"The death of a loved one can thrust in front of us
life's questions, creating openings for new understandings
and making us more receptive to synchronicity."
The Power of Flow, p. 41
Three years ago my
stepfather died. He was a very sweet man who loved my mom his whole
life, never marrying her until he was over 70. She had been married to my
father for many years and then divorced, moving us back to her hometown in
Nova Scotia. They lived together for 20 years. He and I weren't really
close, but I loved him for his gentle and kind ways and how he doted on my
mom. When he passed away I had to go to the hospital that morning to pick
up his personal belongings. It was still dark outside and on the drive
along the shoreline I noticed a bright star very low on the horizon. It
was so lovely. All that day I had the funeral to take care of etc and
exhausted I drove back to my home. On the way I noticed what appeared to
be the same star, again low on the horizon, twinkling so bright, and not
another star in the sky.
The next evening, I was called
by my stepfather's family and they asked if I would write the eulogy. Not
wanting to disappoint them, I agreed. For several hours I pondered about
what I would write. I sat staring at my computer screen completely blank.
He was such a simple man, nothing.....nothing.....And then I started
typing, it just FLOWED out of me. I was thinking about that darn
star, and for some reason I was comparing him to it. The morning and
evening star, one complete day in his life. A gentle soul so often
taken for granted and overlooked...All the while his beautiful simple
light had been shining for all to see. They were the most beautiful
words I had ever written. And looking back now I cannot take the credit,
as I was only the typist not the author.
When I read the eulogy at the
funeral, there was silence... and then they.... clapped. Afterward the
funeral director told me it nearly freaked him out. In all his years he
had never seen that kind of response. I was embarrassed with all the
people asking for a copy.
A few days later I had to
go to the cemetery to make sure the new plaque had arrived. My stepfather
had ordered it and paid for it along with the plot in 1968. It was his
choice out of all the designs available back then. I was stunned, to say
the least, when I looked down at the beautiful bronze plaque. Beneath his
name and date of birth was an etching of the evening sky with one bright
star. It still gives me chills. It makes me believe in the possibility of
My Father died in January 2010. I was very close to him
and we loved to talk about books and poetry. Since his death I have asked him for a sign that he is still about. There have been four occasions when my request has been answered and these are the only four times I have asked. The first two occurred when I asked him to let me have a sign with a Shakespeare play. I was lying in bed and just afterwards randomly switched on the radio and it was a Shakespeare play. On two occasions I have asked for the word "cusp" to be sent to me. This is a word Dad and I discussed just before his death. On each occasion the word has appeared within an hour on the TV. The last time was while I was driving home listening to Classic FM. I asked for the sign to be sent via "Your tiny hand is frozen," a piece of music Dad loved. The very next piece played was "Your tiny hand is frozen." These signs have given me great comfort and I am certain they are not mere coincidences. Dad is still with me.
My brother died unexpectedly at the
age of 43.
We were fanatic
golfers. The last course we ever played was in Palm Springs, California.
As was my custom, prior to our annual golf outing with our father, I wrote
a letter with humorous anecdotes. In the last letter I made up a story in
which we played with a famous person, Cheryl XXXX, on that course. It
turns out that was our last round together, ever. One year later, quite
by coincidence, I was invited to play in an event on the same course in
Palm Springs. We were scheduled to play with a popular actor, but at the
last minute he had to cancel. They filled the spot with Cheryl XXXX.
Kevin B., U.S.
