The Synchronicities Are Enough To Make ... The Blinds Swing

As it happens, John’s deftness at manipulating energy is infinite, indicative of the vast expansiveness and freedom of the soul.

John and his sister Lynne, sharing a beer in January 2018, 3 months after his diagnosis. It was the last time they met. Above them on the fridge is the mystery NT sticker.

Before elaborating on what we have come to know as John’s signature, he is nudging me to share just another wee sign ...  re the love we shared ... of the red dirt; Outback Australia.

Therefore it seems that this post may be an addendum to the previous post. You see, when I got home from the dentist, the block-out blind, offering protection and privacy to the loungeroom window overlooking the Main St of my small town … was swinging. I noticed it before opening the glass back door. The house is basically one large room, with a bedroom, study and bathroom jutting off the eastern side. There is no passage way. We built the house according to the accustomed way we shared our small, semi detached worker’s cottage in inner-city Melbourne. And before you ask … no … there were no windows open, all double glazed ... in a well-insulated, relatively new build.

I laughed, John’s confirmation … that yes, that was him in the car ... Ready please, Mr Music!

John has affectionately become known as a serial blind swinger! Some family and friends have been subjected to surprising, hence unsolicited blind swinging when visiting. This has astounded the sceptics amongst the throng. On occasion I too have been taken totally off guard. Particularly in the instances where he has introduced himself to those he didn’t know in form, presenting his quirky playful energy ... at his will.

In the meantime, back to the red dirt. In 2022, I travelled with my beach and brunch buddy Di to a an annual event called Stuck In The Middle; a national gathering of a solo women’s camping group. Our destination Ross River Homestead in The East McDonnell Ranges, NT. An epic drive, we took some further time on route to explore outback South Australia before heading into the NT’s Central Australia and The West MacDonnell Ranges.

The sacred indigenous landscapes of Australia are beyond belief because the connection to country predates the contemporary concept of separation which spawns belief. Such sentient landscapes offer us an experience of Truth; Oneness.

I was intent on buying an iconic NT sticker for my campervan. John and I had one on our camper trailer. While it would symbolise this Outback trip, it would also be a token reminder of John and my love affair with the red dirt. Roadhouses on the Stuart Highway are plentiful. It stretches 2,700km, marking a similar route to the dissecting railway line of The Ghan. The sticker proved to be elusive though; the pandemic lockdowns impacting production and supply.

Finally we located one on the return journey home, at a tiny run-down Roadhouse near Alice Springs. Whoever wants to make the next B-grade horror movie in Outback Australia wouldn’t need to conjure any manufactured set ... scuffed and chipped concrete floors drawing the eye to its blunt tones ... a failed mimic of red dirt. Ply wood panelled walls ... curled tourist brochures made limp by the humidity, filthy aluminium windows. The only brightness the green of a customary pool table, centred in the failed ... distant mimic of a saloon bar.

The stale air lingered, sodden with the aroma of rancid cooking oil. The sallow walls mirroring the pallid complexion and terse manner of the bloke serving behind the sticky countertop. A bit surreal, but hey, I had my sticker. So enthused, I remember laughing at myself, purchasing 5. Without further ado, I adorned the van with said sticker and slotted the remaining 4 in the glovebox of the van ... and promptly forgot about them.

About 4 weeks after I got home I found the same NT sticker resting on my backdoor mat, poking out under an essay a student l was tutoring had left for me to assess. When I rang her, she confirmed that the sticker was already on the mat. Perplexed, I remembered the stickers in the glove box. All 4 remaining stickers from that Roadhouse were tucked up snuggly in the leather bound folder containing the van’s documents. The mystery remains; well the mystery of how John bloody got it there and from where? It now has its place on the fridge above a photo of the funny bugger with his sister.

This brings us back to the swinging blinds!

Bear with me as I give you a little more context. John grew up in a small mountain town, population around 2000. Being nearly 400km from Melbourne, we would visit during the week between Xmas and New Year, when everyone could be together at the family home.

As we can all attest, coming together as a family can prompt us to slip into the familiar territory of role identification and associated patterns of behaviour and discourse. John and his siblings facial expressions spoke in ways that sometimes evaded their mother, Jean’s gaze. Shuffling chairs to follow the shade cast by the backyard’s peripheral line of trees and shrubs during those lazy, prolonged hot summer days was part of the daily routine. As was opening a beer, The sun’s hit the shed, Lynne; John and David’s older sister would herald, announcing it was noon. Are you starting already?, Jean would quip, not looking up from the jigsaw splayed across a portable card table. Apparently she’s forgotten how much she liked a drink and a party, the sibling’s shared and smiling eye roll suggested. It was perhaps timely that the dry, hot afternoon heat usually drove Jean indoors for the cool of the house for a few hours, and away from the shenanigans of her adult children.

Jean was a telephonist in the post office back in John’s youth. Many a story was bandied around from days past, especially the sordid stories of locals … those made public by the eavesdropping telephonists of the time! Stories habitually revisited each year ... nostalgia ... memories repurposed for a laugh; a good-will competition of heightened embellishment amongst the siblings and their mother.

