few miles away, and friends from different periods in his life still live in the city or nearby. In other words, bits of his personal history are scattered across this diverse, vibrant landscape.

In this general neighborhood where he grew up, there are a lot of parks and wilderness preserves. Just a few blocks from Rob’s mother’s house is Golden Valley Park, a forested area where Rob used to hike when he was a kid. During our walk through the forest, we came upon bushes of wild raspberries, not quite ripe enough yet to pluck, and saw a variety of wildlife. Hawks, chipmunks, woodpeckers. Usually, Rob said, there are deer, but not this time. Instead, there were an abundance of wildflowers you just don’t find in Florida.

And there’s a fantastic railroad track you could actually walk along.

On our way back up a steep hill from a pond, Rob was ahead of me and was pushing branches out of the way so I could get through. One of those branches snapped back in my face. “Hey, that hit me in the eyes!” I yelped.


And I suddenly realized the world had gone blurry, that when the branch had snapped back, it had knocked off my glasses. I’m nearsighted. Without my glasses, the world thirty to forty feet in front of me is a haze of shapes. I hadn’t packed a spare pair of glasses.  My mind instantly slammed into panic mode and coughed up all the worst possible scenarios- that I would spend the rest of the trip in a blurred haze.

As we got down on our hands and knees and patted our way through the underbrush, looking for my glasses, I balked at the fact that I had overlooked packing an extra pair. I’m the kind of traveler who makes packing lists weeks ahead of a trip. I refine and expand my list. I pack and unpack my bag, eliminating this, adding that. By the time I finally leave, I usually have everything I might need in that bag. But I hadn’t planned for this contingency.

We thought the branch might have knocked my glasses off into the underbrush,  so we moved into that denser foliage, patting the ground, overturning branches, rocks.  It was late afternoon and I worried that if we didn’t find my glasses before the sun went down, we would be back here the next morning, wasting precious vacation time. At one point, Rob stood up, removed his glasses, pulled the branch back and let it hit his glasses to see where they would fall. The trail.  “Your glasses have to be here on the trail somewhere,” he said.

More searching. Fifteen or twenty minutes passed. Shadows grew longer. My irritation and panic mounted. I finally rocked back on my heels. “If Dispenza’s right,” I said, referring to Joe Dispenza’s books,  “then my glasses are like Schrodinger’s cat. They are both lost and not lost. We have to collapse the wave of probability and bring it into physical reality and find the glasses.”

It sounds great in the abstract, like some sort of head trip, an activity you do during meditation. But I was seriously doubting a discovery. The foliage on this path was dense. The light was waning. The mosquitoes were out and about. I was hungry, impatient, fed up, pissed off. Rob did his little experiment again, with his own glasses, and they fell right smack on the path. “They’ve got to be here,” he said insistently.

So down on our hands and knees we went. I was determined. Resolute. And within thirty seconds, I found my glasses, camouflaged, lenses down in the dirt. “I found them!” I squealed, and plucked them up.

The arms were slightly askew, one lens bore a deep scratch, they fit loosely. But hey, we had stepped on them several times, grinding them farther into the dirt and brush, but they were basically intact.

And yes, we might have found the glasses even if we’d never heard of Joe Dispenza’s books. Even if we’d never heard of quantum physics. We might have found them even if we’d known nothing about waves and particles,  intentions and desires. But my desire to find the glasses was so powerful, so overwhelming, that it consumed me. And Rob’s desire was just as strong because otherwise he would spend the entire week listening to me say, I can’t see anything.

So I slipped on my glasses and even though they were loose and the scratch was noticeable, I could SEE. Colors. Shapes. Textures.

At the time, I was so grateful to have found my glasses that I didn’t think much about how the odds were stacked against me. How I could just as easily have been down at that spot in Golden Valley Park the next morning patting through the same underbrush. In retrospect, I am grateful and awed.