Due to declining health Hilda, my wife's best friend, had moved to a distant
where her daughter could care for her. Several years later I was startled by a sudden thought of Hilda and asked my wife if she had phoned her recently. My wife replied it had been a while but she would call the next day. Before my wife could make the call, Hilda's daughter called to report that Hilda had died the night before. In her grief, my wife expressed her deep gratitude for the friendship that began when they supported each other through a time of mutual healing. About three years later my wife was in an intensive care unit where she remained unconscious for five days as her major organs began to fail. Near death, she suddenly awakened and began to recover. After-effects of some medical mistakes then required psychiatric treatment. I accompanied her on the initial visit to the doctor where she described her experience in the hospital and then revealed that when she was unconscious she began the process of dying which took her to another realm where she was met by Hilda. She said it was very peaceful and she wanted to stay there but Hilda told her it was not yet her time - that she had to go back because there were others who needed her. The doctor asked her if she thought that experience was real. She replied "As real as I'm sitting here". He then asked me if I believed it. I told him I did. He then said that he would prescribe medication that would help but strongly encouraged her to continue to pursue the spiritual aspect of her recovery (which she has). We have since spoken to others who confirm that they have never heard of a psychiatrist incorporating spiritual considerations in their treatment. My wife went to that doctor only because the one that had been recommended to her was unavailable.
My wife and I have always been aware of and tickled by seemingly random occurrences of psi phenomena but that string of synchronous experiences began a new and very fulfilling phase in our lives. It was only recently that, while watching a movie, we heard a passing mention of synchronicity associated with cosmology. Curious, I began researching it on the internet and was intrigued to discover that experts have found that synchronicity manifests in many studies, from human experience to quantum mechanics. During that search, I discovered the Flowpower site and in reading the experience of others have begun to glimpse the significance of this dynamic. I thank everyone for their contributions. Next question: Can we intentionally improve our grasp and ability to cooperate with the Flow?
Kirk Bready, U.S.
My 23-year-old brother died in 2007 of an apparent overdose.
I had three other siblings but I was closest with James; he was my little brother. I was just about to move into a new home at the time and it couldn't be postponed. I'm kinda grateful now that I had all that work to keep me busy in those first few days. I stayed up really late unpacking on the second or third night. I had been out on my patio for about a half hour with my husband, talking about everything that was going on. I looked up at the fence post directly in front of me and saw on owl sitting there. I never saw or heard him land and I'm sure I would have seen him if he had been sitting there all along. He hung out for a while, let out a call, and then flew off. He was so close, and loud, and his wing span was huge! We were both pretty taken by it because it's not like we moved out to the woods; we lived in a condo around the corner from a mall. The next day my nephews came to see the new place and I was telling them about the owl. My brother's three-year-old said, "Me and my Daddy have a owl; he sits on our fence." They lived about an hour away. His Grandma later said they called it the "hoot-hoot" owl. A little later I saw an owl on TV. Then I saw a picture of two owls in the dining room of a friend of the family's. I was seeing owls every day. I went shopping for some garbage cans and when I came to the register I saw one little plant sitting out of place like someone had left it there. I could tell the planter was shaped like a bird and knew before I turned it around that it would be an owl. I left with two garbage cans and a cool little owl plant. About a week had passed and I was in a bar. I was playing a game of trivia when the question came up: "When do nocturnal animals sleep?" Of course there was a picture of an owl on the screen. At the moment I answered the question my phone rang. My Mom was calling to tell me that she had talked to someone about my owl "sightings" and was told that owls are messengers and it was James letting me know he was okay. This experience was such a gift. I feel like he reached out and made contact; he gave me comfort and faith in the afterlife.
My mother passed away peacefully at 11:50 p.m. on October 10,
after a short and devastating battle with brain cancer. Her only sister and my cousin (her daughter) came to visit Mom about two months before she passed away. My aunt wanted so much to return before my mother's birthday on November 4 to see her one last time. Obviously, that wasn't possible, as Mom deteriorated fast and we knew she wouldn't make it. She died and her sister pleaded with my cousin to take her to the funeral, to no avail because she was just too frail to make the trip. The day of my mother's funeral viewing, my aunt fell in her bathroom, hit her head and the following day (the day of Mom's funeral) went into a coma from the injury. She died exactly one week, one day and one hour after my mother died. My cousin believes that my mom needed her beloved sister so much that she heeded the summons and left us.
This is the story of the death of my
born 11 weeks premature and weighing 3 kilograms (a great weight for a prem). I knew he would not make it as they were wheeling me in for my
caesarean. I knew because I had been having recurring dreams of a lady and
a man I know who were deceased taking a baby wrapped in blue away from me.
