By Larry Romanoff for The Saker Blog
I was moved to write this essay because of an odd circumstance that occurred to me on Friday (Sept. 10).
Part 1: In downtown Shanghai, there is a magnificent Buddhist temple (Jing’An Temple) separated from a shopping mall by a pedestrian walkway. Across the street is a large park with a small lake (a pond, actually) hidden in its center, and on the shore of the pond is a Thailand restaurant. About two years ago, a friend invited me to this restaurant for lunch. The setting was pretty, but the restaurant wasn’t exceptional and I wasn’t fond of the food and so had no intention of returning.
Part 2: I keep an office near the Temple, and on Friday I was at my desk working on some research when the thought of this restaurant popped into my mind, but I couldn’t remember its name. I thought about it for a moment, but had no particular interest and so dismissed it. Ten or fifteen minutes later, the thought returned. I considered the topic again, and confirmed my first conclusion that I didn’t much like either the restaurant or the food, had no intention of returning and thus didn’t care to remember the name. I returned to my work, but ten minutes later the thought returned again. I dismissed it again but it returned yet again. The damned thing refused to leave me alone. I finally surrendered, did a brief search on the internet and found the name of the restaurant. No result, but no further interruptions.
Part 3: A few hours later, I left my office and was walking through the pedestrian walkway near the Temple, as I regularly did, when I noticed a group of four foreign women (American, I think) standing at the side. When I came near, one of them turned and saw me and came running over. She said, “Please can you help us? We’re trying to find a restaurant. Everyone tells us it’s very near, but no one can tell us how to get there.” I replied, “I don’t know. What’s the name of the restaurant?” And of course, it was the same restaurant I’d just looked up on the internet.
The ladies’ version of the story would have been that they were lucky to find someone who could direct them to the restaurant, but it wasn’t quite so simple as they might have imagined. Of course, one trivial event is proof of nothing at all, but when I lived in Italy I kept for seven or eight years a daily diary in which I recorded anything of interest and, leafing through that diary later, I discovered I had recorded literally hundreds of such incidents. They were all different, but in some sense were all the same. Each required a bit of uncommon ‘luck’ or perhaps magic, for its fulfillment. Some were brief and quickly executed, while some were protracted and more complicated. Here is a more complicated example, from my time in Rome:
The Lost Boy
In Rome I lived in a primarily residential area facing on a small piazza with a fountain in its center and ringed with coffee shops, a hotel, a basilica and other buildings. One evening at a small outdoors table at a sidewalk coffee shop I saw a young Chinese boy, perhaps 15 years old, sitting all alone after the coffee shop had closed. He was still there the next morning, with his head resting on the table and I wondered if he had spent the night there. I tried to speak to him, but he knew no English nor Italian and conversation was impossible.
He was still there late that evening and also again the next morning, and it now seemed evident he had spent the night there. I knew something was wrong, though I had no idea what that might be, but I couldn’t leave him there. Conveniently, my favorite Chinese restaurant was only a few hundred meters from my home, so I gestured with him to come with me and took him there in the hope they might help him.
But the people in the restaurant couldn’t understand him. China has many hundreds of local dialects, many being similar but some being very different languages existing only in remote mountain valleys and intelligible only to residents of that valley. This lad apparently spoke only one of these local dialects, the manager telling me he could understand only a few words. But he said a girl who worked in his kitchen was from a different part of China and that perhaps she might understand him. The girl would arrive for work in perhaps half an hour, so he brought me a coffee and we waited for the kitchen girl to arrive.
She understood the boy perfectly. The boy had come from China to visit his uncle in Bologna but had missed his station stop and gotten off the train in Roma instead. Of course, his uncle wasn’t there to meet him and he had no idea what to do. He stayed at the little hotel in my piazza until his money ran out, then he spent two nights sleeping outdoors at the sidewalk cafe until I rescued him. They called his uncle, arranged for his trip to Bologna, took him to the train station, bought him a ticket, and all ended well. But there are some interesting questions here.
The railway station in Roma was a very long way from my piazza. How did the boy get there? He couldn’t possibly have navigated the subway system and he couldn’t have taken a taxi because he spoke no common language and had no knowledge of the city. He might have taken various trams and buses, alighting and dismounting and eventually ending up at my piazza, but that seems desperately far-fetched.