Even though this isn’t a synchro in the traditional sense,  I think it may be in a broader sense, where reality shifts through some weird quantum thing. And yes, it set the tone for the rest of the trip. Stay tuned…


About Malaysia Flight 17, off topic here – but maybe not. I found one rather strange synchro. On July 17, 1996 -  18 years to the day that Flight 17 was shot down – TWA Flight 800 crashed shortly after takeoff from JFK, near East Moriches, New York. Speculation abounded that it was shot down. Despite an abundance of testimony from pilots and aviation experts, the National Transportation Safety Board refuses to reopen an investigation into what actually happened.

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Cosmic Brand



Russell Brand goes cosmic. Click here.

Wow! How does he talk so fast? No notes…just a rapid stream of consciousness about higher consciousness, the higher mind, yoga, meditation…love, compassion, tolerance. 

Even though what he says is nothing new to anyone treading a spiritual path, Brand expresses himself in a way that’s aimed at grabbing us and shaking us and telling us to open our eyes to the expansive nature of reality. He’s saying, ‘Wake up, people, there’s more to life our mundane everyday world and our captivation by celebrities and other trivial pursuits.’

You could watch a video of the Dalai Lama and get a similar message, but Brand is captivating, especially because he’s not talking to the choir, and his cosmic message is so down to earth.  



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The Untethered Soul


Ever since I bought an iPad two years ago, I tend to download books I’d like to read. But sometimes, bookstore browsing, in an actual physical bookstore, yields wonderful treasures.   The Untethered Soul: the journey beyond yourself by Michael A. Singer is one of the treasures.

I found it in the self-help/New Age section. I’d never heard of it, but because I liked the title and the cover, I plucked it off the shelf and opened it at random. The page was the opening for chapter 8, entitled let go now or fall. And then I read this passage:

“The exploration of Self is inextricably interwoven with the unfolding of one’s life. The natural ups and downs of life can either generate personal growth or create personal fears. Which of these dominates is completely dependent upon how we view change. Change can be viewed as either exciting or frightening, but regardless of how we view it, we must all face the fact that change is the very nature of life. If you have a lot of fear, you won’t like change. You’ll try to create a world around you that is predictable, controllable, and definable. You’ll try to create a world that doesn’t stimulate your fears. Fear doesn’t want to feel itself; it’s actually afraid of itself. So you utilize the mind is an attempt to manipulate life for the purpose of not feeling fear.”

Into my pile of purchases it went. I came home and read most of the book. Singer’s premise is compelling and he sets it out in the first chapter: the voice inside your head. We all hear this little voice. It talks to us when we’re in traffic and some driver pulls out in front of us. What’s that jerk doing? Where’d he learn to drive? It talks to us when we’re trying to fall asleep. Did I lower the garage door? Is the cat inside? Did I lock the front door?  It talks to us when we meet someone new. Am I dressed okay? Does my hair look weird?


“If you spend some time observing this mental voice,” Singer writes, “the first thing you’ll notice is that it never shuts up. When left to its own, it just talks.”  Why?  Singer contends that sometimes the voice talk for the same reason that a teakettle whistles: a buildup of energy that needs to be released.  The voice becomes very active when you’re angry at someone, feeling nervous, anxious, fearful, unhappy etc.  “The voice talks because you’re not okay inside, and talking release energy.” In essence, the voice is narrating the world for you and “the narration makes you feel more comfortable with the world around you.”

Singer talks a lot about energy centers – chakras, in particular the heart chakra. Whenever we feel slighted or argue with someone or feel down in the dumps about something, that chakra closes up. And when that chakra shuts down, energy becomes blocked, “When you close your heart or close your mind, you hide in the darkness within you. There is no light. There is no energy. There is nothing flowing.” In ancient Chinese medicine, this energy is called Chi. In Yoga, it’s called Shakti. In the modern world, we call it Spirit.

But regardless of what we call it, this energy “is what you’re experiencing when loves rushes up into your heart. This is what you’re experiencing when you’re enthused by something and all this high energy comes up inside you.”

To keep this energy flowing, keep your heart open, Singer writes. You do this, partly through your perceptions. Let’s go back to the traffic example. You’re in your car and someone pulls in front of you, cutting you off. That driver’s act creates a disturbance within you that creates resistance to the experience, and energy becomes blocked. Instead of resisting the experience, let it pass through you. He cut you off, so what?

