Apparently, once I wrote a blog post called Blinded by the light.
It must have been a long, long time ago because the memory of writing this is now covered in darkness.
On Monday morning I quickly signed into WordPress before going to work, re-read the previously written blog about Dying on Facebook, and skipped over to the stats page to discover who might have visited previously.
Turns out four people had visited this ancient long-ago Blinded by the Light post.
I noted it, duly forgot, and headed to work.
A deer grazing by the side of the road caught the bright glare of the car’s headlights and stood frozen.
Simultaneously the radio began to play the song: “Blinded by the light…”
It’s moments like these that we feel the presence of the Divine, don’t we?
We feel like something beyond our rational mind might–just might–be in control.
Or perhaps that Something just dances with us.
Sometimes we can play with the hidden messages embedded within the synchronicity. That’s what I used to do for years. Would analyze what the Universe attempted to get through this thick skull with this unexpected message.
For example: You need to be blinded by the Light of the divine, Kathy. Wake up! Or: you are so blinded by some light, you had better blink. Or: Pray for those who need light in their lives. Or: Pray for deer. Or: How many years are you going to remain blind? Or: Open to the dark as well as the light. Or, Or, Or!
Now I just smile and realize that, in some ways, it’s just Row, Row, Row Your Boat~~Life is but a dream.
I have kinda been “blinded by the light of creativity” lately. There has been this vigorous energy to share, share, share! Write, write, write! Day after day this impulse arises and I indulge it.
I ceased even to worry about what others might think–how they might think this is “all too much” or they “can’t keep up with reading” or whatever the mind is projecting. Then *almost* ceased to worry about how I can’t keep up with other people’s blogs when I’m creating so incessantly.
The usual pattern is write, write, write, write for days and weeks and maybe months at a time and then…mercifully or unmercifully…everything goes silent and it’s time to skip off to a quieter retreat, a quieter fallow time where the mind can cease telling stories. (Maybe even soon? Who knows?)
I’ve always admired people who aren’t conflicted about when and whether to share. There’s always a part of me that wants to share, share, share and another part which wants to embrace quiet and silence and solitude. Will the two parts of self ever fully resolve? Does it even matter?
We’re all blinded by the light of our own passions at times, aren’t we? Like a deer in the headlights we can but stare mesmerized at what Life presents us every shining moment.
What light shines in your eyes these days? Have you experienced any magical synchronicities?