Moreover, WHY would he have come to my piazza? The most sensible thing would have been to remain at the train station where there were many thousands of people and a good chance to find someone Chinese who could help him. What possible reason would he have to travel all that distance to my piazza? There were a million places in Roma where he could have gone. Why that one, and how could he possibly have gotten there?
But the real point of the story is this: The boy was from a remote mountain valley in Gansu province, with a dialect that was in fact spoken and intelligible only in that small valley. The reason the kitchen girl could understand the boy perfectly was because she was from the same valley.
So, we have a young Chinese boy who travels to Italy, gets off his train in the wrong city, speaks no useful language, then (by means and motivation unknowable) finds his way to my piazza and sits patiently outdoors at my favorite sidewalk coffee shop until I take notice of him and lead him to what was almost certainly the only person in Rome who could understand him.
I would like to share one more story with you, this one prior to my departure to Italy.
A Boy Named Richard
This was an experience many years ago when I was moving to Italy. I had disposed of my assets and encumbrances and for the final few months had lived in a rented apartment – which I had now relinquished – planning to stay in a hotel until my departure two days hence. Then something unusual suddenly occurred that forced me to delay my departure for one month. Not serious in itself, but I was now homeless. The building fortunately had an empty apartment which the owner was happy to lend to me for a month provided I could wait a few days for painting to be completed. He even had some surplus furniture for me.
A bit later that day, while walking down the street I passed what we would call a youth hostel, a kind of hotel for young people who are traveling, very nice building, gardens, huge kitchen and so on. I knew the fellow who managed it, so as I passed by I stopped in to say hello and the subject of my present circumstance arose. More good luck. My friend said if it were for only a few days I could stay there in one of the private rooms, and we could drink beer and watch hockey games. Perfect plan.
I moved my luggage into the hostel, and the first person I met was a young man named Richard. He was only 18 or 19 years old and had come from a small town to the big city to begin his life. Richard seemed smart, sensible, honest, with high standards and good values, and a big heart. He told me of men on the street begging him for $1 to buy a cup of coffee, but Richard wouldn’t give them the money. He would take the man into a coffee shop, buy him a coffee and some cigarettes and talk to him for half an hour, asking about the man’s life, the difficulties of survival, the possibilities of a job, and offering encouragement. I loved this kid.
Richard told me that upon completion of high school, there were few or no jobs in his small town, but he was lucky to find two jobs, one painting houses and the other I cannot recall, but he worked at those two jobs 15 hours a day and saved enough money to come to the city and begin his life. He said he had no idea where he would stay when he arrived in the city, so he asked the person sitting next to him on the bus, and the fellow told him of the youth hostel, so that was where he came. And the first person he met was me. He had no idea what he wanted to do, but he was firm that he would never take a job washing dishes in a restaurant. That was his entire plan.
Then I returned to the apartment building where the owner was collecting furniture for me. His first offering was a beautiful, very new and very expensive sofa that folded out into a huge double bed, so now I wouldn’t sleep on the floor. Later that day he had a small table and a few chairs and this continued with dishes, bed sheets and pillows. I resisted almost immediately, insisting I didn’t want all those things because I was leaving the country and their disposal would be a burden. I can still recall the man saying to me, “Take it. You will need it.” So I took it. But then the next day he had a TV set and some other things, and I tried to refuse, telling him again I didn’t want any more things, and he again said to me, “Take it. You will need it.” I have to say that by this time I was becoming unsettled. The delay in my departure was sufficiently unwelcome, but now things were happening to me that should not have been happening, things beyond my power to resist, and suddenly all the signs were indicating that Providence had decided I wasn’t going to Italy and that my delay would become permanent.
In the meantime, I was trying my best to look after Richard. He’d had no luck finding a job, and the reality of being alone in a big city was starting to frighten him, to say nothing of his meager finances. He said (realistically), “Even if I get a job, I won’t be paid for a month, and I will have to pay a deposit plus the current month’s rent and, even if I can find an apartment, I have no furniture, and I would be sleeping and eating on the floor.” So now Richard was scared. I was sure in my own mind that something had been planned for Richard so I did my best to cheer him up and maintain his faith, but this was looking increasingly shaky.
Back to the apartment building, with the owner apparently determined to furnish my entire apartment, leaving me more worried than Richard. I was unable to explain anything that was happening to me, my planned future in Italy beginning to look bleak.