Perception is “meant to take things in, allow you to experience them, and then let them pass through so that you’re fully present in the next moment. What it means to live life is to experience the moment that is passing through you, and then experience the next moment and then the next.”

Every chapter of this book is filled with gems. In a chapter called The Path of Unconditional Happiness, Singer sums is up beautifully: “You don’t want your happiness to be conditional upon the behavior of other people. It‘s bad enough that your happiness is conditional upon your own behavior. When you start making it conditional upon other people’s behavior, you’re in serious trouble.”

Resistance, he writes, is a waste of energy. Allow each moment of every day to pass through you.



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Mango Season!

Warning: no synchro here, just a celebration of mangos!

Mango season is here again in South Florida and this summer, our oldest tree, the one right outside my office window, has produced so many mangos that the branches are sagging. You get a sense of it in the photo above, where you actually have to stoop way over to make your way along the walk. I suspect the summer crop will be at least a hundred, maybe twice that.

For the past couple of summers, the trees have produced more fruit than in earlier years. Our summers here are definitely heating up and these trees love the heat and flourish. For most of June, our daily temps were in the mid to high 90s, with a couple of days peaking at 100 degrees. I can practically hear the mangos singing in this kind of heat.

The squirrels have a field day in our yard. As they knock green mangos from the trees, Rob gathers them up every day and puts them on a porch table, so they can ripen more quickly. He also slices up some of them and freezes them for smoothies. We should be able to enjoy mango smoothies well into the winter months.

Another unusual quality of this summer’s crop is the size. I selected our three largest mangos and weighed them on a bathroom scale – two and a half pounds!  The Hatcher mangos, named after the man who started a local mango orchard,  tend to be the largest.

Here’s a mango salad Rob made. That golden color is emblematic of the best mangos, so delectable they practically melt in your mouth.

A single mango the size of one of those in the photo can easily constitute a full meal. These fruits are loaded with nutrients. They contain more than 20 vitamins and minerals – everything from vitamins A, B6, C, D, E, K to 564 mg of potassium, thiamine, folate, iron, magnesium, plenty of fiber, no cholesterol, just 3 mg of sodium.

These suckers taste so good that you forget they’re actually good for you! Mangos help with digestion, lower cholesterol, normalize insulin in the blood, alkalize the body,  clear the skin, and aid in the prevention of certain types of cancer, are a remedy for heat stroke, act as an aphrodisiac, and boost the immune system.

Now we’re on a hunt for mango recipes. Here’s as recipe we’re trying next. It’s called  Summer Rainbow Salad:


3 vine ripe tomatoes

2 mangos, peeled, seeded, and cubed

2 avocados

1 cup of fresh blueberries

1 chopped red onion

½ bunch cilantro, chopped

¼ cup fresh lime juice

½ cup pineapple juice

Hope you all can stop by for a taste!

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Barry Eaton’s The Afterlife

I ran across this video on Darren’s blog, Just Watching the Wheels Go Round. It’s an intriguing introduction to his book. He recalls his death in WWI, the injuries he received, and understands why he has certain physical ailments in this life.

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What Happened in the Monastery


One of the most intriguing stories in Joe Dispenza’s book, You Are the Placebo: Making Your Mind Matter, concerns an experiment that was conducted in 1981. Eight men in their 70s and 80s were taken to a monastery in Peterborough, New Hampshire, for a five day retreat, where they were asked to pretend that they were young again – 22 years younger than they actually were at the time.

A second group of eight elderly men, the control group, were taken to the monastery the following week and were asked just to actively reminisce about being 22 years younger, but not to pretend that they weren’t their current age.

When the first group arrived at the monastery, they found an environment that suggested an earlier age. “They flipped through old issues of Life and the Saturday Evening Post, watched movies and television shows popular in 1959, and they listened to recordings of Perry Como and Nat King Cole on the radio,” Dispenza writes.  The men also discussed events that were current in 1959 – Castro’s rise to power in Cuba, Khruschev’s visit to the U.S. – and they talked about sports figures like Mickey Mantle.

