October 2020 – Mesmarriah Miracle

6. The Catalyst – Part 1

It took me over five years of wondering and wandering to be led to find Carl Jung’s “Memories, Dreams and Reflections,” What had started that journey? I woke up, or more accurately, I was “awakened” by an encounter with another human being. It was a phenomenon that I’d been searching for an explanation for all those years. Jung’s bio was the first explanation of the process that was occurring in my normal human life. It also introduced me to his theory of synchronicity.

Here’s the thing: Just because I did not know what ‘synchronicity’ was, that did not mean it was not already occurring in my life. It’s sorta like, gravity was occurring in everyone’s life from Day One. It just took Newton to recognize it and name it! “Ah, yes, I think I shall call my discovery of the force that holds us to the earth, ‘gravity.’”

That’s what Carl Jung did. He recognized ‘synchronicity’ happening in people’s psychological lives. He saw that it had effects on their lives that helped or healed, and he named it!

I hadn’t heard about it, couldn’t name it, so it was only after I found Jung’s explanation that it hit me: “Synchronicity was what brought me smack dab into the path of The Catalyst that woke me up.” And here Jung was saying, “Synchronicity has meaning and purpose, meant just for you.”

I promised you a string, yes, string of synchronicities…Dot…Dot…Dot.

I worked for a music industry association that solicited memberships, and I was in charge of that department.
I read an announcement in an industry trade magazine that a specific company (across the country) made a change that now made them eligible for our membership. I dutifully sent a letter asking them, since they’d recently gained eligibility, wouldn’t they love to become a part of our association? (Yes, this was in the day we wrote and mailed letters.)
My boss saw the letter and pointed out with some irritation, “Why, this company is already a member and has been for a year.” What? How could they be—the magazine said they JUST now became eligible. She instructed me that I must write an apology letter post haste.
Before I wrote my apology, I read (in another industry magazine) that the person I’d addressed my letter to would be a speaker at a convention that I was also attending in Dallas. Coincidentally, (or should I say synchronistically?) I would be doing a presentation in the exact same workshop he would be speaking at. Perfect. I decided I’d just humble myself and make my apology in-person there. Face-to-face would be much more sincere than a letter, I felt.
I arrived at the convention, and with a certain amount of trepidation, made my way to the workshop room. I found the man and explained what I’d read in the industry magazine (as my excuse), and heartfeltly apologized face-to-face. He just laughed and said, “Oh, yeah, we put that letter up on the wall and threw darts at it.” End scene.
I made my membership solicitation presentation and returned to my room for the evening.
It was while whiling away my time in my room that some little voice, I swear, inside me kept running this statement through my head, “You need to get to know that person. You’ve got to get to know that person. If you don’t get to know that person, you’re gonna be mad at yourself.” It was just this silent thought, over and over, bugging me.
Being an introvert by nature, I don’t put myself out in people’s faces often—or ever. I wouldn’t deem to seek out a person I’d relatively insulted and humiliated myself in front of by not knowing they were already a member of my organization. I tried to ignore that repetitive thought running through my head, “you’ve got to get to know this person or you’re going to be mad at yourself.” (What did that even mean, ‘mad at yourself?’)
The next day, I really didn’t make any concerted effort in either looking for this person or to “get to know” this person. In the afternoon, the convention premiered a movie for us in the ballroom. After the movie, people were mingling in conversation groups around the ballroom. I was in one—this person ended up in another one close by. Now to note: there were over 2,000 people at this convention.
Occasionally he would comment from his conversation group to mine. I probably did likewise.
The hotel staff began the tear-down of the 2000 seats and movie screen/paraphernalia that had accommodated the movie. Eventually my conversation group, having conversed enough, began to dwindle away, presumably to get dressed up for the cocktail party on the agenda later that evening. His conversation group dwindled likewise. Unawares, it became just he and I. Talking. When next I became aware of my surroundings, an entire buffet of food and drink for 2000 had been set up around us (how long does that take???) and 2000 participants began remingling to partake of the goodies.
I didn’t have to follow my little voice telling me “you’ve got to get to know this person.” He found me. Did he have a little voice telling him the same thing?
He asked, “Are you married?” I said, “Yes.” I’d never seen nor met this man before, and yet I recognized him immediately.

We Are Living Our Myths

In just that one meeting, I began living the Sleeping Beauty myth.

