The Stringchronicity

This is the tale of a small blue string and the synchronicities surrounding it.

Earlier today, in a discord server that I run, a friend (and patron of this blog) was telling us about a post on another website wherein someone asked about a piece of thread stuck to an article of clothing. The thread was a different color than that of the clothing, and the person was looking for meaning.

The responses to that post were saying it was a sign that it was any number of different entities trying to contact the person. Our reaction, in the discord, was one of amusement. Surely these angels and gods had better ways of reaching out than a loose thread which didn’t immediately have any meaning attached to it.

They’re clearly a very special and important person that has attracted the attention of archangels and deities, all of whom are vying desperately for their attention and in all their wisdom and power couldn’t think of a better method of contact than littering” one person said. Jokingly, in response, I posted a gif saying “Hey, thats me!”, claiming the title of Special and Important Person.

Please excuse our casual dismissal that a thread might have been important. Its not that one couldn’t be contacted via thread, just that not everything in life need be a personal sign from divinity.

No more than 10 minutes later I found myself casually relaxing on my living room couch, and I look down and see a bright blue string sitting on the cushion in front of me. It doesn’t match my clothes, or the couch, or any pillows, or dog toys that I have. Just sitting there staring up at me.

“Well, someone is trying to make a point” I thought to myself. I share this finding with the previous group of discordians. They’re intrigued by the mystery, and one points out that its the same color as yarn she is currently working with. Demands arise that I try an Estes method session with the string to see what comes of it.

My fiancée, upon hearing about the string, reminds me that in a recent session we got a message: “The story is written on a blue cord”. (This is one of the conversations with The Seven, which will be talked about in an upcoming post).

Interesting, that’s easily three separate synchronicities from one piece of string. Fair play deities, you have my attention.

Figuring I’d divine its mysteries later, I straighten out the string and place it safely on a table. Shielded from stray breezes, passing pets, or a brush from pant legs, I put it out of my mind and set about making dinner.

We eat and watch some T.V. The string remains where I placed it on the table. A few short hours go by, and we decide to try some casual Remote Viewing practice. As my fiancée goes to the next room to grab some paper and pencils I lift a glass of wine from the table and notice the string is gone.

“Damn, I must have brushed it aside at some point”. I look around the table, but no sign of it. I search on the table, under the table, in the table cubbies, on the couch, on my body, on the floor, on the dogs and cat, under blankets, under the couch, everywhere within a short distance. Then everywhere that I might have walked since the last time I saw it. No string.

Yesterday I stayed up until the early hours of the morning to guest on the TASTA podcast with Tommie Kelly and Spud Murphy. Afterward I led them in their first Estes session for their Rituals series of videos as well.

Part of the topic for this particular podcast episode was a documentary on Jesus in India. I watched the doc that previous day with my fiancée and we discussed it. One particular thing that stood out was our talk about Jesus being given a mix of vinegar and hyssop on a sponge, and then dying.

I had always heard, during 12 years of Catholic schooling, that it was a form of smelling salts, to keep him awake. She was of the belief that it may have been sanctifying (because of the hyssop, see Psalm 51), or similar to the Jewish custom of hyssop branches being used to scatter the blood of a sacrifice in the temple. Or perhaps, medically, the combination could be used as a method of cleaning a wound.

It was an interesting conversation, and definitely stood out in my mind.

About an hour after the disappearing string we’re a few attempts into our remote viewing practice. A few hits, a few misses, but overall going well. My fiancée is just starting another session with a target that I’ve given her, and I’m doing my best to be quiet as I watch the calming motions of sea turtles accompanied by soft music coming from the T.V.

Glancing down at one of our dogs who has crawled beneath my feet, I notice something in one of the cubbies underneath our table. There is a small bottle down there, among loose cables and a remote control. But around the neck of the bottle, looped twice, is the blue string.

I pick up the bottle, unwind the string, and set it silently back on the table. I put the bottle back in the cubby. My fiancée continues her remote viewing, I grade her drawings, and then mention I found the string.

“Where?” She asks.

“Its weird” I respond. “It was wrapped around this bottle that’s under the table”.

A shocked expression crosses her face. I assume it was because there’s no way that string could have fallen and looped multiple times tightly around the neck of that bottle, but she asks “That bottle right down there?”

“Thats it, yeah.”

“Look at the label.”

I pick up the bottle and turn it around. I hadn’t noticed a label on it when I first picked it up, but now it stared at me in faded letters written with a paint pen.

Hyssop, Salt, Vinegar.

The string is currently sitting in a small box on my altar, along with gifts from birds and a few other important items, where it, presumably, cannot get up to more shenanigans.