Notwithstanding any individual and familial misgivings, there was never any conflict regarding inter-generational matters during the Xmas-NY week. While not all wounds were healed, there ensued a respectful camaraderie amongst them. They were home to enjoy each other’s company, choosing to keep the focus light; on the good times.

The blinds!

Jean’s kitchen window looked out over the front of the house, across the road; a main thoroughfare bordering the residential area from farmland and forest. The outlook lead the eye to a paddock which soon began its ascent into folds of hills and bushland. John’s town rested in the foothills of the Alpine region which consequently remains a popular mountain-bike riding terrain. Reflecting the décor of the previous decade; the kitchen’s thin, horizontal vertical blinds were a gold patterned cream colour, complimenting the mission brown chip-board cupboards and brownish patterned lino floor. Jean had the blinds on an angle, enough to notice any passing pedestrian traffic. Finger placed strategically on an edge of the blind, she could lower it just enough to conceal herself in identifying anyone of interest. Perhaps a hangover from her telephonist days?

Why all this context?

We had blackout and sunscreen roller blinds fitted into our new house. Whilst you can see through the sunscreen blinds, they also provide adequate privacy … and in doing so, prevent the clarity of detail when inside looking out. John had a tendency to use his pointer finger to ease the blind open from the side if he wanted a closer look at something outside that had caught his attention, Doing a Jean?, I would tease.

Receiving and understanding signs are contextual in that the possible message or interpretation is surmised by whom the message was intended. Mostly through a simultaneous feeling; a thought; a memory ... the suggestion of a brief, sweet, relatable offer . Further clarity can sometimes drop in later. Either way, my experience is not to over think a sign. The analytical mind is alien to intuition. Thinking belongs to our ego, intuition is the discourse of the soul.

Five months after John died, he started to manipulate whatever energy and frequency moves those blinds. John communicates with me through sense perception, both in dreams and when I meditate with set intention to connect with him. Obviously, he also has a proclivity for manipulating physical phenomena. There are certain objects that are repeatedly moved; examples including a photo of us, cards and knick-knacks … items turned around, set upside down, and the like. It is through the blinds though, that John has made himself known to family and friends, including those he had not met.

John will sometimes mix it up; moving from his common lounge room blind-swing to a blind in the bedroom, the kitchen, the study. Just keeping you on your toes, l feel his laughter. Often, I sense he is giving me confirmation; something from meditation, a decision I am considering, a nudge, a simple hello. I might get out of the shower and the blind is swinging, especially if I have some of his favourite music playing. The blind might swing for 1 minute ... it might swing for 10, it might swing several times in one day, it might not swing for 5 days; whatever takes his fancy! Sometimes I feel John’s energy before the blind starts to swing; sometimes it catches me by surprise. I can also sense his energy unaccompanied by any other phenomena; at home, out and about.

I accept the first thought that enters my head when receiving a sign. Just a WOW ... every time ...  I accept each sign with the love and gratitude with which it has been emitted.

The first time John revealed his energy to someone he didn’t know in form, was to my massage therapist. Mandy was my first connection within the town, and I am appreciative for the friendship that evolved. I started remedial massage therapy with Mandy whilst caring for John. Sometime after John’s death Mandy went mobile so would come to my home. Such was Mandy’s generosity, she would often massage me for 2-3 hours. We spoke of the spiritual and esoteric nature of the universe; sharing our somewhat different paths, without judgement, with respect. Mandy was both open and graceful in her compassionate care during one of my most challenging and vulnerable periods. We developed a deep mutual trust and I remain grateful for the gift of Mandy who has since moved interstate.

I was initially surprised in John’s reveal to Mandy. He made his presence known a few times while I was on the massage table; I understood he was thanking her for the love and care she so generously bequeathed upon me.

John was a tad sceptical about an afterlife before he died. Beneficiaries of his talents (John has just dropped that phrase in for Brendan’s benefit) included his mate Brendan, with whom he shared a blokey banter. Brendan’s WTF expression when I alerted him to the blind swinging was entertainment itself! I could feel John laughing. The blind swing coincided with Brendan selecting one of John’s shirts ... a souvenir! (John again … laughing!).

John’s jovial energy expands when our sceptic friends scan the room, seeking  the source of a draft or some other explanation for the swinging blind. Again, while I cannot exactly see him, I can picture another of his mannerisms;  placing his pointer and middle finger over his lips to tame a burst of laughter; reward for successfully perplexing and snatching those he loves with his quirky sense of humour. Exactly as he did when he was in his human body! So, this is their segue into the world of spirit; so typical of John. Bewilderment soon turns to comfort as John’s energy fills the room with shared memories of his antics! A homebody, John always welcomed friends and family. What gifts of love and laughter in grief.

John was well respected for his knowledge while in form, I feel his blind swinging escapade for friends is simply letting us know his learning, too, continues across the veil.

Sceptic or not, John’s overarching message affirms, It is a Universal Truth that our souls are eternal.

Today, July 8 marks John’s birthday. Whilst here on the physical plane, I will continue to acknowledge the significant time markers of this incarnation with John. My human aspect experiences the expression of unconditional love as gratitude; the source energy from whence we are all seeded. Thank you John, I love you.

And so it is.