The research team was led by Ellen Langer, a Harvard psychologist.  After each of the retreats, her team took measurements and compared them to the measurements they’d taken before the beginning of the retreat. Their discovery is fascinating. “The bodies of the men in both groups were physiologically younger, structurally as well as functionally, although those in the first study group (who pretended they were younger) improved significantly more than the control group, who’d merely reminisced.”

There were improvements in the men’s height, weight, gait. They got taller as their posture straightened, their joints became more flexible, and as their arthritis diminished their fingers lengthened. Their eyesight and hearing improved and their memory sharpened. “The men literally became younger in those five days, right in front of the researcher’s eyes.”

Langer reported that at the end of the five days, she was playing football – touch football – with the men, some of whom had given up their canes. Dispenza’s explanation for this is that the men were able to “turn on the circuits in their brains that reminded them of who they had been 22 years ago, and then their body chemistry somehow magically responded. The change wasn’t just in their minds; it was in their bodies.”

Interestingly, Langer’s experiment with the men in the monastery may soon hit the big screen. Jennifer Aniston is slated to co-produce the movie and play Langer, who was 34 years old at the time of the experiment. The title of the movie is certainly appropriate: Counterclockwise.

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The Pale Gold Snail

This morning I came out of our local grocery store and spotted something on the right side of my car, at the back. I unlocked my trunk, put my bags of groceries inside, then took a closer look at the object.

At first, I though it was some sort of weird leaf or bud. But when I nudged it with my thumbnail, it moved slightly and I realized it was a snail. It wasn’t the usual kind of snails you see in Florida – the little black devils that slowly work their way through your yard, devastating everything they find edible. This little sucker was a pale gold.

As I drove home, I thought about the esoteric meaning of snails. The obvious stuff is that they carry their homes with them, like turtles; that they move by producing slime (oh yuck); and that they are usually found in gardens, yards, even in the sea, but NOT on cars. By the time I pulled into the garage, I decided that interpreting this like a dream might be more relevant.

In dreams – at least in my dreams- a vehicle is quite often symbolic of the self. We own two cars – both Mazdas. But the one I think of as my car was the one I was driving – a black 2008 Mazda 3 that I had named Synchronicity.  The snail had attached itself to the back right side of the car. The right side of the body symbolizes the left side of the brain, the reasoning, logical side, the yang, the male.

Anyway, I went into the house with the groceries, then went back into the garage with my iPhone and snapped a couple of photos of the snail. Both photos catch all the reflections from sunlight and the yard and nearby trees and it’s difficult to tell what is what. I figured I would take another picture at night.

the snail is that weird lump halfway up the photo


So as I puzzled over the snail’s appearance on my car, I zipped around doing errands and stuff around the house in preparation for our trip to Minneapolis. One of the things I did was put four eggs in a pot on the stove so that we could have some hard boiled egg snacks when we drove to our daughter’s place in Orlando, the first leg of our journey.  And I promptly forgot about the eggs.

Twenty or thirty minutes later, while working on a chapter in my new novel, I smelled something odd and wondered if Rob had put something on the stove that was now burning. Instead of getting up to look, I went back to my story. Awhile later, I heard Rob shouting, “You gotta see this mess.”

I went out into the kitchen – and this is why Rob is the cook in this family – and my four eggs had exploded  -big time. Egg was everywhere – bits of shells and yolk on the cabinets, the microwave, the electrical outlets, in crevices and nooks, on the wall, the stove. A major mess. I considered taking photos, but this sort of mess was, well, really AWFUL

One facet of the snail’s message became abundantly clear as I started the cleanup: PAY ATTENTION.

Later in the day, I began researching snails. These creatures don’t have the ability to hear; I am 90 percent deaf in my left ear for the range of the human voice, due to a skull fracture when I was five. Yet, with my deaf ear, I can hear dog whistles, which are well above the range for human hearing.