After the birth, he was on a respirator and the doctor said, “See, you
were wrong.” Two days later, they asked me to get a priest and bless him
because they thought he would pass with his lungs. . . . he did not. They
said he had turned a corner and would be okay. I started to doubt my
dreams. A few weeks later,,during a routine scan, he had a massive head
bleed. He had a poor prognosis, cerebal palsy, blind, and with my
permission they withdrew care. He died in my arms, with my best friend by
my side. He left his body through my hands and as he passed he morphed
into many faces -- old, young, it was amazing -- and as he left through my
hands he sent me an amazing calm and a knowing that set me on a spiritual
The night before he
died a little bird landed on my doorstep. It was ill, so we picked it up
brought it inside and cared for it. In the middle of the night, it sang,
and was dead in the morning. After my son’s death, I looked out the
hospital window and there was a dead baby bird on the window sill.
The hospital had a
board with names on it of patients. I did not notice it all week because
of obvious reasons. When I looked up after his death, it had my last name
and under it my friend’s last name. This happened again after my mother’s
death -- my last name and my friend’s right under it . . . she was never
in hospital. We got to the cemetery and two little plots were there -- my
last name on one and my friend’s last name on the other. . . .
Co-incidence? Not that many times....
One of my most vivid
experiences of synchronicity
occurred one night in January 1998. Only a month previously my son Michael
- who was my only child - committed suicide, after suffering with severe
depression for many years. As you can imagine I was totally grief
stricken...... and most nights found it difficult to sleep. One of the
ways that I would pass those dark night-time hours was by going to my
computer and logging-on to grief support newsgroups or a trivia game
channel that I found would distract me and relax me somewhat. On the
particular night in question, I had gone to the fridge to get a drink of
cold water (it is very hot here in West Australia at that time of the
year), and I noticed that there was a bowl of fresh cherries on the shelf
in the fridge. I poured myself a glass of water, put some cherries into a
bowl and went into my office, and sat down to play the trivia game. The
questions on the game are generated randomly and when I had logged in (and
I was the only player in the game at that time), the first question that
appeared was "Complete this sentence ....'Life is not a bowl of......"
My wife had started studying the
history of the surrounding area where
we lived. She had attained some books from the library which dealt
extensively with same. In these "history" books it was noted that someone
had brought a magnolia tree sapling up from Mexico around 150 years
previous. Also noted was the fact that this tree was still alive and
planted about 20 miles from our house. She got all excited and wanted to
go see this tree. I didn't think much about a trip to see a tree as the
area in which we lived was heavily forested. To see a tree all I had to do
was look out any window of my house. Maybe 2-3 weeks later while working
outside in my yard I was suddenly struck with the notion that I needed to
see this tree. My wife and I loaded up in my truck and set out. We had
almost arrived at our destination when I mentioned how pretty this area
was and word-for-word I stated,"I wish we could meet someone who could
tell us something about this area." We rounded a curve and there was the
tree, almost in the road.
My wife got excited
and said, Stop the truck. We got out and were walking around, and we had
been there about 2 minutes when a car approaching from the opposite
direction stopped. The driver rolled down his window and said, "Can I tell
you folks something about this area?" That got my attention. Turns out
this guy was a high-ranking ex-military retired deputy base commander for
a SAC (Strategic Air Command) base. His wife of many many years had just
died two weeks previous. He had sort of taken it upon himself to look
after this tree whenever possible. We talked about many things. One very
obvious thing was how suicidal this guy was. He could not mention his wife
without almost completely breaking down. My wife mentioned later on she
had noticed the same thing. He wanted to know how we had heard about this
tree. I told him about these history books. He said his wife had written
articles for these same books. I told him I would look them up. We swapped
phone numbers and went our separate ways.
night I looked in these history books for the first time. There were the
stories this fellow's wife had written. Also there was a picture of him
and his wife, very young. I called him on the phone. I said I had read his
wife's stories, and did he know about the picture? No, he had not known of
the picture. When I said I thought she had been very pretty, he went to
pieces. Bawling, crying, he said, "I don't know what I 'm going to do
without her -- I don't want to live without her. She took care of me all
my life --what am I going to do now?" etc. etc. I let him rant and rave,
then I started talking to him. I told him I didn't know what his beliefs
were, but my beliefs allowed for the possibility that she was still
helping him -- was still around looking after him. That calmed him down
somewhat. We talked some more. I called him back several times more until
I was pretty sure he was of a more stable mind.
