I’m in a small country church. Someone turns off the electric lights. The full moon illuminates the chapel with soft apricot-toned light. Then they open a window to let night air in. I feel lonely for Vic and struggle with tears. I sit quietly in moonlight and let myself feel sad.
A week later, I shared dinner with friends at their home. After our meal, we spoke about dreams and decided to paint. With watercolors and my limited skills, I painted a full apricot moon outside a tall window.
I turned to face the large window behind me and saw an illuminated orange-pink UFO hovering on the horizon across the valley. The dome lit up the dark night sky.
“It’s the moon,” I said, glancing down at my painting. “The magic moon.”
We turned out the lights and watched the moon inch her way upward. We watched silhouettes of towers and buildings appear and disappear.
It was clearly a synchronicity, the meaningful simultaneous occurrence of inner and outer events with no obvious causal relationship. For those of us who have the teachings of Carl Jung deep in our bones, the keyword for synchronicity is meaning. In this case, the same image appeared in a dream, a painting, and the most awe-inspiring full moon I’d ever seen. So what was the message?
For a year, I’d spun a busy world of doing. I lived by outer goals. I gave readings or workshops about my book, created a TEDx talk, submitted articles, was interviewed, and planned trips. Was I measuring up? Was I doing enough? Was I fast enough? Hopeless questions, since it’s never enough when I measure the value of life through the lens of outer achievement.
My life wasn’t always like that.
After Vic died, grief slowed my world. I sat in silence on the back deck and watched sunsets. On full moon nights, I walked through the fields under muted light. I tried to accept my new life and Vic’s death as part of the Great Mystery.
During that time, I dreamed most nights and recorded the messages. I walked many times a day, tended my gardens, and watched Nature’s cycles. Beneath lonely grief, I felt a sacred presence holding me.
It was a time to be, not do. Nothing to wait for, nothing to fear, nothing to accomplish. I watched the nesting bluebirds and the growth of plants. Grief banished the taskmaster who lives by computer screens and florescent lights, the one who is always in a hurry and would rather write one more word than pause to breathe or watch the stars against the night sky.
The Moon Goddess asked me to shift my focus back toward Her mystical light and Her measured pace. In moonlight, flaws are obscured, lists can’t be read, and judgments fall away. She thrives with candle light, long walks, gentle night breezes, and a quiet unhurried flow. She wants me to attend to Her slow inner rhythm.
“Be with Me,” She says. “Be with the part of you that learned the lessons of grief and mortality. Be with waxing and waning, arriving and leaving. There is nothing more important and nowhere to go. I’m the feminine mystery of this ever-cycling life. Be still and rest in me.”
I welcome any insights you have about this. I’m trying to slow down and change my focus, but it isn’t easy. Action is addictive. I’d also love to hear your synchronicity experiences.
For more about the importance of dream guidance, you’ll enjoy When Dreams Tell Our Future. If you’d like to know more about synchronicity, I recommend The Sacred Laws of Psyche by Jean Raffa. I also recommend my husband Vic’s first book, Synchronicity, Science, and Soul-Making.