Every snail is an hermaphrodite – it has the reproductive organs of both genders. (I’m not transgender or an hermaphrodite!) Yet, snails can’t fertilize themselves, they have to mate to reproduce. But after mating, both partners are able to deliver a set of eggs. Pretty weird, but okay. I took this to mean that I needed both my right and left brains – yin and yang energy – to complete the novel I’m working on, part of which takes place in a world two hundreds years in the future.  It’s not enough for my right brain to wander around exclaiming wow, wow…I need a left-brain blueprint.

And since I’ve been reading Joe Dispenza’s books, I realized the snail was addressing the process of manifesting desires. Pay attention, move slowly, be self-sufficient, believe in who you are.  Snails usually emerge from their eggs within four weeks, so I’ve got a time frame. One month.

Young snails are born with a shell, but it’s fragile and the first thing they usually consume is the egg from which they emerged – it’s rich in calcium. I take that as a message that perhaps I need more calcium in my diet. This seems unlikely. I love cheese and eat it at every opportunity. But okay, I’ll give more calcium a whirl.

When I went into the garage tonight to take a third picture of the snail, with the door shut and the sun gone so there wouldn’t be any reflection,  the snail wasn’t there. I inspected the car carefully, but no snail.  It had delivered its message and departed for – well, wherever, maybe our yard.

Some years ago, not long after we moved into our current home, a neighbor and I were en route to pick up Megan from middle school. A dragonfly kept pacing us, touching down on the windshield, flying away again, playing tag with us. My neighbor, Maya, a Peruvian woman, said, “Trish, messages are headed your way and they’re good. Very positive.”

“Huh?” I said.

“The dragonfly. It’s lucky. It pertains to communication, your work.”

A few days later, I landed a nice publishing contract for two more Tango Key books that featured psychic and bookstore owner Mira Morales. From then on, my relationship with critters changed significantly. They are always messengers. But we have to decipher the code.

And well, there’s the incident with the exploding eggs…


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After reading Dr. Joe Dispenza’s You Are the Placebo: Making Your Mind Matter, I ordered one of his earlier books. Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself: Losing Your Mind and Creating a New One promises to be equally good. The first chapter, The Quantum You, is one of the clearest explanations of quantum reality that I’ve ever read.

All potential possibilities of the life you want to live exist in the quantum field – what Abraham/Esther Hicks call the vortex. Think of it as a wave of potential. Our job is to collapse the wave of what we desire – health, wealth, happiness, a more satisfying job/career, a great relationship, friends, whatever it is – into a particle – i.e. manifest it in physical reality. But a particle can’t manifest in physical reality  until we observe it.

Quantum physics calls this phenomenon collapse of the wave function or the observer effect. Dispenza writes: “We now know that the moment the observer looks for an electron, there is a specific point in time and space when all probabilities of the electron collapse into a physical event. With this discovery, mind and matter can no longer be considered separate; they are intrinsically related, because subjective mind produces measurable changes on the objective, physical world.

“The thoughts we think send an electrical signal out into the field. The feelings we generate magnetically draw events back to us. Together, how we think and how we feel produces a state of being, which generates an electromagnetic signature that influences every atom in our world. This should prompt us to ask, What am I broadcasting (consciously or unconsciously) on a daily basis?”

The field of potential won’t respond in a consistent way when we think one thing and feel the opposite. If, for instance, you want to be healthy or wealthy and are thinking thoughts about health and wealth but feel unhealthy or poor, then your reality won’t change. However, “…when our thoughts and feelings are aligned, when we are in a new state of being, then we are sending a coherent signal on the airwaves of the invisible.”

Dispenza adds another piece that I don’t recall reading anywhere else before: that to change our reality, the outcomes we attract “have to surprise, even astonish, us in the way in which they come about.” We shouldn’t be able to predict the outcome because if we can do that, then it’s nothing new.  If you try to control how an outcome will unfold, then “you just went Newtonian. -  Newtonian physics was about trying to anticipate and predict events; it was all about cause and effect.” Instead, he says, change your internal environment – what you think and how you feel and see how your external environment shifts.