Back to the youth hostel, with Richard rapidly losing his courage, increasingly expressing fear, doubt and uncertainty, and seeing no hope. It was becoming clear he wasn’t going to last much longer.
Back to the apartment building. I told the owner about Richard, and asked if I could bring the boy to stay with me for the one month, that perhaps in that time he could find a job and things would be better. The owner asked what kind of work Richard did. He was too young to have done much of anything but he mentioned painting houses so I said, “He’s a painter”. And the owner said, “That’s great. I need a painter. There are people coming and going each month from the rented apartments and they all have to be painted. Bring him with you and I’ll give him a job. And he can keep the apartment as part of his pay. He won’t have to give me a deposit or pay rent.” And suddenly the whole world made sense again. Richard not only had a good job with a good boss, but he had a free apartment that was by now fully furnished with very nice things, and it would all be his as a gift when I left. In that conversation of two minutes, all of Richard’s problems evaporated. He was out of danger and in good hands. As was I, apparently.
I ran back to the youth hostel to tell Richard, but he was gone, having checked out and leaving no information. I returned several times, finding him a week later in the company of some not very nice people. He said he realised how stupid he had been, that he could never have succeeded, and so took a job washing dishes in a restaurant – the one thing he said he would never do, and was living with these other men. I reminded Richard of the advice I had given him so many times about believing in himself and not succumbing to fear. I told him what was waiting for him but that it couldn’t be forced onto him, that now he had to choose. I gave him my phone number and address, and told him to call me. I never heard from him again.
My assessment of the situation was that my move to Italy was delayed a month in order to serve as a tool to give a young man a wonderful start in life, but I wasn’t the only actor in this stage play. It seemed that Richard’s entire immediate future was planned for him as a gift, but there was a price: he needed the courage to stand firm and be brave for one moment longer. But, as so often occurs with many of us, at the very last moment, when success is within our grasp, we let ourselves be overcome by fear and doubt and we throw everything away.
I have great respect for William Shakespeare, in part because the man seemed to have knowledge that men should not have. In ‘As you like it’, he wrote, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.” But our life on earth isn’t only a stage play; it’s also a puppet show, and someone is pulling the strings.
I will leave you with a quotation normally attributed to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. I am not certain Goethe is the original source of these words, but it is the content that is important:
“. . . the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.”
My stories will not convince you of anything. You need to experience these in your own life. If you are so inclined, begin to pay attention to the things happening around you, make notes and keep a diary. If you do, you will soon realise that if Providence can pull the strings to make a circumstance or a meeting happen, Providence can also pull the strings to ensure that such a circumstance or meeting will never happen. There is another element to this, which may be of interest. The words are not mine, and I have never been able to locate the original source of this quotation: “Relations are not contained in the real world of existence. They are extraneous, and super-induced.” If you think, you will understand.
Mr. Romanoff’s writing has been translated into 32 languages and his articles posted on more than 150 foreign-language news and politics websites in more than 30 countries, as well as more than 100 English language platforms. Larry Romanoff is a retired management consultant and businessman. He has held senior executive positions in international consulting firms, and owned an international import-export business. He has been a visiting professor at Shanghai’s Fudan University, presenting case studies in international affairs to senior EMBA classes. Mr. Romanoff lives in Shanghai and is currently writing a series of ten books generally related to China and the West. He is one of the contributing authors to Cynthia McKinney’s new anthology ‘When China Sneezes’. (Chapt. 2 — Dealing with Demons).
His full archive can be seen at
https://www.moonofshanghai.com/ and http://www.bluemoonofshanghai.com
He can be contacted at: [email protected]
The way of grace.
A situation that cannot be forced.
“Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.” – William Hutchinson Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition (1951)
Providence moves too at the moment of creative initiative. That stands as an excellent description of why astrology works. Cast a horoscope properly for that moment of creation and what flows from it can be read and understood. Providence suggests a benevolent “provider” does it not? But understanding this requires spiritual intelligence – this word “providence,” much loved by the original American founders, does seem to imply a great deal.
I am aware of the attribution to Murray, but have never been able to obtain an original copy of this book to confirm this as the source. As with much else, these words (or portions of them) have been attributed to various other writers, with origins being lost in the mist. Moreover, of all the quotations attributed to people from Einstein to Hitler to Cleopatra, in 99% of the cases there is no evidence those people ever said any of those things. Thus, rightly or wrongly, I reserve judgment for the moment.