Yes, because myth’s are the contents of (wo)(hu)man’s psyche, we live them in many recognizable ways. Myths came from us; they can be a roadmap for our living if we do the deep dive to understand the message we wove into them when we, ourselves, created the myths long long ago. Have you never wondered why ‘myths’ just stick around century after century? Clues. Roadmaps. Dots.

Every girl has heard the fable of “Sleeping Beauty” at an early age. It is the story of a doomed princess sleeping for 100 years who is kissed awake by the prince. Myth is metaphor. Looks like a fairy tale on the outside—an attraction that is felt with immediate and overwhelming alacrity. That’s just the facade. You have to delve to see what the message of the myth is. It is really ‘the Call.’ You have to recognize ‘the Call’ buried in the myth.

What is hidden in the Sleeping Beauty myth?

Awakening. That is the job of the prince in this particular myth—to kiss the princess ‘awake.’ The kiss is to awaken the princess back to Life. The call to awaken, for men and for women, can come in different ways. Sometimes it’s a catastrophic event in one’s life—a death of someone close—your own close call to death—a devastating change in your life’s plans—an illness or accident which forces you to totally re-form your life, or, in my case, a soul-deep love that hits like a bolt of lightning. There are many many ways that some Knowing Part of us issues forth the Call to ‘wake up.’

Wake up to the life you were supposed to live. Wake up to the big picture of why you are living. Wake up to a life of your own vs a life of living roles you learned to play to survive. So many of our myths have heralded these calls, wrapped them in dream-like images and sent them into forever…if we just decipher and heed their message.

Unbeknownst at the time, The Myth of Sleeping Beauty held ‘the Call’ for me. Kissed awake was the first step in finding my true Self.

In the myth, the prince represents the masculine principle that issues the Call for a woman, first to awaken to her own life, then to balance the feminine principle that the princess has been performing in her perfect-princess life-role. The feminine attributes of nurturing, caring, following all the rules, not getting angry, playing the perfect princess role—these all need to be integrated/wed with the masculine principle of standing on her own, having her own opinions, taking care of herself, speaking up for herself, upright, independent. That is what the ‘marriage’ of the prince and princess represents—the wedding of the masculine and the feminine. Whole is the goal…and two halves make a whole…the masculine and the feminine in every person. Just like in the myth, my Call began with a kiss.

I didn’t understand any of the real meaning to my immediate and complete attraction to this person at the time. Oh, no. Instead, I fell deep into the throes of being overwhelmed by the exact emotions and feelings evinced in that lovestruck fairy tale—heart-throbbing, head-over-heels. Didn’t know I’d just been kissed awake. Hadn’t had that “I-feel-like-I-just-woke-up-feeling” yet. No, this person felt like the end-all-be-all! Being human, not realizing my wakedom yet, I had no hint of this being an inner call. It just felt like a dang strong pull, outward, to the physical.

You might remember I posted a warning earlier? “Don’t be fooled into thinking the outward appearance is the end-all-be-all?” Sorry to say, I hadn’t learned that yet. I had heard the little internal voice telling me, “you’ve got to get to know this person or you’re going to be mad at yourself” before, but had not really acted upon it. Would there be a teeny tinier whisper of a voice inside trying to get through: “Is there more to this than what lies outward? Could there be a reason other than this physical soulfelt attraction?”

Remember, up to this encounter, I’d been asleep for 100 years—well, not quite as long as the fairy tale, but perhaps since birth, or perhaps since at some age, I took on the princess role that was expected of me. When you’re in the throes of physical, emotional, heart and soul attraction, can teeny tiny inward voices even be heard? Apparently some (eternal?) piece of me was awake just enough to plant the seed of that question.

I did not squash the question back down into my unconscious (an even darker, bloodier room—another myth we’ll get to). I let the question whisper to me, ‘is there more to this than just the man?’ I honored it by being quiet, listening, and feeling, because from somewhere in the deep came some quiet little ‘knowing’ that there was another reason we had met. I intuited that finding that reason might be long, drawn-out work. ‘Long, drawn-out, and unknown’ up against this feeling of immediate cosmic attraction! This was not a flip-the-switch-or-coin decision. It is not an easy task to be truly honest with yourself and choose accordingly. You bargain: Could it be both? The work and the man?

Waking Up Is So Very Hard to Do.

