Jung tells the following story as an example of a synchronistic event in his book Synchronicity:
By way of example, I shall mention an incident from my own observation. A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer (Cetonia aurata), which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
It was an extraordinarily difficult case to treat, and up to the time of the dream little or no progress had been made. I should explain that the main reason for this was my patient’s animus, which was steeped in Cartesian philosophy and clung so rigidly to its own idea of reality that the efforts of three doctors—I was the third—had not been able to weaken it. Evidently something quite irrational was needed which was beyond my powers to produce. The dream alone was enough to disturb ever so slightly the rationalistic attitude of my patient. But when the “scarab” came flying in through the window in actual fact, her natural being could burst through the armor of her animus possession and the process of transformation could at last begin to move.
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I’ve had such a strange life, words like synchronicity never really registered, but paranormal coincidences did, frequently. Today oddly, one came back to mind. It was 1981 just before another major NDE for me after surgery that would end the year and carry through to 1982. My ex first husband died, he was 41. l was told by phone and was immediately very upset, l never quite switch love off, l always take a part of those l’ve loved to keep inside my heart. No matter how badly they’ve behaved..we’d shared births and deaths together. He was amazing making and giving bottles, and disposing of placenta, and changing nappies so l could sleep. Telling our five children was the worst thing l ever had to do. Especially with their stepdad in the room. Even though the youngest two didn’t remember him, it was necessary to speak well of him, we’d loved each other once, and we both loved all five of them. Only two wanted to attend the funeral, and a lot was going on, l was working for my local paper as a trade and industry writer, and though it was a Sunday, l was in a client’s home interviewing him for a 1500 word piece l was writing for him for next evenings edition.. My second husband waiting in our car outside. It had to be done in time to go to print. I’d have it in tomorrow by 7am. I spent two hours with him, he wanted to talk about many things. I’d just finished taking notes, put my pad in my bag, and stood up to shake hands, and say my goodbyes to him, his wife, and two small children. Who’d all been very quiet during their daddy’s time answering my questions. Suddenly my newspaper’s client threw me right off balance, and told me the real reasoning behind the planned ‘event’ he was advertising on our front and centre pages, the event l was about to write 1500 words for, a religious festival he was putting on in our local major park. My childhood playground. He put something in my hand and l saw it was a front page headline, about me, but he didn’t know that, we’d never met, and that front page headline threw me back in time, it was eight years old. He said, “l’m a freelance minister of God, but my day job is as the new deputy housing manager for the local council, and l was going through old files when l came across this, it’s a case about a young mother who was involved in a possession, and it was very big news, made headlines, the Church of England got involved, a Bishop too, they called her a Medium, but Mediums are tools of the devil, charlatons, fakes, and l’m going to bring hundreds together to pray for this poor woman’s wretchedly tormented soul, she’s clearly possessed and we need to set her free from satan (l do not afford God’s enemy a capital title, by doing so, we recognise him) l quietly dropped it on his sofa, and said, “You quote your Bible well, but you don’t know your God! You are not God, that woman needs no help, l know, because I am that woman, and you don’t mess with things God resolved Himself!” His face, the shock, his wife’s face too, like l’d hit them both, they were stunned. So was l, but l’m better trained not to show it, too much life experience. I calmly left. Got back home, phoned my editor. “Neil do you remember that piece of 1973 (l quoted the headline my client gave to me) “written by blah de blah” (l named the very bolshy American journalist, who’d interviewed me for it. Neil was stunned, “Yes, but how did you know him, he’s long before your time Jeanette?” “Neil, I’m the subject of that piece he wrote, l only spoke to him on promise of anonymity remember?” Neil, the features editor, never knew my name other than Jeanie. But he remembered the storyline well. His voice was very calm, “Jeanette l never believed that story, but l do now, now l know it’s you!” He’d offered me the job as his trade writer two years earlier, after l gave him a thousand words on another subject, whilst touting for a job. But all they all knew about me, was that l was married and had five children, all in early and late teens. “He’s taken housing files, he’s got my name, he’s going to rally Christians to pray for my soul and he mustn’t Neil, he’ll invite trouble, he’s…” “Jeanette, it’s spiked, cancelled, dead, in the bin, gone, don’t write a word!” I sighed, he understood, unlike most people who claim to know about paranormal, and really don’t, he’d wanted to ask, but Neil, my editor and boss was a pro’, he never asked, and we passed on that one to this very day. Unlike to think him mature enough to know some things have no answers, only more questions, and they can lead to insanity if not quelled. A wasted interview? Not a bit of it, somehow God put me exactly where l needed to be, timed it all those years in, no one else but me would meet this man that day, is that synchronization?.l’ve smiled at God ever since, to this very day, l was the media he’d wanted to bring his message to, to use to get it out, about me, in, the only rag in town, and God was a step ahead if him all the time snd made sure he couldn’t raise Cain again. For me. Then next day l phoned the housing manager, Mr J, and he was great, l now owned not rented, he’d often wondered when they’d moved me out to safety in another rental, away from ghosts that wouldn’t die, that caused havoc and made me hit the headlines. “I’ve often wondered how you are, so good to know you’re happy!” He meant it. I thanked him. “You believed me!” “Yes, we all did, you’re too sincere and it’s too incredible to make up. You leave my deputy to me, he’ll be cleaning files not reading them in future. I’m truly sorry he did this to you, how amazing it was you who interviewed him though!” Amazingly synchronised yes? By the hand of one above, who always watched all if us, who can never ever be, not, ‘spot on’. And fully synchronised. He then told me that my old file would be put forever under lock and key which only he could turn. This was pre-computer days. He’s long dead, l’m getting there, most l knew are there, they have the answers, they’re all synchronised as well. And when l go, if there’s a way of numerously winding you all up in this site, trust me, l will, just to show you not only that l made it, that no one ever dies, but that my inner clock is synchronised to all of you red blooded Negatives! Apologies for any typos.
Thank you for your story, I really enjoyed it!!!
I recently ask God for wisdom, to understand the many things that I have often wondered about, and reading your story, answered a couple of questions that I had often
wondered about.
Thank you and God Bless!!!
Donna
Thank you for your kind words Donna, l’m so glad l’ve helped even in a small way to answer questions on the oddities of paranormal life experiences. More people have them than don’t, more people stay silent, than seek publicity. I believe all humans are psychic, some more than others. I’m of the opinion of a Chinese person who took my date and place and time of birth, and did a full Chinese horoscope on me, in 2002, and said that we live many times before we master all life’s lessons, and finally stay at home with God. I’d never found the real me in my Aries charts in British publications, it never guessed at all l was a Medium. I told no one, except to moan that they never got me right, and she ‘appeared’ in my discussion forum (first UK Asperger site l ran) and asked me for my data and weeks later, sent me a seriously full, page after page, chart that said l am a natural Shaman who’s lived many lives and am now on my last earthly incarnation. I never heard of Shamans before then. And she not knowing the Church of England called me a natural Medium back in 1973. I told no one in those days. It was a taboo subject. They called you ‘loony’ for it. But that chart answered all my unasked questions. So, on both sides of the globe l’m the same odd ball as well. I’ll share more as and when.l can. Or, Mike will bait me in! I’m a bit queasy and giddy currently.