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Matt. 7:7-8
Have you ever read the book of Arthur Koestler, THE ROOTS OF COINCIDENCE ?
You raise an interesting point. I am aware of Koestler’s book, but I tend to ignore it because Koestler was bent on proving parapsychology – telepathy and so on – and most people on this track end up in outer space.
Think for a moment of my first example in this essay – the repeated intrusion into my mind of the thought of the name of the restaurant. What was the source of those thoughts? Certainly not my subconscious. If this were telepathy, who was at at other end? Who could have the ability to know of a question in one mind and the corresponding answer in another mind? Even more, who could have the ability to prod the second mind to search for that answer? That would definitely constitute telepathy, but who was at the other end?
My irreverent suggestion of a puppet show, answers all the questions. However, these discussions tend to be fruitless because in the end the proofs cannot be external; they come only from within, from one’s own experience.
what mean “most people on this track end up in outer space.” ?
Sorry for the cryptic analogy. The meaning is that people often end up with foolish and unsupportable theories, chasing things that aren’t real.
Not the serious professional-scientist students of matters ‘para’psychological, Larry. The Trickster element in that realm does indeed lead many amateur dabblers into silly blind alleys. However, there is a deep reality there for those who approach it seriously; people such as Tom Campbell and Dean Radin, and others.
There’s also the matter of ‘psi-resistance’ to deal with, of course. Perhaps you yourself are manifesting your own…? It appears to be universal: the deep perturbation that we ALL, feel when getting too close to ‘para’normal incidents, such as you describe. One of my teachers, Kenneth Batcheldor (qv) used the phrase ‘acclimatisation and track-record’ to outline the approach which gets you past the initial resistance, and allows – eventually – a fruitful and deeply creative relationship with these phenomena. Regular practice is the key. Find a spiritual discipline which suits you, and work at it. Do it on trust to begin with, and eventually you’ll get – as we all do – your “My god! This is real! I haven’t been kidding myself after all!” moment, when something happens which simply can’t be explained-away by ‘normal’ rationalisations. My ‘my god!’ moments began to come in the 1980s, as a visiting member of Ken Batcheldor’s last sitter group.
Go with it. So long as you resist Trickster’s lures to lead you into foolish imaginings, and maintain ‘sobriety’ (Carlos Castaneda’s report of his alleged teacher don Juan Matus’ word) you can develop a positive, and truly valuable relationship with these things. You describe yourself in this article how useful, and basically good, it can be, once you get yourself at ease with it. That’s true. Trust it.
Well, I would search for the answers in the Rupert Sheldrake’s work. He is an English biologist (biochemistry) who does deal with parapsychology as well, but his work is much broader than that. What you call the Providence here would probably be called by him the great living being of the Universe, of which we are all part. His underlying concepts like the Morphic resonance cannot be explained in a single sentence.
What I wanted to tell you, actually, is something else. Good things are happening around you. I do not know the explanation, are there ‘good vibrations’ around you or what it is, but it does not seem to be simply by chance.
“..Who could have the ability to know of a question in one mind and the corresponding answer in another mind?… …but who was at the other end?”
Maybe you would find interesting answers to these questions in “The New Science of Life” from Dr. Sheldrake from 1981, and in his later books, as well. Be prepared for some fascinating reading.
Trago comigo todos os dias, duas premissas fundamentais, digamos platônicas, de autoria de um professor, biólogo e psicólogo evolucionista, que respondem de imediato a todas as minhas questões:
1) a teoria do auto engano, diz que todos nós somos levados a nos auto enganar para melhor enganar os outros, na luta pela sobrevivência.
2) a teoria do altruísmo recíproco, diz que nós atendemos necessariamente a um chamado altruísta quando estamos frente a outros que consideramos iguais.
O professor e cientista chama-se dr. Robert Trivers, da Universidade Rutgers (rutgers.edu/) é considerado entre seus pares, como um dos expoentes da antropologia filosófica.
Pode ser que a minha leitura das teses do professor Trivers estejam aquém ou além do que ele postula. Vale a pena conferir a sua bibliografia.
Google-tranlation from mod:-
I bring with me every day, two fundamental premises, let’s say Platonic, by authoring a teacher, biologist and evolutionary psychologist, who respond immediately to all my questions:
1) The theory of self-deception, says that we are all brought to self cheating to better deceive others, in the fight for survival.
2) The reciprocal altruism theory, says that we necessarily serve an altruist call when we are in front of others that we consider equal.