The Catalyst – Part 2

5. Synchronicity Dropping Dots.

When you wake up to Life, you’re looking for any breadcrumbs that might give you a clue. You are for all practical purposes in a foreign land and making your way forward as best you can on sheer curiosity and stamina and determination. You have questions, lots of questions and looking hard for some answers. While ‘living some distant day into the answer’ may be comforting, it is hardly a boon for patience!

You wait. You go with the flow. You let time pass which is required to prove your patience. Your energy is directed forward, and energy put forth creates. All of a sudden, you’re rewarded with a leg-up, a fast forward, an ‘aha’ moment that sends your entire energy system into hyperdrive!

Finding Synchronicity Synchronistically.

I can’t show a montage of pictures to indicate “time passes” like they do in movies, but time had been and was passing. Somewhere between five and seven years since I ran into The Catalyst that jolted me out of being asleep. I’d skipped through the music industry, hit a lick in television production. By this time, I had ‘flowed’ into being a writer by occupation–albeit marketing/advertising–but I was realizing I could write. Part of me even felt in all the repetitious projects, I was obediently doing my “sums” or “times tables.” Rote. Writing dust jacket flap and back cover copy for a national publisher was teaching me to take a lump of clay, shape and mold it into a piece of art capable enough to sell a book. Again and again. Lump. Art. Rote.

Being freelance, I had a certain control over my own time. As long as I met deadlines, sure, I could take some time off.

It was a sunny day, with no deadlines looming, so I packed my ever-present notebook and pen, some books, and a bite to eat for a leisurely drive down The Natchez Trace to revive spirit and soul. Fifty miles per hour limit, shady, curvy, hilly, lovely overlooks. I stopped here for an overlook, there for an historic marker, ending up at Meriwether Lewis Death and Burial Site. Yes, that Meriwether Lewis of Lewis and Clark, the adventurers who mapped out this virgin and unknown land.

I read. I wrote. I sat under a big tree beside the flat markers of the Pioneer Cemetery there. I toured the grounds, read the intriguing but brief signs indicating that while Lewis was killed at this place, it was uncertain as to the circumstances—intruder/murder or suicide? I’m not sure why I was so fascinated with the ambiguity and mystery of his death at this place, but it was such that I vowed I was going to get more details and draw my own conclusion.

Upon my return to civilization, I went immediately to the library (yes, this was in the day of the library and I was into Books). To the Biography Section (in alphabetical order by subject). Here’s the default setting of a book lover: if you’re gonna get one book in the L’s for Lewis, why not one in the J’s for James Joyce and, what the heck, here’s a name I’ve heard somewhere before here in the J’s, Carl G. Jung.

I made short shrift of James Joyce—he was just too far out for me to identify with his life whatsoever. I didn’t even bother to finish that book.

I formed my own opinion about Meriwether Lewis’ death after reading his bio—murder, not suicide. A couple of reasons. First, The Trace was a boon to highway robbers as it was the way home by land for men who had floated their crops down the Mississippi to sell and they were carrying cash. Second, Lewis was a mere 34 years old and headed back to Philadelphia to edit a book on his great expedition; I felt no one with as adventurous a spirit as he exhibited would have taken his own life as was hinted at in those oblique signs posted at the park.

Then came time for the Jung book, Memories, Dreams and Reflections. (Did I instinctively save the best for last?) It was the next turning point in my life, a whole loaf of bread, forget the crumbs! It was a lighted beacon in my stumbling, asking-questions darkness. In today’s vernacular—“OMG!” In the vernacular of that day, all I could utter was ”This man’s been readin’ my mail.”

The things he wrote about were delineating what I’d been experiencing since “I woke up.” It was more than just confirmation and validation. He gave me the “Why” that I so desperately craved. I would read a passage—“yes!’—and get up and run around the house to expend the excited energy that was pulsing through me! In my journal, I noted: “…reading his bio was exhilarating; I kept saying, ‘wonderful,’ ‘wondrous,’ ‘thank you’ because it was so re-affirming to me.” I had lived some distant day into an answer—answers, in fact! I was getting lots of clues, answers, reaffirmations, validations, new information—check check check! Fast forward propulsion! Hyperdrive!

