One of the most gratifying things for a writer is to discover that something you’ve written has enabled another person to gain insight into his or her life. That’s what happened when Lawrence from Liverpool wrote us this evening. The sequence of synchros and spirit communication are stunning.
Hello. My name is Lawrence, I’m from Liverpool, UK, and your book Synchronicity and the Other Side was itself at the centre of an astonishing sychronicitous series of events of my own, which I’m sure you’d like to hear about. Unfortunately your synchronicity blog left me a little baffled as to where to post the story as comments under other items didn’t seem appropriate and other people’s comments were considerably shorter than my story. Hence I could only think to use your email address from your personal site.
I will simply copy and paste the tale as I reported it elsewhere….
2003, 18 months after my dad had died:
My father’s name was Gerry. Short for Gerard. He’d given my mother a cross, to replace a previous one, on a necklace chain. She knew it was still around her neck in her bedroom but became suddenly aware in the living room that it had vanished from the chain, and was distraught and tearful.
She’s wheelchair bound so there were only 3 rooms in which to search for it. And I searched every inch of floor on my hands and knees, including her bedroom and the bed itself. It was nowhere to be found. I did something unlikely…having recently read of such things, I privately addressed the air and “them”, requesting “they” please return the cross.
A few minutes later I walked back into her bedroom and there it was, right slap bang in the middle of the empty, plain tiled floor. This abbreviated version can’t convey the absolute certainty that this was not a case of just not noticing – like the glasses on top of your head or the pencil behind your ear – but that something truly startling had occurred with all the spectacle of a parlour trick.
On Monday of this week [10 December], 2 things happened. My mum, seemingly recovered a few days earlier from the confusions of another UTI, was suddenly fully back in a state of rambling dementia bordering on delirium, and referred, cheerfully enough, to my dad having been standing (when, she didn’t say) by her bedroom door and saying nothing. Secondly, that day I received in the post a book I’d ordered on a very specific subject that had interested me lately…the claim that synchronicity and multi-layered coincidences are organized and arranged by the “spirits” to prove they live on, and to guide you. (I was interested by the claim because I drown in such coincidences, especially in recent weeks, and its never appeared to have any meaning at all, much less involve the dead!) I was only a few pages in when I read this paragraph: (from Synchronicity and the Other Side)
Jeri Gerard recalls an encounter with a lost or trapped spirit in a house where she was living: “It was something very heavy and annoying that wanted my attention. One day, my favorite pen disappeared, a Cross pen, a gift from my mother. I knew that I had left it on the made bed, but it was no longer there. I searched the bed, then the room, then the house, Finally, I turned to the living room and fiercely ordered my pen to be returned. When I went back to the bedroom, it was precisely in the middle of the bed”.
It took a couple of reads for all the layers of this startling parallel to sink in. The incident, the location, the search, the process, the resolution…the emphasis on the pen being a “Cross” and the woman’s name: “Jeri Gerard” (Gerard being Lawrence’s father’s first name). And all in a book about synchronicity.
To me this was jaw-dropping. I wrote it all down to someone I’d been corresponding with on the subject in the previous few days – the person who had first drawn my attention to the claim that these things are arranged by the deceased. Within half an hour of doing so…..
My mum – who knew nothing of any of this – became agitated and started demanding “the tin box”. There’s a tin box in her bedside drawer, but she hadn’t seen it for months, I keep nothing in it but old, nearly empty, tablet packets like Rennies or Paracetamol. Her state of mind being what it is she oughtn’t even know it was there, so surely was either rambling or meant something else?
But she got more and more agitated and demanding, so only getting this particular box out would placate her. She started rummaging through the contents as if searching for something and, with an expression that appeared to say “see!” and pulled out…the chain with the cross on it. I had no idea that’s where it was these days. She offered no explanation, but was now satisfied and pacified, and we could now put it and the box back in the drawer.
Make of this what you will.