The teacher and scientist is called dr. ROBERT Trivers, Rutgers University (rutgers.edu/) is considered among their peers, as one of the exponents of philosophical anthropology.
It may be that my reading of Professor Trivers’s theses are below or beyond what he postulates. It pays to check his bibliography.
thank you very much for publishing this really valuable and illuminating text!
What a heart warming read! Made my day!
So different, so fresh, so enlighting reading!
Hopefully Larry will keep writing for Saker blog!
Thank you both so much!
Loved it! Deep truths in deed. Thank you.
Yeap! Larry, TAT TWAM ASI! It is what it is… any human explanation will fall short..
I’ve lived my life on those “synchronicities” of which Karl Jung talked about along with “archetypes”.
All I will say, “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”, from Hamlet-Shakespear.
Delicious note/essay and thanks to Saker for the inclusion
“Relations are not contained in the real world of existence. They are extraneous, and super-induced.”
Our lives are indeed full of that sort of ‘coincidences’.
”Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, drew a circle with a piece of red chalk and said: “When men, even unknowingly, are to meet one day, whatever may befall each, whatever their diverging paths, on the said day, they will inevitably come together in the red circle.”
Some few years ago I was fulfilling a dream, visiting the ‘Red Center’ of Australia, Uluru/Ayers Rock. Financial constraints (tourism in Australia is inordinately expensive) made me book an ‘adventure tour’ for backpackers. All young people from different countries, mostly West European. It was a surprise when a young girl from Switzerland addressed me in my native language of an Eastern European country. It came out that she was from a village in that country where I was working temporarily and that I was hosted in her aunt house!
A Danish proverb: Lykken staar den kaekke bi – freely translated:
‘Luck helps helps the one who dares’
It might be disappointing for you but the ‘Danish proverb’ is nothing else than the Danish translation of the Latin expressions ‘Audaces fortuna iuvat’ (Fortune favors the bold) attributed to the poet Publius Terentius Afer (c. 190-159 B.C.) or “Audentis Fortuna iuvat” as used by Vergilius in the Aeneid (Book 10, line 284).
Not Alone. It’s hard to make positive statements about what is. The people one might encounter at the temple you mentioned have been saying for centuries that we err in our belief that there’s some sort of ontological line drawn in the sand between I and Thou, this and that. One can accumulate instances of interesting coincidences. Nothing wrong with this. But one can also go the other way and question the conventional assumptions we resort to in trying to understand our experiences.
Truly, there is something to it. I have lived some unusual experiences I couldn’t only understand as pure luck. I’ll tell you a short one. After The shuttle Discovery was to be launched from the Kennedy Space Center end of April 2005. I decided to watch it and a friend of mine, a former NASA employee, told me that the best place to watch the launch would be the Papa John’s restaurant at the Coco Beach. The launch was postponed and nevertheless I had to drive from Orlando to Miami and I decided to find the Papa John’s and come next time for the launch. However, I didn’t know that Coco Beach is 50 km long! The main road went a block away of the beach and I had to turn left at some point. I decided to drive 15 minutes and then turn left. Then I said I’ll drive another 5 minutes. When I decided to turn left at the next traffic light, it was closed for construction. I took the next one, turned left, and a minute later I was on the beach, right in front the Papa John’s!
Thank you Mr. Romanoff for sharing these valuable experiences.
One of my mentors (a remarkable Japanese-American lady in the old South of USA) remarked that the more training/expertise one acquires in this life, the more that person understands there is a higher Power with purpose. There are no coincidences. Seemingly random occurrences if analyzed honestly and critically show astonishing patterns. If one stays open to the insight, it necessarily follows there is a beneficent guardian of our affairs.
These episodes you have experienced over decades are a good testament to your sensitive and caring character. Our “Puppet Master” steers the suitable implement towards helping the needy one in their particular moment of need.
What struck me, as much as the repeated intrusions into your thoughts, was that four persons in need of help were of a similar background to you. Standing out among the Chinese majority, they would have seen you and rushed to you for assistance.
And how thankless most mankind is to these countless little favors, most of which they are not even aware!
It is difficult to describe writing as a reflection, but that is what I felt when I read it , the first time.
The second time I read it, it started to affect me, I kind of had to put it aside, let many hours pass before I could write anything.
I never expected to read what I did…nor why it fell into my lap when it did, it is difficult to put into words.
