How Woo-Woo Are You?

Do you believe in signs? As in from the universe? And/or departed loved ones on the other side? I do. I don’t think people who know me well would be all that surprised to learn I do. Everyone has innate gifts. If I had to list four of my attributes, I’d say I’m caring, creative, pragmatic, and a little woo-woo.

So, what does it mean to be a little woo-woo? Through life’s trials and tribulations, I like to believe we have some sort of divine squadron of angels and spirits working for our greater good. Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines woo-woo as dubiously or outlandishly mystical, supernatural, or unscientific. No disrespect to Merriam or Webster, but I don’t think it’s all that outlandish.

Meanwhile the Cambridge Dictionary’s definition is a little more judgmental; based on false beliefs or imaginary things, rather than reason or scientific knowledge. I think it’s also, if you asked me, rather dismissive. I align more with Wiktionary’s definition with woo-woo meaning supernatural, paranormal, occult, esoteric, or pseudoscientific phenomena, or emotion-based beliefs and explorations. I acknowledge this online reference book isn’t as esteemed as the aforementioned dictionaries, but it’s more open-minded and allows for mystery. How else can we describe instances that have little to no explanation for their causation?

I attribute a little of my woo-woo was in play when my son Francisco entered the world. He was born with congestive heart failure and was fighting for his life. Two cardiologists came into talk to us later that evening to give us their expert assessment since Cisco was in NICU. That talk can be chalked up to - there’s no hope.

I prayed to God all night long, but I also summoned my mother and grandmother, both deceased, to intercede on my son’s behalf. I had a framed photo of the two of them since it was my Lamaze focal point. I repeatedly looked at the photo and admonished them to help him, “what’s the point of you being there if you can’t do something (to help my son)? You have to do something.” It took a lot of intense intervention from doctors and nurses but finally after 24 hours Francisco improved to critical, but medically stable, condition. I like to believe my mother and grandmother had a heavenly hand in that progress, too.

There have been other personal experiences I have no reasonable explanation for. When I first visited Sicily in 2019, from the moment my feet hit the ground there, I felt a strong connection with the island. It’s like every cell in my body lit up and came alive. I had spent the day before in Rome and didn’t have an experience like that at all.

I had another spiritual experience before I tested to see if I was a donor match for my cousin in need of a kidney. I knew I’d be his match and donor. I told everyone for weeks. I’d say, “watch, I’m going to be the match.” And I was right; a few months later he had my kidney. I felt I would be the donor ahead of time but there’s no specific reason as to why I felt so strongly about it. I felt it in my bones. I knew it somehow, but I didn’t know how I knew it.

A couple of weeks ago I visited a thrift store and had what I’ll call a trio of small synchronicities. Swiss Psychologist & Psychiatrist Carl Jung first introduced the concept and coined the term synchronicity in the late 1920s. It’s the simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection. I was wearing these olive-green overalls that should have two buttons on the bib holding it up when I went to the thrift store. They’re old, tattered and worn-in and I love them. Alas, one of the buttons was already missing, leaving the sole button to do the yeoman’s job of holding it all up.

While shopping, there was an item I wanted to take a better look at but had to stretch out and reach it. As I extended my arm further away from my stationary body, “pop!” There goes my lone button. Oh shit, now I’ve got to hold this up and juggle the stuff I was carrying as there were no available carts left. I immediately follow that thought up with - but what if I find a safety pin? A few moments later I see a vintage suitcase identical to one my grandmother had when I was a child. I go to check it out. When I open it up do you know what I find? Attached to the pleated pocket of the inside of the suitcase is a safety pin. I snag it and use it to secure my overalls in place of the missing button that had just popped off.

As I’m closing the suitcase I glance down and notice the word Nonna printed in black cursive hand just as I close the suitcase. I quickly re-open it to look for the word but it’s not there. I saw it with my eyes, but it must’ve been like some sort of sober hallucination. Or it could’ve been my grandmother hitting me over the head that she was responsible for hooking me up with a safety pin all the way from the other side.

I’d been hoping to come across a metal or ceramic hand soap dispenser for my bathroom for the last few months. It’s too easy to simply go to a store and purchase one. The thrill of the hunt and finding one in the wild leaves me with a feeling that the thrift gods are rooting for me, too. And right after the safety pin find, there it was, a metal brass dup of a hand soap dispenser. It found me.

I then come across a small vintage rectangular silver chafing dish and scooped it up. They’re all the rage and I see a lot of people styling them with books now. So I then made my way toward the books, I thought what if I find a classic? The first one I picked up was a light blue hard cover book overturned so I can only see its back. I rotate it as I pick it up to see the front cover. It’s Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. Not just any copy either. First edition published in 1952. Oh my goodness, I manifested this!

These little synchronicities happened in rapid succession. I left the thrift store feeling I had good fortune on my side. If I was smart, I would’ve gone to play some numbers. But I gathered my things and headed home feeling a little more connected to the universe and recognized how fortunate I was. But that’s me, I’m a little woo-woo. How woo-woo are you?