Approaching the Halloween season, again the veil wears thin. This weekend several events transpired that demonstrate our connections, prove that we are indeed one with the fabric of existence, experiencing this reality as separate, yet integral individualities. I admit I am drawn to the Matrix series of movies (inside the plot somewhere is some truth about our spiritual reality), so every now and then, I re-watch the trilogy. I was toward the end of the first movie, when Neo had just defeated his first agent, Trinity asks, “Where is he?” Tank responds, “I don’t know. I lost him.” Before this, perhaps a second before this was said in the movie, my daughter Juniper is at the front door of our house, yelling to her mom outside, saying, “I don’t know. I lost him.” Ok, you say, so that’s a nice coincidence. Just wait, the plot thickens.
An hour later, Oliver is around the corner from me. I was in the kitchen and he was in the living room. He says out loud, “Daddy?” Immediately, my mind is hit with an image of Oliver coming up to me and sticking his cold hands under my shirt and placing them on my stomach. This is not something he normally does. “Yes?” I respond. He comes around the corner and stares me in the eyes, “Daddy, can I put my cold hands on your stomach?” Shocked into submission by my previous vision, I acquiesce to his ridiculous request. After all, I knew it would happen anyway, somehow.
Flash forward to the next morning. It’s Saturday, game day, and both our kids have soccer games this morning. “How do you think you guys are going to do today?” I ask Juniper. “Great dad. We’re going to kill them five to zero!” “Nice confidence, but let’s not use the word kill, Juniper.” Now, the entire season has gone by and this is their final game. They have not beaten any of the other teams in their league; lost all games but one in which they tied, so an outcome of five to zero would not be an expected thing. Except I saw it in her eyes, and when I heard the words out of her mouth, I somehow knew she was correct, they would win five to zero. The game went three quarters, and I was proud that Juniper in the first quarter had given the other team’s goalie his first save of the game, from her kick. Other than that, there had been several close ones, from both teams, but no scoring. Enter fourth quarter. Five goals in a row from our team, but still two more minutes to spare. If momentum had its way, then the score would end up being seven to zero, not five. It was not to be, five was the limit, the requirement and the truth, predicted, fulfilled. Now, even though Juniper didn’t make any of those goals, she was still just as happy as if she had, at the end of the game.
Had enough? Nah. One more. The next event later that day was Oakland’s Halloween Carnival which we’ve attended the last few years. Kids in costumes, games, prizes, fun. Holda and Oliver were off to the cake walk line, while Juniper and I cruised the floor, fishing, bowling, and rolling dice for candy and prizes. When we returned to see Oliver standing on a number at the end of the song, they drew a card. If that card matched his number, he was the winner. There were about 7 other kids walking around the circle as well, equally in the game. However, when Holda walked up and saw that they had placed Oliver to start on the number five (my favorite number), she immediately knew that he would end up on the number three (her favorite number) at the end of the game and win. So, when they drew the number nine, one would think Holda would have second thoughts about winning. When I asked her about this later, she said, “No, honestly, my first thought was that there must not be anyone on number nine, since I know Oliver is on number three and is going to win.” Sure enough, no one was on number nine, the next number they drew was number three, and the rest (nine cupcakes later) as they say, is history, and in this case, herstory too!