I got it.
Congratulations, Larry! You have a good, strong, clear, open channel to Big Mind: ‘The Larger Consciousness System’ in physicist, mathematician and mystic Tom Campbell’s novel and deeply-enlightening Big TOE; his Big Theory Of Everything.
Big Mind evidently finds you a really useful lieutenant in its pursuit of its (and therefore ours, since we are all never-disconnected outgrowths of it) Great Purpose: lowering entropy and growing towards love.
The distinguished investigative experimental scientist Dean Radin, who has spent over forty years working on elucidating matters ‘para’normal points out that whenever he gives a public lecture, he always finds that about ninety-five percent of his audience can give instances in their own lives of the sort of incident which you describe here; unless its an audience of professional scientists, in which case the number is more like ninety-seven-point-five! :) Only, of course, to safeguard their professional standing, they daren’t admit such things too publicly! :) :)
Study Tom Campbell’s account of the forty years of methodical experimental work that he’s conducted whilst in an out-of-body state, to arrive at the epoch-changing insights that he details in his Big TOE. Study Dean’s publications to see further very high-quality (six sigma) experimental work for further confirmation.
We are indeed not alone. Thank Big Mind – or ‘God’ if you prefer – for that blessing! Cheers, Larry.
Tom Campbell’s books say: “…for the past twenty years, he has been at the heart of developing US missile defense systems.”
It seems that he sees a use for his knowledge with wich I would not agree………
Recently I got an urge to venture into the bush in the nearby mountain side game reserve. Upon entry, I decided to loose myself into the bush (walk without aim, purpose & thought). After a while I found a random rock & rested. I continued meditating until I was interrupted by the sound of Guiney fowl close by. I began to study the place around. To my surprise I was resting in a trap zone for Guiney fowls & other chicken size wild birds. I saw two traps & evidence of kills . The killing of big birds is illegal in my country. I reported the matter to the park authorities. Fortunately they managed to trap & catch the poacher. To me, it’s like I was a medium through which the plight of Guiney fowls was expressed. I am happy that the senseless slaughter of birds was stopped.
is this an advertisement for Matrix4?
the Real Q to ‘we are not alone’ is – ‘Who are ‘They’?’
hanging around china for sometime now, Larry, I am guessing you got to know a few local gods?! seen a few more eastern ‘providence’?
So who is the puppet master Larry?
If we accept that life is largely a struggle where we employ that which we know in order to prepare, to conquer or to come to terms with the unknown, then we must at some point experience what we consider coincidences, unexplained events or even miracles.
Taking this further, at some point we become aware that this Spirit of Life, or Holy Spirit, is working for our benefit, on a day to day, and even a moment to moment basis. The Law of Spirit is in fact the principle of increase. Moving into harmony with this primordial intelligence leads us toward abundance, understanding and wisdom, among other things. Contained within this Primordial Benevolence is all we may ever need, want or can imagine in life. We can access this deeper abundance through listening to Its Voice, as It speaks to our heart. It may express Itself in any number of ways, but in Its most pure form, IT can be experienced inwardly as Light and Sound.
Often times when we have a question that needs to be answered, the answer may come during the course of our daily lives. Someone may utter something that we immediately recognise as the answer we were after. This can be termed Golden Tongued Wisdom or in the case of a waking dream, we may see a word or text somewhere that pertains directly to our situation.
Great article and its good to see articles like this b/c it shows us we’re never alone and there is always help at hand. We simply need to get ourselves out of the way.
Well, Larry Romanoff, I’ve got one for you!
Every time I visit this blog and a certain thing happens I ALWAYS say to myself: “if only Larry Romanoff were here.”
That certain thing happened again yesterday when Mr. Saker did his (by now famous) characteristic rant regarding COVID issues and scolds anyone who may post on this issue. Scold is a mild term but useful for this post.
The minute I see the Saker COVID rant I immediately think of your posts on this site regarding propaganda and how really insightful they are. They are actual master works and I wonder if Andrei has actually read them. It doesn’t appear he has. And then I think, it doesn’t matter. Saker is Saker and so be it.
So thanks for showing up today with such a touching piece and reminding me that, really, we are not alone.
