In my previous post, I mentioned how I’d seen a link to a book about devic spirits when I was looking up the correct spelling of “deva” because I felt impelled to use the word “deva” for the title of a painting rather than “faery”, my original choice.
The book reminded me of my ability to tune into plants, trees, rocks, crystals and so on, something I’d lost touch with due to the layers of forgetfulness papered on by the need to survive life on earth.
To me, it was an act of synchronicity – of the universe presenting something for me to connect with and so lead me onto a new path and new understanding, and to start ripping off the layers built up over the years, to return to the essence of the true me.
Synchronicity, for me, is the way universal energy opens up hints or clues to help you open your eyes and see some of the magic and sparkle of the act of being on earth which we mainly don’t see because we have our eyes wide shut.
Someone commented to me recently that he “let the universe provide for me”. I don’t happen to believe that you just sit around and wait for the Universe to provide for you here on Earth, as if you were a blob of humanity lolling around and waiting for goodies to drop in your lap. It’s a very Western way of thinking which I don’t feel would be much appreciated by refugees, people in war zones, or those in developing countries who work their guts out to survive stultifying poverty.
It’s my belief we need to be proactive and to get off our arses. We are here to make our way in life, to get it right at times, to have pratfalls at other times, to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down, to learn from mistakes, to use our mojo, to be alert, to live up to who we were born to be, to keep our eyes wide open to what comes our way. And above all to take action.
Synchronicity is something we can tune into to help us on the highways and by-ways of our life on Mother Earth. Often, synchronicity gives us a nudge to move from the road well travelled to the road less travelled.
I first became aware of synchronicity when I lived in Boonah from 1994-2002, after living in Perth, Western Australia, for just over twenty years.
Boonah is an inland town in south-east Queensland, behind the Gold Coast. It lies in a beautiful area called The Scenic Rim, almost as if it was in a cradle of mountains.
Boonah is a bit like a vortex. People get drawn to it and those people often undergo huge changes, then get spat out again to bring their new awareness into their lives in the wider world.
I’ll go into more detail about our lives in Boonah further down the line. But it was here that I staged a 180 deg. turn in my life, from being logical, dispassionate, detached and analytical to opening up to mystical experiences and being intuitive, feeling, psychic, creative and emotional.
I started learning about crystals, spiritual matters and teaching in Boonah. But the one event I do remember really clearly is buying a long, red, brightly patterned dress simply because I listened to my intuition and trusted my feeling that this dress was meant for me.
No, I’m not being funny and I realise buying a dress is no big deal in the scheme of things but, for me, it was an eye-opener to dances with universal energy I hadn’t consciously experienced before.
I went into a newly opened dress shop in Boonah High Street with a friend, browsed a dress rack and came across the red dress I described above. It was $75 and we were pretty broke, so I put a $25 deposit on it and decided I’d worry about the balance later. I just felt strongly this dress was meant for me.
That afternoon I returned to a friend’s house where I’d been teaching her and her mother Reiki 1 and 2. I don’t normally teach such concentrated workshops in Reiki but my friend’s mother was leaving for an isolated part of Queensland and so we crammed the learning process into two days. Not ideal, of course, but it was better then than never.
As we finished the workshop, which I hadn’t charged for as my friend was as broke as I was, my friend’s mother handed me $50 which she said she felt she needed to pay as the Reiki would be so helpful in the town to which she was travelling.
I was gobsmacked. Here was the balance for my dress within hours of taking a leap of trust and listening to the intuitive message that this dress was something I needed to wear to open me up to new understandings. I didn’t realise it at the time but it was red and orange, quite a leap for me from the blues and blacks I liked wearing. It signified a step forward in overcoming the my fear of red. I can understand now that red for me was a subconscious memory of my father’s anger and aggro and I avoided it like the plague. Wearing red (and orange for creativity and emotional happiness) was a step forward in overcoming old, deep-seated fears from my childhood.
Now I have to tell you that when the idea of face painting was first mooted to me, I nearly ran in the opposite direction. My friend Yvonne and I had been at a spiritual-type evening on the Gold Coast which was quite shambolic. There was no structure, speakers rambled on without any time limits and, in the huge hall booked for the evening, about 25 people showed up.
I was one of the speakers but as the evening drew on, I got progressively cranky at the chaotic nature of the event, particularly as I was also still recovering from a broken leg and ankle and faded rather fast at times.
In the end I gave up the idea of speaking as I was feeling quite stressed. Yvonne, and her daughter Joy, suggested I calm down and get centred again by getting my face painted by a guy who tuned in and created spiritual patterns on your third eye and throat centre. The third eye is one of the wheels of energy in your body and this wheel interacts with your intuitive and psychic gifts and talents. The throat centre, another chakra, works with your creative expression and the way you communicate your truth and interact with others. I’ll talk about this in more depth further down the line.
I thought this was frankly a load of old cobblers but I allowed myself to be taken to Mike who set to work. The response within myself was quite astounding. I could feel myself calming down, and then feeling power surging through me as Mike completed his painting. I was so glad I’d had the guts to try something quite new to me and which I’d initially dismissed because of the logical side of me which kept popping up from time to time.
We finished that evening late and drove over Tamborine Mountain, at the back of the Gold Coast, to get back to Boonah. We were both starving so we stopped at a petrol station to get coffee and some snacks. Yvonne waited in the car while I stooged around the food area of the petrol station and picked out what we needed. I did notice that people gave me a very wide berth and I got a very odd look from the cashier. It wasn’t until I got back into the car and turned to Yvonne that she and I realised I’d been wandering around with some very odd-looking paint on my face. We both burst out laughing quite raucously at the image of me and my warpaint and people backing off nervously and hurrying out of the shop. But I got very fast service!
As it was, when I got home, I loved the feeling of the paint on my forehead and throat so much, I kept it on. I rolled over the next morning to face my husband, Bryan, in bed, and he looked at me, sighed and said: “I really don’t want to know where, why and how you got that stuff on your face!”
In the photo above, I’ve got my face painted again as I was at a party north of Brisbane, at Maleny, a really lovely town close to the Sunshine Coast, where Mike was again present with his paints. And I was first in line to get my face painted again!
Over the years since I’ve lost a lot of my inhibitions due in part to the adventure of face painting and the wonderful feeling of peace and spiritual awareness that this exploration beyond my boundaries brought to me. I’ve worn long, flowing dresses, heaps of bling jewellery, purple eye make-up and dyed my hair purple. I have found that people open up to different ways of dressing and often approach me to talk about my clothes, jewellery or hair colour.
When I was in London in September 2012 for a reunion of my friends at the University of Bradford, from 1966-1970, a young guy asked me to shake his hand as I left the cafe at the Royal Festival Hall. I think he thought I’d freak but on the contrary, I shook his hand, asked if I could hug him. When he said yes, I gave him a long, warm, huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. He looked quite stunned when I walked off as he certainly got more than he’d bargained for.
Trust me, this is something I never would have done in the years when I was in the throes of depression and stomped around in black. I was very fat then and I rather think I could have given the Incredible Hulk a run for his money. But this is going to be addressed further down the line. I’m going to stay on course with synchronicity in my next post as my meeting with my friend, Yvonne, was life-changing and again, my meeting with her was due to synchronicity.