He shares a terrific story about an experience his 20-something daughter created. She was in college, it was spring and he asked her what she wanted to manifest during her summer break. Her desires were specific: to work in Italy, learn and experience new things, visit at least 6 Italian cities, and spend at least a week in Florence. She wanted to work for the first six weeks and then spend the rest of the summer at home.

“I asked her to create the vision in her mind until it was so clear and real that the thought she was thinking became the experience, and her brain’s synapses began to wire that information as if it was a reality.”

His daughter called a few weeks later and told Dispenza that her university was offering an art history summer course in Italy. She could get the cost of the program and all expenses down from $7,000 to nearly half that and asked if he could help pay for it. Dispenza felt she was trying to control the outcome of this particular experience “instead of allowing the quantum field to orchestrate events. He told her to really “inhabit” the trip to Italy until she got “lost” in the experience.

Several weeks later, she called again. She and her art history teacher had been in the library  and started speaking in Italian, which they both spoke fluently. The teacher said he suddenly remembered that one of his colleagues needed someone to teach Level I Italian to some American students who would be studying in Italy that summer.”

Dispenza’s daughter got the job, she would be in 6 different Italian cities for 6 weeks, with the last week in Florence, and would be home for the second half of the summer. In short, she got everything she had desired. “My daughter changed her state of being to the extent that she was causing an effect. She was living by the quantum law.”

Pretty cool. So, what do you desire?



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The Library Angel Visits

 On May 29, we posted a terrific bird synchronicity that Nancy Pickard sent us.  It started with a book Nancy was reading – Providence of a Sparrow by Chris Chester. As a result of that book, Nancy ordered Following the Wrong God Home by Clive Scott Chisholm, a close friend of Chris Chester’s, and it triggered another synchronicity.


 It all started with that bird book I sent you. Now, jump from it, over the baby goose in that synchro, to yesterday when a book arrived that I had ordered because of the first book. This second book was written by Chris Chester’s best friend who seems to be equally brilliant and interesting.

Now for some background on this new syncho: in the novel I’m writing, there is a character who I’ve been afraid may come across as a stereotype instead of real. I made him as real as I could, and I know men like him exist, because I’ve met some. But still, some people *do* seem like stereotypes in real life, and fiction has to 3-dimensionalize them, somehow, in ways they may not even do for themselves. If you follow, as I know you do.

So yesterday the second book arrives. I decide to open it at random to see if there’s a message for me. My finger lands on the beginning of a scene–a real life scene–WITH AN OLD MAN WHO IS JUST LIKE THE CHARACTER IN MY NOVEL!!! I’m not kidding, even down to his loss of three children. There he is, my guy, coming alive on the page, reassuring me that I got him right and did him justice. But it also helped because it made me see more clearly to the heart of him, and now I think I can change my characterization of him just slightly to deepen him.

What’s next with the bird book synchros, I wonder? :)


How often have you been in a bookstore and opened a book at random just to see if there’s something in the book that speaks to you?  And when the message is pertinent to something in your life, you probably buy the book. This kind of thing is probably another form of the Library Angel synchronicity.

And, Happy July 4th to our American friends and may everyone have a great weekend!

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Fiction v Reality


In 1972, Regency Press published a novel called Black Abductor by Harrison James, the pseudonym for James Rusk Jr. The story centered around a terrorist group led by a black man who kidnapped a college student named Patricia. Her father was wealthy, well known, and had right wing sympathies.

In the novel, Patricia was kidnapped near her campus and her boyfriend, who was with her at the time, was badly beaten by the abductors. For a time, he was even a suspect in the case.

The fictional Patricia initially resisted her captors but soon subscribed to their ideology and become a champion of their cause. The terrorists send Polaroid photos to her father and describe what they’d done as America’s “first political kidnapping.” They predicted that they would eventually be surrounded by police, tear-gassed, and wiped out.