A propósito de este hermoso escrito, quiero compartir una experiencia que me ocurrió en un lapso de 16 años. En 1996 vivía en Managua. Cada mañana, muy temprano, ibamos, con la que ahora es mi esposa, a un pequeño parque cerca de mi casa, donde después de hacer un breve calentamiento en uno de los extremos del parque, corriamos por cuarenta y cinco minutos. Esa mañana llegamos al parque y las bancas que usábamos estaban ocupadas, así que nos fuimos al extremo opuesto. Al sentarme, instintualmente miré al suelo y de inmediato vino a mi memoria el sueño que tuve esa noche. Soñé que caminaba por una calle ancha de terracería. Una suave brisa me daba en el rostro y caminaba con una felicidad plena, absoluta. Iba con una sonrisa que iluminaba mi rostro. Corrían hacia mi decenas de niños, sonriendo felices. Al encontrarnos me rodeaban y yo les regalaba canicas que llevaba por docenas en mis manos. Todos sonreíamos y nuestra felicidad era total y plena. Por qué recordé el sueño? Cuando miré hacia el suelo en el parque, habían tres canicas olvidadas por algun niño. En febrero de 2009, viajando por trabajo en el estado de Rajasthan, India, visitamos un pequeño pueblo a tres horas de Jaipur, la ciudad rosada. En este, funcionarios de una ONG local nos dieron las explicaciones necesarias para la visita a una comunidad Dalit en una aldea cercana. Entre otras cosas, nos explicaron el significado del agua y como un Dalit no puede, ni debe, beber el agua de alguien de una casta superior y viceversa. La expresión “se contamina” cobró sentido bajo esa explicación que tenía sus fundamentos en la religión. Varios ejemplos nos fueron compartidos. Después de la charla nos trasladamos a la aldea para intercambiar con las familias Dalit. Llegamos en quince o veinte minutos. Bajamos de los vehículos con mis colegas: dos africanos, un camboyano, un danés y yo, el unico latinoamericano. Entramos por un pasillo a un patio interior en cuyo centro un gran arbol con poco follaje nos albergaria bajo su leve sombra. De las casas alrededor salieron mujeres, hombres, jovenes, adultos mayores, niños, mujeres cargando criaturas lactantes y se fueron sentando alrededor nuestro. Nosotros nos sentamos en dos camas de madera tejidas con lazo y una especie de tejido vegetal a modo de colchon, que ubicaron bajo el arbol. De una de las casas vinieron dos jovenes hacia nosotros. El primero con un pichel de vidrio con agua en su interior y, el segundo con unos pequeños platos con snacks que nos ofrecieron. Había alrededor de cien personas muy pendientes de cada uno de nosotros, visitantes lejanos. El joven con el agua ofreció un pequeño vaso, el cual llenó con agua clara a cada uno de mis colegas, hasta que llegó donde me encontraba. Pese a la explicación recibida media hora antes, ninguno de mis colegas se tomó el agua. Supongo que más por miedo a los parásitos, que por discriminación. Cuando me entregó el vaso y me lo llenó, me lo tomé de inmediato y pedí me sirviera otro, que también tomé. La charla duró casi tres horas por las dificultades de la traducción. Durante ese tiempo pasé, además de escuchando, tomando fotos con una cámara cuya pantalla móvil me ayudaba a disimular mi interés por personas específicas. Cuando la conversación concluyó, nos levantamos y salimos junto con muchos de los Dalits de aquella comunidad. Al salir nos encaminamos por aquella calle de tierra. De inmediato, un gran grupo de niños me rodearon sonriendo muy amistosos y cómo un Dejavú, vino a mi mente el sueño en Managua, dieciseis años atrás. Me sentí feliz y privilegiado de ser parte de esa experiencia mágica, mistica y misteriosa, que de algun manera, ahora que leo este hermoso artículo me ayuda a confirmar que definitivamente no estamos solos. Gracias por su escrito tan hermoso!
