Sync or Swim

I’m raw dogging this blog post. Absolutely no AI except Grammarly. At 40 years old, that’s the spirit with which I’m living; raw, myself, no bull. Now seems like a good time to mention I have a sailor’s tongue, which I get from my dad.

I sat down and had half a bottle of tequila with him over Labor Day weekend. Is it a rite of passage to get sloshed with your dad while your mom rolls her eyes and goes to bed? There always seems to be so much to catch up on and not enough time. I aim to remedy that; it’s just hard being accessible when you have a proclivity towards elusivity. A symptom of hyperindependence, I suppose.

I didn’t make a big production out of turning 40—not by previous standards, that is. And I think I’m leaning into experience: I find that at 40, you make a decision and execute. Simplicity is confidence. And I feel the universe is rewarding me in my newfound knowledge by showing me glimmers and moments of synchronicity. This is showing up in everything from books, to music, to moments like spending a Wednesday morning in Larkspur; ending up at the same restaurant patio as my friend and his family, and ambling into a thrift shop only to find two vintage art pieces in exactly the themes I’ve been looking for when just that morning I thought  “it would be nice to find some art today”. And then there are the numbers - ah, the numbers: three shows up frequently from people with the same birthday (always on the 3rd), as well as the number of people with the same name. Synchronicity is also showing up through strangers sharing phrases and sound bites of things I have briefly thought to myself. 

Synchronicity is a reminder that we are part of the design of time and space—an amalgamation of atoms and particles that dance in tune with the expanse of matter, in perfectly chaotic harmony. What a wonderful experience to be so aligned.

Remember this: above, below, within, without. A point, a moment, you.