In 1974, two years after this book was written, Patricia Hearst – college student and daughter of wealthy, right-wing Randolph Hearst, was abducted from her apartment near her campus. Her kidnappers were members of the Simbionese Liberation Army, a terrorist group led by a black man.  Her boyfriend, Steven Weed, was with her at the time, was badly beaten, and became a suspect in the case. Patricia Hearst, like the fictional Patricia, became a sympathizer of her abductors’ cause. She eventually robbed a bank with her abductors and was photographed carrying an M1 Carbine.

The FBI had apparently read the novel and the author became a suspect in the case. The real Patricia’s abductors were eventually surrounded by the police, tear-gassed, and killed, just as the fictional kidnappers had predicted they would be. 

So, were the terrorists familiar with the novel? Or was this another instance where an author tunes in on a future event? We’ve written about this phenomenon before:

1) Parallels between the sinking of the Titanic and a fictional vessel, the Titan, depicted in Morgan Robertson’s novel Futility, written 14 years before the Titanic sank

2) The eerie connections between Edgar Allan Poe’s unfinished sea adventure novel and a real life event 48 years later

3) Author Nancy Pickard’s experience when a scene from one of her novels, Virgin of Small Plains,  came true

4) Trish’s experience where her novel, Storm Surge, had eerie parallels to the devastating effects of Hurricane Andrew.

In 7 Secrets of Synchronicity, secret four is about the link between creativity and synchronicity. Perhaps in periods of heightened creativity, our consciousness, drifts free of the present, and soars through it, tapping into probable future events.    

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The Supremes & Hobby Lobby


Today’s ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court reflects what’s deeply wrong with this country.

The specifics: Hobby Lobby, a Christian owned hobby company, challenged the contraception part of the health care mandate in the Affordable Care Act that requires most companies to cover a broad spectrum of birth control for female employees. The ruling said that “closely held corporations could not be required to provide birth control coverage for their employees.” The owners of Hobby Lobby believe that some forms of contraception are akin to abortion.

And because corporations, thanks to an earlier court ruling, are now viewed as “people” who have rights, five men on the court ruled in favor of Hobby Lobby. This ruling did NOT include vasectomies and Viagra.

It’s not clear how a for-profit company can be considered a religious organization. But what IS clear with this ruling is if you are a woman who works for Hobby Lobby, your boss is the one who will determine whether you can use an IUD.  Your boss is the one who will tell you what these five male justices did – you want birth control? Tell the government to pay for it.

Yes, women can pay privately for birth control. But it’s not cheap and if you’re working for an hourly wage, you’re probably already struggling to make ends meet.  So the ruling is likely to result in a greater number of abortions – IF you live in a state where you can even find a clinic that still performs them.

Republicans in many states have succeeded in passing laws that have placed such dire restrictions on abortion that in some places in this country, a woman has to drive hundreds of miles for the procedure. Or she has to wait several days and must be “informed” about the viability for the fetus – you know, scare tactics. Brainwashing.

These same politicians are the ones who claim to believe in the sanctity of all life – but are eager to send you into war.  You are of more interest to them when you’re a fetus than when you’re born. After you’re born, well, you’re on your own. And oh, when you come back from that war, torn apart, your body in shambles, you’re lucky if you can see a doctor soon because the Veteran’s Administration is a bureaucratic nightmare.

So now, corporations aren’t just people; they have more rights than you do as an individual.  And what’s incredibly hypocritical about Hobby Lobby is that they have significant investments in pharmaceutical companies that manufacture the very contraceptions  they are denying to their employees.

The five men on the supreme court who supported this ruling might as well be aliens from Saturn; that’s how little they understand about how most Americans live. Then again, once you hit the highest court in the land, you are breathing rarefied air. You’re up there in history with the feudal lords, the king and queens, the slave masters, the profiteers, the money changers.

Yet, it’s possible – dimly possible – that the ruling might eventually push health insurance for contraception away from employers and into the hands of government through Medicare or some other single payer system. That would be the best end result. But who knows how many hoops this will entail, how many  legal arguments, how many detours.