E.C., United States
I met Shelly five weeks ago
when we began a law unit together. Of the
140 or so students somehow we latched onto one another and quickly built a
rapport. Yesterday something urged me to phone Shelly who explained that
she was feeling a bit knocked about and that among other things having to
find a new house was creating anxiety. I phoned my father, a real estate
agent, and arranged to show Shelly a property which had only become
available that day - in the hope it might make her feel she was moving in
the right direction more than anything.
I was surprised when Shelly
told me upon entering my car that she had had a difficult day at her brand
new job. There had been a death in custody relating to her work and it had
upset her. She relayed that it was further complicated by the fact (and
qualified by explaining this wasn't something she usually told people)
that her own brother had died in custody AND coincidentally exactly 5
years ago to the day. I commiserated and offered what always seem
inadequate condolences. I said "maybe it is his way of reaching you...."
Shelly then began to talk
about her brother and as I looked at her I suddenly had a realization. I
told her I didn't want to freak her out but that I had had a boyfriend who
was named Robbie, looked very much like her and who had died (I thought)
as a result of a shooting. I had only known the boy briefly 8 years ago
but he had impacted on my life quite considerably. Shared stories and
eventually a photo recognition proved the amazing coincidence was true....
BUT it did not stop there.
The car I was
driving Shelly in, I had only recently purchased from an old friend and it
was the vehicle Robbie and I had used exactly 8 years ago to the day (it
was a friend's birthday party we met at which was how I knew) - his almost
identical sister was sitting in the same spot he had years earlier. It was
all the more ironic because he had sat there lecturing me about the
horrors of drugs, and had eventually landed in jail because of them where
he then took his own life.
More and more
(what I call) 'low level' coincidences came to light. I was shaking and
generally in emotional upheaval at the cosmic magnitude of it all and at
the knowledge that this boy (whom I had cared about) had not been shot
after all but hanged himself in jail.
suggested to Shelly that it had been a long day, we laughed at her failed
attempt to escape the pain of the day with an objective new friend who
turned out to be relevant to the situation beyond either of our wildest
dreams. I asked her if maybe it would be better to leave the flat search
for another less upheaving time - but she insisted as long as I was ok she
would like to see the property. Amazingly we did not end up entering the
flat as it was in the block in which Robbie had last
We both feel (and without much need for
explanation really) that we have been brought together for some purpose
and by some force. There is intuition, synchronicity and metaphysical
intervention all at work here.
Phew... what a
week! Please explain my destiny, Universe! Are we to become fearless
attorneys crusading for prisoner's rights? Or was the day purely for its
own benefit - a comfort of significance for a grieving sister and a
misinformed lover? Who knows - but it sure didn't 'just happen' as some
idiots try and posit.
My father passed away,
taken from us with bone cancer. He was so cute. At the near end, he had
gotten so thin, frail and almost translucent-looking that the workers in
the Hospice Center called him "Peeps" because he was as sweet and cute as
a fragile baby bird before its feathers grew in. Dad never complained.
When we would walk into his hospice room (our daily visit for months) and
say "Hi, Dad...how do you feel today?" He'd just give you as much of a
smile as he could and say " I suppose I'm doing alright--how about you?"
He passed on a Sunday afternoon. We had all been there with him and
decided to go home to get a fresh shower, something other than hospice
food to eat, and a change of scenery for a short while.
