The Interactive Newsletter You Never Asked For
A new day begins. I’m rereading the preceding pages to get a running start into this chapter, and, as my eyes reach the last two lines of Breathe Deeply, a song begins on KFOG. Such sweet synchronicity. It’s The Police again, but this time the song is Message in a Bottle.
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapt in awe, is as good as dead.
Even though I’ve become quite familiar with such coincidences, I certainly don’t expect them to occur as if on cue. I don’t sit here waiting for circumstances to align so I can make extravagant claims to dazzle you. I wouldn’t know how to manufacture such happenings and maintain any expectation that you’d still find this story even remotely believable. (This still is remotely believable, isn’t it?)
Synchronicities, when they do occur, aren’t so much the surprise they once were. It’s not that I’ve become jaded, it’s that the experience has evolved to become more a sense of wonderment. I feel more awe and admiration for the source of these happenings than shock at their occurrence. And personally, these happenings provide guidance and lend credibility to seemingly outrageous notions. Without these coincidental confidence-builders, this newsletter probably would’ve never have found its way out of my hands (and into yours).
This Doubting Thomas is exceedingly grateful for the wondrously lavish aid he’s received in attempting to communicate these heartfelt observations.
Last year, in a fine art seminar at San Jose State, we were asked to write a fairly lengthy paper on personal sources of inspiration. The following fragment from my response seems especially relevant to our opening theme:
Imagery appears to me “out of the blue” on a daily basis, but the full-blown visionary experience is a much rarer phenomenon. I do not have tangible evidence of how long these “visions” last, but I suspect they are very brief. The imagery comes complete with explanations, but no words. It’s a kind of direct knowledge. Or, it’s just my imagination. You be the judge:
A vast plane extends in every direction as far as the eye can see. A myriad of lines rise and fall above and below the surface of this plane. The lines become sharply pointed waveforms. Their amplitudes are modulating constantly, their colors shifting as they do so. Most of the waveforms seldom stray far from the surface of the plane. They blend into a field of static. A few reach out beyond the boundaries established by the many. As each does, another line streaks in from outside the realm of the plane, becomes a similarly shaped waveform, and attempts to resonate with its newly selected partner.
The dance of the waveforms continues. Some react positively to the external stimuli, rising even higher. Some do not react, unaware of any outside influence, and others immediately drop to the perceived safety of the static field. The entire scene is ever-shifting with no discernible pattern other than the inwardly streaking lines reacting to waveforms rising above a certain amplitude.
Still other inwardly streaking lines fall into the static field, occasionally coaxing an unsuspecting waveform out of the miasma and into the dance of life.
This is a crude approximation of one way in which God perceives our world. Each waveform is an individual. The vast majority of individuals have become indistinguishable due to the uninspired lives they lead. Others, who have become more inspired, more aware, are the waveforms reaching further from the surface of the plane. The inwardly streaking lines are actually manipulations of our external circumstances resulting in a curious phenomenon I’ve previously identified as synchronicity. These synchronicities are designed to inspire a greater interest in the circumstances surrounding our lives, designed to arouse and intensify curiosity, designed to establish contact once again.
We may have been cut-off from direct, unpolluted contact with our Fountainhead, but The Source has not entirely lost contact with us. Coincidence is one of the languages of God.
I find myself sitting at my drawing board. I have no way of knowing how long the experience lasted. The sensation I’m experiencing is consistent with other visions and moments of “knowing.” A tingling sensation that seems to begin at the top of my head is rippling through my body. I’ve long associated this electric sensation as a confirmation of Truth. A November 10, 1981 journal entry is typical of many others. It reads:
If I can hold on to my trust and believe the feeling of truth that engulfs me when understanding occurs, a door will open.
This is a fair representation of the “visionary” experience from my point of view. Was it inspired, or just a figment of my imagination? Imagination is a powerful force. Are we the progenitors of imagination, or simply its progeny?
Hmmm. Good questions, eh? You got any answers?