About this beautiful piece of writing, I want to share an experience that happened to me in a span of 16 years. In 1996 he lived in Managua. Every morning, very early, we went, with what is now my wife, to a small park near my house, where after doing a brief warm-up at one end of the park, we ran for forty-five minutes. That morning we arrived at the park and the benches we used were occupied, so we went to the opposite end. As I sat down, I instinctively looked down at the floor and immediately remembered the dream I had that night. I dreamed I was walking down a wide dirt road. A gentle breeze hit my face and I walked with full, absolute happiness. I went with a smile that lit up my face. Dozens of children were running towards me, smiling happily. When they met me they surrounded me and I gave them marbles that I carried by the dozens in my hands. We all smiled and our happiness was total and full. Why did I remember the dream? When I looked at the ground in the park, there were three marbles forgotten by some kid. In February 2009, traveling for work in the state of Rajasthan, India, we visited a small village three hours from Jaipur, the pink city. In this one, officials from a local NGO gave us the necessary explanations for the visit to a Dalit community in a nearby village. Among other things, they explained to us the meaning of water and how a Dalit cannot and should not drink the water of someone of a higher caste and vice versa. The expression “pollutes ” became meaningful under that explanation which had its foundations in religion. Several examples were shared with us. After the talk we moved to the village to exchange with the Dalit families. We’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes. We got out of the vehicles with my colleagues: two Africans, a Cambodian, a Danish and me, the only Latin American. We enter through a corridor to an interior courtyard in whose center a large tree with little foliage would shelter us under its slight shade. From the houses around came women, men, young people, older adults, children, women carrying nursing creatures and sat around us. We sat on two wooden beds woven with a bow and a kind of plant tissue as a mattress, which they placed under the tree. Two young men came to us from one of the houses. The first with a glass cup with water inside and, the second with some small dishes with snacks that they offered us. There were about a hundred people very attentive to each of us, distant visitors. The young man with the water offered a small glass, which he filled with clear water to each of my colleagues, until he arrived where I was. Despite the explanation received half an hour earlier, none of my colleagues drank the water. I guess more out of fear of parasites than discrimination. When he handed me the glass and filled it, I took it immediately and asked for another, which I also took. The talk lasted almost three hours because of the difficulties of translation. During that time I spent, in addition to listening, taking photos with a camera whose mobile screen helped me hide my interest in specific people. When the conversation ended, we got up and went out with many of the Dalits in that community. When we left, we went down that dirt street. Immediately, a large group of children surrounded me smiling very friendly and how a Dejavú, came to my mind the dream in Managua, sixteen years ago. I felt happy and privileged to be part of that magical, mystical and mysterious experience, which somehow, now that I read this beautiful article helps me to confirm that we are definitely not alone. Thank you for your writing so beautiful!
Yes, this happens all the time to me. From small things coming to hand as soon as I need them to major changes in life. My current work situation I call my Karma Job because it came from honest actions 10 years ago and happened without obvious planning or intent, but it was ‘the right thing at the right time’. I think the old concept of the ‘Fates’ is tangibly real in our lives.
This kind of reminds me of those people who missed a plane that then went down, killing everyone aboard, and are of the opinion that it was divine intervention–God saved them!
. . . But not all those unwashed miscreants who didn’t miss the plane. Presumably God didn’t like them much. Doubtless they didn’t belong to the correct Baptist sub-sect. Am I the only one who finds this kind of thinking a tad smug and arrogant?
I’ve noodled on this kind of thing too and have come to a different mind set. The only survivor of a plane crash may be grateful for survival but knows nothing of the lives of those who did not survive. Maybe death rescued them from a miserable life. We have a finite time on this planet and their time was up. Maybe their deaths made changes in the lives of their families and friends. We do not know. The ways of God are mysterious. For the survivor, though, it may be a little reminder to savor the wonderfulness of this time on this planet.
“Relations are not contained in the real world of existence. They are extraneous, and super-induced.”
I would not agree with this statement. A person who believes in karma would hold the view that we have relations will all those with whom we have interacted, with some very close relations although this lifetime we may not recognize them, and with others not close.
It is also true that we may find ourselves being used as instruments by higher beings. If we are aligned with the universe such things described by Mr. Romanoff become commonplace. ” Lord let me be an instrument if they peace”.
If we are out of alignment the converse is also true. We can become instruments for lower energies.
Nice article. Thanks Mr Romanoff
Thank you Mr. Romanoff. Coming from a Christian abackground I attributed those experiences to angelic nudging.
In retirement, I included such an episode in a 4th screenplay. Our reverse antagonist, young Dick, has a recuring dream of a sunlit hamlet with a little church, a pub, a cart and horse. Then a terrible ice storm, which wrecks the postcard. Overfed men exit the pub, climb into the cart, now stuck in mud. The horse cannot move on for all the whipping. Hamlet villagers rush out to help the horse and are whipped themselves. The horse falls and dies. — Per Dostoyevski — Dick is primed, responds to an elderly friend and thwarts a murder.