Connecting the Dots:

If I hadn’t laid out from writing assignments to take a day off; if I hadn’t ended up at Meriwether Lewis Park on my drive; if I hadn’t stopped, got out, walked the park; if I hadn’t been intrigued enough by Lewis’ death to go to a library and get a book not only about him but, what the heck, how about some guy named Carl Jung; and then that book telling me about EVERYTHING that had been happening to me in my new “awakened” state (in the past five years)…

I’m sorry, but that just does not happen by accident, now, does it?

That’s called Synchronicity. Incarnate.

Think of it—finding answers I was seeking for years…in a book…because I went to a park and was curious about Meriwether Lewis. There’s no cause and effect. Synchronicity—two things linked with no common causality.

Synchronicity Marks the Dots for You.

Synchronicity, or meaningful coincidence as some timid people are wont to call it, is a flaming coincidence that even you can’t ignore–and it has a message, a meaning, especially for you. If you recognize Synchronicity occuring in your life, stop and ask: what is it underscoring for me? Something here has meaning and importance. What am I to see? Of further mention here: Synchronicity seems to become more prevalent when you ‘wake up’ and start ‘seeking’ or asking your questions of Life. Or, maybe it’s just because you are now ‘awake’ and noticing it.

First, synchronicities are only seen by those with wide-open eyes that see and only heard with ears that hear (that’s biblical!) Second, you have a feeling like it’s a connection with some unseen helper who’s in on the journey with you. Third, it’s like an underscore—you know, like when you underscore or highlight a passage that has meaning and significance to you? That you want to remember. It may give you new information on your Life, that “aha!” moment, a light-bulb going on. Many times it reinforces something you just learned about yourself, an affirmation, so-to-speak, that you got it right and are headed in the right direction. But it always makes you feel connected to something bigger, something benevolent that’s laying down a few breadcrumbs for you to follow on your way to safety. When you experience Synchronicity in your life, look around. There’s a Dot dropping somewhere!

If it hadn’t been for a string, yes, string, I tell you, of synchronicities,

I would never have met The Catalyst that woke me up.

If you’re new to Mesmarriah Miracle, it’s best to start at Post #1 and

continue in numbered sequence, like Connecting the Dots.

4. Clinging I Shall Die of Boredom.

“It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life.”
“The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. The damned thing in the cave that was so dreaded has become the center.”
Joseph Campbell, “A Joseph Campbell Companion,” p. 24

I’m sure I got the flow seed planted after reading Richard Bach’s “Illusions.” It was a Dot for sure (he dropped several of them in that book). I can’t be sure if it was dropped just before, after, or coincided with the event of My Catalyst. Reading the book was easy, especially when he hooked me with the very first words, “There was a Master come unto the earth, born in the holy land of Indiana…” (my home state—how could I not read on!)

There is the part in the intro where he talks about the creatures in the river who “cling” as a way of life. Then one creature decides he’s going to let go and see where the crystal river takes him, because, clinging he shall surely die of boredom. He trusts that the river knows where it is going, and so (with much fear and admonishment from his peer clingers) he let go to go with the flow of the river. A Dot dropped and I was in the ‘let it flow, let it flow, let it flow” mode.

Or, maybe my entire life was a part of ‘let it flow,” and I just had to recognize and name it.

In the age of career specialization I was a generalist. Dig deep into just one career path? No. I would try one career path, be there long enough to see behind the curtain and opt out. I was a systems analyst for Blue Cross-Blue Shield because someone recognized I was a problem solver, organized, efficient, and could manage people. An industrial psychologist who tested all BC-BS management said, “You ranked in the 94^th Percentile of Upper Level Male Managers, BUT, you have no goals to be president of BC-BS”—as if that were a bad thing. He was right—I certainly did not have goals of becoming president of BC-BS. I opted out.

I moved to the country music industry because my husband wanted to be a songwriter. We moved to Nashville so why shouldn’t I be in the music industry also? Three years with a major record label run with a mafia-management style of rewards and punishments, and I opted out again. Seeing behind the curtain is always eye-opening—and a test to see just how much you’re willing to pay for the pretense.

I left it to fate (aka the flow) to take me to my next career, and my organizational skills took me to becoming Associate Producer (the logistics person) for a new television show. Out of the music business, and into television. One season of organizing and logistics, and I decided I could write the show, too. I did two sample scripts, and the producer who had hired me for my organizational abilities, agreed. Soon I was a writer—television, print, marketing, publishing—writing for anybody who would hire me to hone my skills. Just going with the flow, where the flow would take me.