As we were about
ready to go back, I noticed that my wind-up pendulum clock in the living
room had stopped and decided I would wind it up again when I got back
home. Once back at hospice we were stopped at the nurses' desk and told
that our father had passed away within the hour. He died at 12:20 p.m. --
the exact time my living room clock stopped ticking. There is no doubt in
my mind that he stopped that clock. He never liked the ticking sound it
|My father called me
and asked a strange
question: He asked not to be kept alive by machines if something happened
to him. I said " Yes, sure, ok." He was fit and tan and healthy, why would
he ask such a question? I got a call next day. He had a massive stroke,
and when I got there my sisters told me he was being kept alive only by
machines. He died two weeks later. I told them about the call. I had a
dream that we were dancing. My father was a good dancer, like many his
age. It was a fox-trot. An old song but I couldn't remember what it was. I
woke up and put on the coffee and turned on the radio. There was that
song! On the radio! I still couldn't remember what the title was. I called
the station. It was "Someone to Watch Over Me."
|My life as I have experienced thus far (being just 23) has
consisted of nothing other than aligned synchronicities....."coincidence"
as people would call it. How did I end up writing what I am at this
moment.....why did I even end up on this page? I've never been here
before...never looked for this page,....but ended up here because I
misspelled my destination.......
My mother has
always had this unusually strong connection with me...and is absolutely
convinced I was her best friend or "soulmate" whom she was "connected"
with since birth. His name is Ted McDonald.......and had grown up with mom
throughout her life. He was the same age as she but the trippy thing I
finally found out just five or six years ago was that he had died of
cancer on the same day , same year that I was born. I was born at 1:32
p.m. and he had passed officially at 1:30 p.m. the same afternoon......Mom
has always told me that if he were ever to come back he would want to be
with her. Well, here I am......for now.....
|I had a sister pass away on 1/13/96. In the week or two
before her death she said, "Watch for signs." She died at home. Prior to
her death she asked her husband to remove the 4-foot Christmas wreath from
over the garage. He never did. She left us about 4:00 A.M. When he went
outside, he found the wreath in the middle of the driveway!
I read Dannion Brinkley's book "At Peace in the
Light." When I finished I knew I had to get in touch with the Dannion. The
things he talked about in the book were the exact focus of my life at that
time. The information in the back of the book, about how to get in touch
with the author, directed you to an address in Scottsdale, AZ, where the
co-author lives, but I wanted to meet Dannion. The very next day I was in
Seattle for a meeting of The International Association for Near Death
Studies and overheard someone say that Dannion Brinkley would be at a
local bookstore the following Tuesday. He was also giving a workshop the
following Thursday. I went to both and have since met Dannion Brinkley
several other times. Each time you have the feeling you're the only one in
the room with him though there can be a line of hundreds of people right
behind you. I find him and his work with Hospice very
Norma Hissong, Olympic, WA.
My mom passed away in June of 1999. I was just returning home from New
York from her funeral with my daughter, son and daughter-in-law and was
seated on the airplane awaiting take off. Just as we were ready to leave
the ground I spotted a flight attendant who was so familiar to me it
caught my breath. I didn't know why he looked so familiar since I rarely
fly and I absolutely didn't know him. A short time later after take off,
he asked me if I'd like to watch the movie featured on the flight. I
declined. When the movie was over he stopped by once again just to ask if
I wanted a glass of water. I said, "Yes I would." That was the extent of
When he returned with the water, he also handed me
something wrapped in a cloth napkin and said "This is for you." Feeling
somewhat bewildered, I opened the cloth as he walked away and there was a
huge bottle of lovely champagne. I was rather startled to say the least. I
showed it to my daughter who had just returned from the restroom and she
said "Do you know him?" I told her I didn't. The next time I saw the
flight attendant I stopped him and said "That was very sweet of you but I
don't understand." He just looked at me and said "Just enjoy it and please
don't drink it alone. Drink it with someone you love." I was awestruck.
How many times have you been on a plane in the coach section when a flight
attendant gives you a bottle of champagne? I felt certain that it was a
message from my Mom just letting me know that she loved me and was with me
always. I took the bottle of champagne to the beach a few days later and
toasted my Mom over the water. It felt like the perfect way to drink the
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