Synchronicity has been a forever deepening experience for me throughout my spiritual development. Seeing signs, sensing their deeper meanings and analysing my dreams and their symbols have all played, and continue to play, an important role in my understanding of myself, others and the world around me.
The word synchronicity was constructed by analytical psychologist Carl Jung on November 18th (which also happens to be my birthday – honestly, the clues to your purpose are everywhere) during his 1928 seminar about Dreams. Jung constructed the word “synchronicity” from two Greek roots: Synch (a coming together) and chronos (time). The term can be interpreted, literally, as a “falling together in time”.
And that’s exactly how it feels for me. Symbols, messages, imagery and archetypes seem to drop from the sky and reach me at times that make perfect sense. As I’ve become increasingly conscious and aware that this is happening, the more frequent and profound it becomes, like communicating with the universe in my own secret, private language. The symbols that reach me are often extremely specific to me and likely wouldn’t be recognised or noticed by others.
One particular example that comes to mind is in relation to my Grandmother. We had a very close relationship, sharing loving moments throughout her life, including towards the very end when she no longer remembered that I was her Granddaughter (to her I was someone loving, someone kind; she knew our relationship was special but she couldn’t remember my name or how we were related).
When she died I felt grief that I’d never experienced before. In some ways I was so happy for her, no longer in pain or suffering, but my own pain was unbearable. Around a month after she died, I was laying in bed one morning, asking for a sign. I wanted to know she was okay. I wanted reassurance that she was happy and safe. I thought nothing more of it until I left the house that day and recieved my very special, very specific sign. A sign that took my breath away. In the hanging basket outside of my front door, the one I’d done nothing with for months, the one that was full of old dead roots and had never been planted with flowers, was a very bright, vibrant, freshly opened, perfectly formed fuschia flower.
That might have felt special enough on its own, but I was astounded, since it is this exact flower that, many years before, when I was a child, my Grandmother had weaved magical stories from. She was a keen gardener, and there were many large fuchsia bushes in her garden. Their shape lent perfectly to the fantastic story she’d tell me; that at night, when nobody was looking, they would come alive and dance on the lawn under the moonlight, twirling in their pink and purple ballerina gowns.
The experience resulted in a phrase from the metaphysical text, ‘A Course in Miracles’ to rise in my consciousness like a balloon floating, untethered.
‘Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love’.
The depth of love shared between my Grandmother and I had created a miracle – the miracle of communication between worlds, through the power of synchronicity (remember Jungs meaning – falling together in time). It feels to me that at that moment, the timelines of our different worlds touched, and the flower remained as the manifestation (the miracle) of our love.
I’ve had many experiences such as that one, to the point where now the signs and symbols happen on an almost daily basis. I often wonder, at what point does one decide that they will begin to take notice of these ‘coincidences’ and see them as something more meaningful, to be studied and understood, rather than brushed off? For me it was the Fuschia flower. So specific. So connected.
Some people reading this may think that I look into these things too deeply. That I’m finding meaning where there is none. For the majority of my life I probably would’ve thought the same thing. But I don’t share my stories for those people. I share them for the seekers and the ones who can sense the truth beyond the material world. You aren’t crazy, you’re awake.
Synchronicity and it’s power have become more mainstream since the widespread teaching of the Law of Attraction following the 2006 release of Rhonda Byrne’s ‘The Secret’ film. To me, the principles feel diluted, overtly materialistic and, probably due to being heavily marketed by so many coaches, speakers and authors, a little plastic at times.
The experience of synchronicity itself is none of those things. Yes, sometimes it is seeing your favourite bird and soaking in the feelings that it brings you, and that’s beautiful, I do it too. But it is more than that, if you’ll let it be. For me it’s been like finding gaps in the fabric between worlds. Allowing me to peek behind the curtain and get a sense of otherness that so many of us can sense but not explain. It feels loving. And it has a beautiful way of keeping me feeling more grounded and ‘in my body’ than other spiritual practices that have had me searching for ascension and a way out of it.
Author Sharon Blackie describes the world of myth, archetypes, stories and dreams as having an existence that’s independent of us. That instead of these things being created by us, they actually exist in another world, and we are influenced and can feel them. I love this idea. It fits so beautifully with how I felt about the fuschia experience. Sharon shares this beautiful passage on her website which describes the importance of allowing synchronicity a place in our lives. She says, ‘In cutting ourselves off from the imaginal world, and in relegating the powerful act of imagining to mere ‘day-dreaming’ or ‘fantasising’, we are also cutting ourselves off from what philosophers and poets throughout history have understood to be the underlying reality of our existence. Because it is imagining which allows us to penetrate the veil, to see beyond the everyday, and into the world of myth and archetype – to begin to understand the ‘Forms’ or ‘Ideas’ which Plato suggested were the underlying structures of the cosmos. To engage in the practice of imagining, then, and to work with the mythic imagination, is about moving beyond the limits of our ego and descending into the deepest layers of our individual psyche, in order to understand the ways in which we are uniquely entangled with the world soul – the psyche of the cosmos itself.’
I appreciate that this all feels a little confusing to begin with, but if you’re interested in allowing this magical world a space in your own experience, I encourage you to follow it. It is a rich and rewarding arm of spiritual practice that goes beyond the beautiful but often hollow experiences that we seek meaning in when we want to deepen our spiritual experiences.
Symbolism has always felt important to me. I have a dream meanings book that is battered from years of use as a fascinated teenager. I love how it’s so particular to an individual, yet the concepts are so widely seen across the human experience. For me, when I do this work in my own life, or with the women who choose to explore it with me, it feels like making sense of how an individual fits into the bigger picture of life. It helps us to see and understand why certain things are playing out in our lives, what the purpose is and how we can choose differently if we want to. Life as a human being is made so much more challenging by our own interpretations of what’s going on around us. Symbols and stories can assist us in giving these things a meaning and a message, and in my opinion most importantly of all, can give us a sense of personal faith and hope in our lives.