In time

A well venerated wrist: two bracelets made by my son, beads of jade offered by my ''petite-cousine''

 and a watch from my family on my birthday last year.

''En temps voulu''. 

In due time, life happens. And rarely, if ever, have we any control over it. Three days ago, very aware that I was just a few hours away from the summer solstice and then the full moon, I felt excited to see what this co-occurrence taking place about every 20 years would bring or mean energetically as I was facing some heart dilemmas. As I was looking for a screening test for covid in my bathroom for someone else, I discovered 2 colorful rubber band bracelets and an adorable heart that my son Youri had made years ago. This made my morning. I have been discovering a few here and there at different times since I moved in this house and really unpacked this time, but I didn't expect finding more. He had also made some cute veggies (carrot, tomato) that unfortunately disintegrated because of the heat. I had to throw them away but took a picture before doing so. I am still in awe that he was so talented with the loom as a tween. Fortunately, these 3 items were still intact, maybe because they had been downstairs, where it never gets too hot even in this weather.

I thought it was interesting that a few weeks prior, I had been sad to lose a tiny amber heart pendant right before Andreas' middle school promotion ceremony. I was hoping that this was not symbolizing a lost love or something. 

Youri's creations with rubber bands.

So finding this vibrant heart from my talented son gave me some comfort.

Not so long after that, as I was making some important phone calls between patient video visits, I heard a ''boom'' in the living room, just on the other side of the wall where I was sitting, at the small kitchen table. My first thought was that it was a frame that had fallen on the floor, maybe due to some vibration (construction work in the area ?). Instead, I was surprised to discover the chute of two small paperback books: one a novel I had bought over 15 years ago and never read, and the other, an art book on Toulouse-Lautrec in Italian (again, which I had been moving countless times, shelfed, de-shelfed, packed and re-shelfed, but never really paid real attention to). It seemed like their pages had suddenly become wings.

The scene of a mysterious flight.

I just wondered if this was a sign or if one of those books contained the key to lead me on a path of wisdom to solve some of my dilemmas ? I immediately told my cousin Gabriel, a luminous being with a contagious laughter who so attuned to life that a cow and recently, a butterfly, befriended him. Of course, he completely shared my bemusement and excitement. I decided to start reading Le Grand Meaulnes that same evening. Upon paying closer attention to the original location of the two books while writing this blog, I realized that it was a 17-yo acneic me who was facing them, and they were near a double golden doorknob that was in my grandpa's basement or workshop and that I inherited after he passed.

And now that I look at the picture where they landed, the novel fell on a failed attempt at drawing my youngest son from a picture taken during a class trip and while he looked so happy holding a snake. Is the book trying to get my attention, to remind me to persevere, keep drawing, no matter how unsatisfied I may feel about sketches ? 

Two small books eloped from their location of several months. What could this possibly mean ?

When I was little, we lived not far from an eccentric couple who became friends of our family (the man was my dad's partner of their law office, and the woman was a teacher, like my mom). I spent a lot of time in their house that had something enchanting despite being childless, always so messy, with piles of laundry, unmade beds, wobbly rails that caused my then 2-yo brother to fall from the main floor to the basement, and spiders in the bidet. The rococo style of their bedroom might have been a symptom of their wealth for some, so they had an alarm system like most people who thought they possessed too much stuff worth stealing, like the other few privileged households in the late 1970s. One day, I was told the alarm system went off. It was determined that there had been no robbers, but the culprit was me: in the form of my portrait hanging on one of their walls and that fell. Of course, it was easy material to make jokes about (and my dad would never miss an occasion to make fun of any situation), and even though at the time I thought it was strange for a frame to spontaneously fall, I didn't make much of it. Now, with my recent book escape episode and other times of spontaneous fragmentation of fragile stuff that left me rather perplex, I am more curious about the subtle or intangible world more than ever. And I will have to ask my dad, with his phenomenal memory, if he remembers the specific picture of me (what age) that was cause for alarm.

I might not find any answers, but I will stay attuned to phenomena once discarded as random. I am fundamentally curious, I believe there are more energetic connections in this world that we might want to admit, and if anything, it is a source of entertainment and inspiration. 

What messages has your environment been trying to send you and that you have yet to decode ? Keep a journal of them. Maybe one day you will connect the dots, just like it may take decades to diagnose a condition, after years of puzzling , seemingly unrelated manifestations.

I am not good at taking pictures of goddess full moon but here it is.