20 days and counting, my friends; the mystery is almost done. I'm in that stage where my outward appearance might lead you to think I should be committed. Considering how I've lost my grip on reality and refer to myself as Detective Jones, it might be a good idea.

 

I've reprogrammed the Amazon Alexa device in my room, so that my wife has to say, “Alexa, drop into Detective Jones's office," if she wants to reach me from her Echo downstairs, which is appropriately called "Mama's Kitchen.” Since you're asking, I renamed the master-bathroom device “The Leopard Lounge.” Let's leave it there.

 

I have so much I want to share with you before I get back to work, but I'll choose the highlights. My son played Bruce (the cake eater) in his middle school's production of Matilda the Musical, Jr. He tore the roof off with a magical voice that certainly didn't come from his banjo-playing father. (There's a reason they don't let banjo players sing.) He's never acted or sung before but landed a huge part to make his first step onto the stage. They had to mop my proud tears off the floor after each of the four performances.

 

We're also wrapping up baseball season. He's on two teams and has been playing five to seven games a week since early April. Mikella and I can't get enough and will be in the stands tonight for the second round of the Cape Elizabeth Little League playoffs. I don't know what's more fun than watching our little guy grow into his potential.

Moving on, my recent break from writing has really helped me reconnect and I'm seeing the signs again. Disclaimer: I might sound a little woo woo below. If you have a problem with it, you're likely reading the wrong newsletter.

 

When I'm at my best, I'm plugged into something bigger than myself. My writing soars along with the other parts of my life. I'm tuned into the frequency of the universe, so much so that I feel like I could make the wind blow or shift items that are out of my physical reach. When my fingers are over the keys, it's not me who's steering.

 

I love the signs that come my way during these times, showing me that I'm doing something right. My mentor, Leila Meacham, called them Godwinks. The most obvious Godwink in my life the past few years is looking at the clock and seeing times like below.

You're still with me! Bravo, my fellow seekers of the magical. I can't tell you how many times I look at my phone or at a digital clock somewhere and see 11:11 or the like. It's more often than not. I'm sure you doubters can give me a scientific debunking. But the fact is, when I see these numbers, it's typically when I'm riding life like a long-boarder gliding along a glassy wave. For the record, I'm just as often riding life like a flipping degenerate on a mechanical bull that's cranked to the highest setting. But let's focus on the good days...

 

How would you explain it? I take these numerical signs almost like a thumbs-up telling me to keep doing what I'm doing… or a subtle reminder to get my head out of my arse, find the cord to life, and plug back in.

 

Here's another Godwink that's been a steady visitor in the last two years. I had a Spanish Water Dog named Tully who meant a great deal to me. He's the one who got me through my late twenties and most of my thirties. I saved his last stuffed animal as a keepsake. He would suckle it as opposed to tearing it to shreds, so it survived a couple of years with him. Fast-forward to our current pack of dodos, Tula and Bandido… 

These two troublemakers, especially the Husky, will shake stuffed animals to death, then tear holes in them and rip out their guts. We've gone through maybe one hundred stuffies in the last two years, always coming home to find cotton all over the floor. But not Tully's stuffed animal. They've had this little guy for those same two years, and he still has all his innards. He looks worn only because he's spent several years in a dog's mouth. Somehow, they know this stuffed animal is special and to treat him with reverance. Tula will suckle it just like Tully did. That's a Godwink if there ever was one. 

 

What do these signs mean? For me, they're the fuel I need to keep chasing the beauty hidden all around us. I'm opening my eyes wider and searching for more of these clues and using them as a compass to live a better life. There's intelligence out there, my friends. No matter what you call it, the magic is all around us. 

 

How about you? Are you receiving any Godwinks or signs from the multiverse? What do they mean? Or are these just funny coincidences that I'm misreading as tiny miracles?

 

I hope your summer is off to a great start. More from me after this deadline. Two months till An Echo in Time!

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