Jump. It’s Not as Wide as You Think. (Or) There Are No Pumas

Let’s just say “waking up” sets you up with lots of questions…lots…of…questions! Try and describe that to friends and about all you’ll hear is, “Awake? Of course you’re awake. You’re talking. There’s no question there.” Hard to explain unless you’ve been there.

Questioning—especially the “Why” question—and “seeking answers” is trying, anguishing work, and most times tinged with a bit o’ fear (hence why it’s “the road less travelled”). Looking inward for answers to questions can be especially fearful because somehow we innately ‘believe’ we’re hiding some sort of monster inside. (I have yet to determine where we got this—unless it’s the deeply ingrained ‘original sin’ that’s been taught us by a loving church.) We fear if we dare peek inside, we’ll let loose the monster on the world. Some sort of beast is hidden inside! We’ll be out of control!

Yes, I know this from personal experience. I have feared the monster and asked that exact question.

When working with a wonderful counsellor whose name, Mrs. True, said it all, I had begun to feel good about myself—getting self-esteem can do that for you. I remember specifically asking her (because I felt good), “Aren’t you afraid you’ll create a monster (meaning me)?” She just laughed and reassured me, “No, I just want you to throw back that curly hair of yours and laugh.”

Please believe me, I have looked: There are no monsters inside. It’s ok to look.

I believe that is why so many people are afraid to ask questions of themselves, to look inside. They fear they will face pumas in the crevasse. (That’s an old Smothers Brothers routine—Tommy Smothers was afraid of the pumas in the crevasse, and his brother had to convince him, “There are no pumas in the crevasse, Tommy”—for those who are wondering where that came from…or for those who may remember!) I chose to believe Dickie Smothers! (That was a Dot dropped waaaay back!)

Asking questions of Life and looking inward for answers, yes, that requires facing the (phantom) pumas in the abyss (or crevasse). Joseph Campbell came through again, reassuring me with this myth:

“A bit of advice
Given to a young Native American
At the time of his initiation:
As you go the way of life,
You will see a great chasm.

Jump.
It is not as wide as you think.”
― Joseph Campbell

Dick Smothers would add…’and there are NO PUMAS in the crevasse!’ Those are the pumas we fear are lurking inside us if we ever look. (Who knew Dickie Smothers was a mythologist!)

Reassured by both Dickie Smothers and Joseph Campbell, jump I did. More asking. More seeking. More questioning. More reading. More learning. More dreams. More Dots. A whole lot of “Why me’s?” because answers were slow in coming. (Patience, remember?) Some bon-a-fide gnashing of teeth involved. A good friend who’d listened to me gnash teeth, wail, found a poem and gave it to me as salve. It came first as “Anon” but, as the poem itself told me, I would ‘live along some distant day into the answer.’ I would find its true source.

I magnetized it to my refrigerator.

Have you heard the term, Synchronicity? We’ll get more detail on it later. It’s a term that pops up again and again when you enter the forest on your own path. Synchronicity may feel more like a breadcrumb you find on your way, assuring you that you’re on the right path home. A few years, yes, years, after receiving this Anon poem, another friend gave me a book as a birthday gift, “Letters to a Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Rilke. In that book was the very verse that was on my fridge:

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart

and try to love the questions themselves,

like locked rooms and like books

that are now written in a very foreign tongue.

Do not now seek the answers,

which cannot be given you

because you would not be able to live them.

And the point is, to live everything.

Live the questions now.

Perhaps you will then gradually,

without noticing it,

live along some distant day into the answer.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke

Salve for an anguished heart for sure. It was like getting a primer for learning a new language and here was my first translation. Love the questions themselves. Locked rooms. Books in a foreign tongue. Live everything. Reaffirmation that I was not alone in the experience I was having. Others had gone before me and were dropping their own Dots and breadcrumbs for me to follow and be encouraged by. And somehow, they would make sure I found the ones I needed. How could I not trod on?

The original Anon paper stayed magnetized to my refrigerator for years til it had stains and curled edges. It reinforced for me that, indeed, I would ‘live along some distant day into the answer” (and answers) that I sought.

Synchronicity… A Dot dropped one year connected to a Dot a few years later. Check-Check.

How I Found Synchronicity Synchronistically.