My main question at this point, more than forty years after Roe v Wade is this: why are supreme court justices appointed for life? I know the original thinking was that a lifetime appointment would supposedly separate them from the political party in power. Ha. Take a look at the five men who voted for this travesty:

John Roberts – chief justice – ROMAN CATHOLIC, appointed by George W Bush in 2005

Anthony Scalia – ROMAN CATHOLIC, appointed by Reagan, 1986. Supposedly a member of Opus Dei (Google that one unless you’ve read Dan Brown and already know!).

Anthony Kennedy- ROMAN CATHOLIC, appointed by Reagan, 1988.

Clarence Thomas – ROMAN CATHOLIC (oops, Anita Hill is here somewhere. Google her),  appointed by George Herbert Walker Bush (W’s daddy) , 1991.

Samuel Alito-  ROMAN CATHOLIC, appointed by George W Bush, 2006.

ALL CATHOLICS. Really?? Are you kidding me?

Is it any wonder that the court ruled the way it did??


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Tuning in?

 Our dog park is across the street from the Aero Club, a suburban community where many houses have hangars and the private airstrip is now paved. The flight path to that runway brings many types of planes directly over the dog park.

On February 17, when Rob and I were at the park, an experimental plane – like the one depicted above -  came in very low over the park and dog owners peered upward or ducked. Yeah, ducked. It was that close. Rob said to some people nearby, “Did you hear about the plane that crashed here?”

What?” I asked. “When?”

“Oh, you know, that plane that crashed four or five years ago. But it’s going to happen again.”

Two people had died in that crash, a man and a woman who had left behind two small children. But I was struck that Rob initially referred to it in a way that led me to believe there had been a recent crash.                

The next  morning, the 18th, I dreamed that the Palm Beech International Airport had changed its flight paths so that planes now came directly over our house. In the dream, I saw a twin engine plane plane  lying perilously low and headed straight for our house. I could hear its noisy engines and thought, My God it may hit us.

It didn’t, though, and I woke up and walked out into the kitchen, eager for coffee and food. Rob eventually joined me and I told him about my dream. Then forgot it.

At nearly one this afternoon, Rob and I were waiting for a call from Whitley Streiber. We were going to be doing an interview with him about The Synchronicity Highway.  Our windows were open, the air here has been cool, and I heard this shrieking chorus of police alarms and commented on it to Rob.

Then we did our interview and I forgot about it until I received a text message from a Karin, a woman I know from the dog park. She asked if I’d heard about the plane that had crashed across the street from the dog park. The pilot, she said, was killed. It was the experimental plane that had flown in so low the other day. The pilot flew for American Airlines and was a friend of our neighbor, who is also a pilot for American.


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A long ‘Trek’

Leonard Nimoy is 83. ‘Live long & prosper.’

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On June 23, the temperature in South Florida hit 99, at least according to my weather app. The app, in fact, had been calling for a high of 100.  This temperature is more in line with August or September when temps in the 90s  are combined with incredibly muggy air. But temperatures like this in June are unusual.

Rob was doing some yard work and Noah was outside with him, hoping Rob would toss him a ball or Frisbee. After five or ten minutes, they couldn’t stand it anymore. They dragged themselves into the house, into the air-conditioning, Noah panting hard, and Rob exclaiming how the heat was a “scorcher.”

We usually take Noah to the dog park between four and five, but it was just too hot. Even at 6 PM, the temperature was  94 and still had that “scorched” feeling to it.  “Scorcher” and “scorched” became our favorite words for describing how hot it was. Scorcher, scorched, scorcher, scorched, one a noun, the other a verb.

We decided to take Noah to the park after dinner, when it might be moderately less of a “scorcher.” Rob put some chicken breasts on the grill and I went back to work until dinner. Suddenly, he comes into the house carrying the plate with our chicken breasts on it.

“The temperature on the grill went nuts! The chicken breasts are scorched!” I could almost hear the trickster chuckling when I snapped a photo.

Fortunately, the chicken was still edible, just blackened on the outside. 

Awhile later, I clicked onto Huffington Post and saw a headline announcing that May was the hottest month – globally – in recorded history. How did the article open? “This past May was a scorcher.”

I think that’s a cluster for SCORCHER.

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