I’ve always believed that when a person, a name, a place, a sign, an idea comes before me again and again and again, that’s the universe trying to tell me something.
Years ago, my best friend Katie bought me a book about Jewish meditation – but I have yet to crack open the cover. A few weeks ago, another friend told me in-depth about her meditation practice and channeling – which inspired me enough to visit this site.
Then last night, at V’s Red Tent, I was handed a piece of paper imploring me to “live consciously, live deeply,” which said the following:
You are about to embark on a journey
a soulful journey
a sisterhood of connection
a safe haven
…our angels and universal guidance assist us
The journey is within – I need intention, community, a place to begin…
This paper was given to women at the last meeting, where they meditated to beckon the spirits of women past and present to join them on their journey.
In the past six months, two women named Lynn and one named Carolyn have walked into my life (each spelling her name differently). I am in touch with at least three Jims these days. And my youngest child’s middle name, Matan, is the most common word in my house. The kids use it as everyone’s second name – Mommy Matan!
Lynne (Lynn, Lyn) means near a lake – a body of water is symbolic of the circle of life, the womb, nurturing, women.
Jim, short for James, means supplanter in Hebrew.
Matan is Hebrew for gift.
I’m not yet sure what everything means, but I believe very much in signs. Years ago, as I approached college graduation and planned to move to New York, my father gave me the phone number of a friend’s daughter on the Upper West Side. She was looking for a fourth roommate, so I called – but when she told me she kept kosher and observed Shabbat, I said it wouldn’t work. I was as far from religious as could be.
That happened several times, until one day I was hiking in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming with a Gentile lover, and spent the entire eight-hour hike extolling the virtues of observing the Jewish Sabbath.
Back then, I ignored every mention of or introduction to religious Judaism. But the idea kept cycling back before my eyes. I eventually spent 10 years committed to living that way because I found it compelling and inspirational.
Although I’m not strictly religious anymore, I am deeply spiritual and somewhat observant. The signs kept coming until I was ready to hear the message fully.
So now, with my ever-active sixth sense, I wonder what the conflagration of signs are trying to tell me. If I meditate, whose voice will I hear?